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  • Olive Persimmon

Olive Performs at the Sexting AF



Olive Persimmon performs at the Sexting AF.

I Talk Dirty:

I talk dirty. In bed and online and if you know me, it’s no surprise.

Because you know, that guy, Jason Mraz, and I…have a lot in common. You know, it’s all about the word play. La la La la la

Words are my life.

So with words I love to play, by night and by day.

By day, I write and I speak

By night, I’ll make your knees go weak.

I’ve been using words to get off for a long time, way before sexting, it started online.

Late at night, I’m all alone. 15 years old, waiting for the dial-up tone. Rents asleep, not a peep, in too deep. My mom would weep if she knew what I was about to do.

Login to the chatroom & type a well-known phrase:

“A/S/L, Wanna Cyber?”

A barrage of private IM’s light up my screen.

Ewwwweeee! Just for me?!

I click on my favorite, HotRomantiGuy376.

My first REAL relationship.

We make love…on the internet…every night.

It’s honest and vulnerable.

Except he thinks I’m 5’6, thin, and blonde. So basically everything I’m not.

BUT ONLINE, I’ve got a Shot with this perfect guy, He’s a model…and a soccer player. 6-pack galore, white teeth and more. Sure, I’ll be your cyber…lady friend.

“What are you wearing?” Hot Romanti Asks.

“A Red Thong,” Same thing as the last four nights.

I’m really wearing granny panties because my mom still buys my underwear.

“So Sexy,” he types back. And then the real fun begins.

“I’ll touch you here. I’ll stroke you there. I’m licking you everywhere.”

And it’s all pretty vague because I’m 15 and don’t really know what I’m doing. But it doesn’t matter because the way we play always ends the same way:

Lowercase O Lowercase O Lowercase O Lowercase O Lowercase O Lowercase O Lowercase O Uppercase O Uppercase O Uppercase O Uppercase O Uppercase O Uppercase O Uppercase O Uppercase O Uppercase O

Ah, sigh.

Unfortunately, Hot Romanti and I didn’t last because my dad found out and threw a fit and lit the fire that ended our romance .. insisting that he was some old guy named Chuck, so that was the end of our nightly …chat.

Fast forward to 18. I’m in love with a real man. In the real world. Unfortunately we met in Brazil, where he really lives. And so did I, Until I came home and suddenly I was back, romancing with words on the internet. But this time around it was less O’s and more I love you’s and saudades. Which is the Portuguese word for “I’m missing you terribly.” Still no smartphones so I’d prop up my digital camera and take photos of my vagina that were wayyyyyy too close.

Upload to computer. Wait. Transfer file. Wait. Upload to email. Wait. Send.

Wait, for his response. Occasionally sexy stuff but mostly love letters sent to peachykeen620@hotmail.com from DGM88@earthlink.net

But we were 18 and he was there and I was here so we knew, ultimately, that it wasn’t going anywhere.

Or he knew. I was too delusional and sad to know much of anything. So I spent the next 2 years crying. Still heartbroken in real life. I invented a 2nd a life, where I could be horny but my avatar didn’t have to deal with real emotions. F4 to thrust. F6 to moan. F4 F6 F4 F6 F4 F6 F4 F6 F4 F6 F9 to cum. But my 2nd life got pretty boring pretty fast because truthfully it’s no fun to blast your load online when you’re lonely in real life.

Enter Dylan stage left.

I saw him at the bar late one night and he looked exactly like that guy from twilight. You know, Edward Cullen. But not the Robert Pattinson version, the version I had imagined in my own mind while masturbating in the bathtub. He was flawless.

We bonded over a love of that song, total eclipse of the heart and he took my number. Little old me.

Later that night he started sexting, Alright. Here we go. Should have been a red flag though but I was horny and lonely and he was so damn fine. Lips like sparkling wine. Total Dime. Baby be mine. At least for a night.

And my God, did he know how to sext. Graphic. Yet Respectful. Sexy. Yet Respectful. Words. He knew how to use words…and photos…and words…and my god he had the biggest, vocabulary, I had ever seen displayed during a sexting conversation. No excessive “mmm, that sounds nice.” Followed by a, “baby, that’s nice” followed by a “Yaaaa, so nice.” Nice is how you describe Mother Theresa, or your mom, not the dirty things I wanna do to your testicles or how you’re gonna taste my breast…icles. And yes, I can admit it, wholeheartedly, that last line was not my besticle.

We tried to date but it wasn't quite right, so we made our relationship the kind that only works at night. And thus began a long-term, 5 year friend with benefits situation.

I’ll be honest, I’m shocked that it worked so well, usually these situations end with some hellish story. But not us. The boundaries were clear, the chemistry was great, never again did we try to date though once when I was lonely and sad I sent him a text, saying just that and he responded empathically with a picture of his dick. Which was a pretty good reminder that your Friend with benefits isn’t your boyfriend for a reason.

He’d date someone else and we’d end amicably. They’d break up and he’d cum back. I’d date someone, We’d break up, then I’d come back. For five years, on and off, But we’d always cum back, though he never came on my back but who knows, I'd try it. I'm more open-minded these days.

Most recently we discovered snapchat, where our love of words wasn't just that, it was coupled with pics. And vids. And silly filters that make you look fucking great and cover your chapped lips and acne scars. Nothing wrong with that and it’s our flaws that make us beautiful and blah blah sometimes you come home and you look like a shit and a filter quickly fixes it.

Anyway, Back to Edward Cullen and I. You free I’d ask. I’m thinking about all the sexy things I want to do to you right now.

Hard as a rock he’d reply. Show me I’d say.

And then the videos would come, and the pics too. And there was something so fun about multimedia explorations and I would send stuff too but not with my face. Because that's the golden rule, if you're gonna fool around via text, NEVER INCLUDE YOUR FACE."

Repeat after me, NEVER YOUR FACE!

Because if there's only one thing you should get from this speech, NEVER YOUR FACE.

So, ya. I talk dirty. In bed and online so if you know me, you know it's no surprise. Because you know, that guy, Jason Mraz and I, have a lot in common.

It's all about word play.

Thank you.

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