Tag: cybersex


My internet’s been down for the last few days, leaving me disconnected and irritated but also, kind of  liberated. I’ve spoken to my children and to friends, walked the dogs, read a few books and hey, it hasn’t been all bad.

I’ve had a break from social media, haven’t played Pokemon Go, I’ve ignored my blog and all your blogs, and have actually been super responsible.

I kept my last little bit of data in case of a crisis – like a madman trying to murder me, in case I needed an ambulance, or for something really hectic, like calling Mister Delivery to bring me dinner.

It’s been good. Easy.

Until he messaged me.

Violet, I miss you.

And you know, sorry about the ambulance or Mister Delivery.

I just had to use my hotspot.

Because goddammit, Cybersex is so much fun and so addictive and it makes you feel so good, even if for those brief five minutes.




(Three heys, waste of data, I know)

Take off your clothes. Pretend I’m there.  With you. Stroking you.  My hand between your legs.  Rubbing your clit, like that, do it, pinch your nipples, yes, oh god, stand in front of the mirror, there, bend over,  i’m going in you, deep, hard, god like that, naked, send me a photograph, jesus you look amazing, bend over, look in the mirror, I’m in you, fuck yes, yes, my cock,  feel it, hard, thick, my cock, your cunt, dammit, jesus I can see, feel how wet, oh god, god, I’m, I want to come, yes, oh god, jesus, now, wait, yes, yes..

And that was it. A whole lot of spelling errors.

And all  my data. Gone.

But at least I used it responsibly.

And had fun.

But now I’m starving, the fridge is empty and I can’t call Mr Delivery.

Oh well.

I’ll just have to take off my clothes.

On my own.


And pray I don’t need an ambulance.



Skype sex

I didn’t mean to have skype sex. I was lazing on my bed, mostly naked, when the call came through.

I answered, a light breeze blowing through the bedroom curtains.

Hey, I said. It’s just too hot to put on clothes. We’re having a heatwave, 35 degrees. It’s impossible to cool down.

I tried to angle the camera so it wasn’t looking straight between my legs.

I’m not very good at camera angles.

And I do have very nice legs.

You look good Violet, he said.

And he smiled. This guy smiles and I lose it completely.

Put your hand between your legs, he said.

That was it. No prelude, no romance, no ‘go and get a drink and let’s talk dirty a little.’ Just an instruction.

Maybe I had heatstroke, maybe I was sunbaked. Maybe I was just really horny.

But I listened.

Start slowly, he told me. And then he guided me, step by step, by very sexy do this, do that, slower, harder, move your legs, lift your legs, get your toy, turn over, this way, that way, show me, open your legs a little, pinch a nipple…

Dear sweet goddesses!

Me, on camera, naked, doing all this stuff.

And I can tell you this.

It was fantastic.

And he didn’t even take off his clothes.

I’m stiff today. Really stiff.  It feels like I’ve done a full on yoga workout. But it was much more pleasurable.

I say let the heatwave continue.  I’m on my bed again.  Trying to cool down.

Waiting to hear that skype ring.

The problem with load shedding

Last night I had my phone stolen. I’d had a great evening watching the rugby, waving my flag and feeling fabulously patriotic.

Going home on public transport made me feel passionately South African, and it was only when I sat down on the bus that I realised I’d been pick-pocketed.

My proudly South African moment ended there.

And the night ended with a phone call to my Cellular Service (You are number 3005 in the queue, your call is important to us), another phone call to my Insurance Company (you are oddly enough also number 3005 in the queue, please don’t hang up), and today rushing around to buy a new phone and get a new Sim card.

Of course there’s been load shedding all around the country so my Cellular Service which is always offline, has been even more offline than ever.

So, dodging potholes, I drove to my cellular provider in The Rosebank Mall.

The system was down so they directed me to their store next door to Clicks who were also offline and sent me to Killarney but they were in the midst of a rolling black out and so I came home to do a bit of work and have a drink.

And then the power went out at home so I decided to brave it and went to Campus Square where my provider was under renovation so I had a bacon sandwich at Woolies where the kind man told me there was a new store a bit further out.

I went there and midway through the sim swap the power also crashed BOOM BANG KAPOW and not being able to breathe, I gave up.

So I didn’t get a new phone. And my power at home had still not been restored.

Which meant I had loads of time to sit around and not text anyone, not call my children, not cyber sex, and in fact, do nothing at all but reminisce. And write a story. By hand.

About all my other phones that have been stolen, lost or sadly forgotten.

The Nokia that went through the washing machine. That was a huge trauma. It may have been traumatic for the phone too, but I didn’t have much fun watching it go round and round with soapy bubbles and stained underwear.

The Samsung that I threw into the river when I meant to throw a stick for the dog. The one that the dog refused to fetch, because he cleverly knows the difference between a stick and a phone.

Phones that have been dropped in the loo, splashed free spiritedly into swimming pools, been abandoned in bars, or just mysteriously, disappeared out of bags, or even with bags.

While sitting in the dark, writing this story by candlelight, I had a moment. I stopped thinking about phones. I started thinking it was all quite nice actually. It felt kinda warm, cosy and old-fashioned.

Maybe, I didn’t need to get a new phone. Maybe I could live without electricity. Maybe these were all signs about a life change.

Time to sell my house, relocate and find a small town. One that has no electricity, no phones and no potholes. One where I’ll have solar power and grow my own veggies. Maybe I’ll even meet a man there, live side by side with gas lamps and home grown tomatoes…

Oh hang on. IT’S BACK ON. I HAVE LIGHT. Be right back, rushing off to Rosebank. Thanks Eskom, I love you.