Salome Wilde is the author of dozens of published erotic stories of diverse genres and orientations. She and Talon Rihai have co-authored a juicy handful of published and forthcoming stories and a gay romance novella. They are currently co-editing Desire Behind Bars: Lesbian Prison Erotica for Bella Books. You can find them and much more at www.salandtalerotica.com.
Sal: *groan* Sorry. Was folding laundry and lost track of time.
Tal: LOL s’ok. I’m having another bagel. Cuz I can.
Sal: *wags tail*
Tal: Oooh, tail.
Tal: Karo takes hold of Riku’s thick fawn tail by the base. The tall, dark wolfdemon spanks his pretty bitch’s ass and reaches around to tug his hardening cock. “Miss me?”
Sal: Riku yelps, hikes his ass higher. “Yes, fuck yes.”
I imagine two responses from reading the above YIM exchange between two grown women: “OMG Yes!” or “WTF No!” If you’re a “No” reader, you might ask, “Why the hell are two grown women using instant messaging to pretend they’re male half-animal demons having sex?” If you’re a “yes” reader, you might not be able to answer such a question, but you don’t really need to. In order to explain this kind of long-distance, writerly form of semi-masturbatory sex, I have to assume the latter, and take you on a hot little ride.
My remarkable and protracted dalliance with my co-author and loverboi Talon began when I read her fan fiction. I fell in love with her raunchy-beautiful writing. She not only pushed boundaries, she remade them, as hurt/comfort blended with happily-ever-after in ways I had not explored in my own fiction but fantasized about (and masturbated over) often.
One vital fact about an online woman-on-woman sexlife that I learned quickly is that you can’t just verbally pounce on someone and expect them not to think you’re a troll or a stalker. If I had a dime for every time some guy thought he could turn me on by showing himself jerking off on his webcam? Well, I’d have a shit-ton of dimes. Maybe that’s why erotic fan fiction writing is so female-centered. The game is often more about intimacy and exploration than jerking off. Though it’s definitely about jerking off, too. At least the way I do it.
With Talon, I had to be patient. I wasn’t subtle because, frankly, I don’t do subtle. I commented in the review box on a few of her stories and chatted with her as much as such spaces allow. Mostly, I fear I did what is called “fangirling” in the trade, gushing over someone’s writing and hope they notice you. Tal noticed me—I was hard to ignore—but she was cautious, a bit baffled. She couldn’t figure out exactly what I wanted. I was pushy but respectful; she was superficially friendly but suspicious. And just posting a reply to her blog posts would get me so hot I’d soak my panties.
In time, I won her over with my persistence…and my words. There is something incredibly powerful about that, something very different from meeting someone in a club or sifting through images and descriptions in personal ads. The seduction had nothing to do with “ASL.” I loved Talon’s words and she came to love mine. By the time we actually exchanged personal photos, there was already a mutual attraction that transcended their relevance.
The flame burned even hotter after a few months of chatting and flirting in emails, when I got up the nerve to ask her to write with me. Staying in familiar territory, we began to write fan fiction together, adapting characters, twisting scenarios, and dumping in heaps of kink and genderfuck. Though we learned that we live over 500 miles apart, and there is indirectness in writing someone else’s characters, with Talon the play—even the waiting for the next section to arrive by email—was every bit as hot as in-person action.
My mind expanded as we wrote, I grew to bask in the emotional complexity in the combination of putting words together to turn someone else on without thought of sharing it with anyone else, much less of publishing it. Soon, Talon and I began to create original characters to titillate and delight one another, bringing waves of adrenalin rushes and the exquisite pleasure-pain of anticipation. And as the dance grew more intimate, the recognition of shared desires was not put off the tiniest bit by how far apart we lived or how different our lives and experiences were beyond the screen. (Suffice it to say, I’m a workaholic, we’re both bi and married with children, and we managed to find men who respect our naughty writing proclivities.)
Together, Talon (a.k.a. Mistress, Papa, Whore, Demon, loverboi, and naughty little grrrl) and I have dirty danced in words through ripe fields of gender and sexual orientation, through raging oceans of races and cultures, and through a dazzling array of historical eras. From email to text, monkey-tailed aliens to wet nurses, we spent several years simply dropping each other a prompt, and away we’d go. There is challenge—inviting one another to step up to a new scenario or rethink a character from the ground up—but the competition is friendly and the pleasure always mutual. Of course, as in the lived experience of sex, not every position works. But after an amazing eight years together, we’re beautifully in sync and more lustily creative all the time—even when “real life” intervenes.
The moral of this story? Easy: there are more ways to fuck than you can possibly imagine, until you’re wise and lucky enough to be doing it. You just have to keep your mind open and your wi-fi connected.
© 2014, Salome Wilde