Like my new tits? Exclaimed a text message, accompanied by a digital image of said tits, as I checked the inbox of my Motorola camera phone. Many friends have mocked me because of my 4 year+ allegiance to the camera phone format, but they aren't banning these things from public locker rooms for no reason.
When the hell are you ever going to need a camera on your phone? Who cares if you spot a celebrity, the image is so grainy anyways? Justified objections, to be sure, but the grainy images sent and received by my phone only added a requisite seediness to its pimping pastime.
Anyways, this serendipitous, titty-text message from an ex made its appearance during a friend's graduation party. I quickly excused myself from the party hubbub in order to lock myself inside a bathroom to send an equally titillating response. Let me just say that these cameras' wide angle lenses make it quite simple to produce images which have large amounts of one's body in them even though they were shot at relatively close distances. A few additional seedier picture messages are exchanged before I receive the money shot – one greasy gash rearing to go. I zipped myself up, exited the bathroom, and subsequently left the party.
Through further text messaging, we agreed to meet up at a parking lot near an expressway. She was in town from
Under a starry night, we met in the parking lot and I quickly hopped aboard her Murano. A few pleasantries were exchanged – she recently became an RN, was actually on-call for her hospital, was considering going to med school, had just bought a new condo – I briefly discussed the party I had just left. Then came the obvious awkward silence before I finally told her I could just go (more polite than just whipping my wang out).
No! No! Stay! Stay! She insisted. After all, I hadn't seen her new assets yet. So we drove a few blocks to a dimly lit side street and got done what we came for. Afterwards, she dropped me back by my car and I told her I'd call her and of course I didn't. We were a fairly text book example of two people just slightly hot enough to never really connect much above the belt.
Which got me thinking – I could now use my cell phone to blatantly entice ex-lovers with my erect member without ever having to build up any false pretenses; they'd take the bait or they wouldn't. My camera phone even cut-out the seemingly pathetic and random, I was just thinking of you (subtext let's fuck) phone call that I'd have to resort to just a mere 4 years ago. And hot people would much rather fuck than talk anyways, so my camera phone now paved a silent, yet direct pathway to pent up pussy!
Seven out of ten times, a salacious picture message sent out to my circle of fuck buddies has produced fun, slippery, (sometimes even slimey) results, causing me to think about my phone in quite a different light. My pocket-sized pimp has infused sexuality and technology in a creepy, albeit effective and affordable fashion, that could potentially retard my relationship skills more than I ever thought possible.
