Sexting, Teens and Us

Sexting, Teens and Us

According to a study published in the Journal of Pediatrics, more than 25% of teens who engage in sexting – dirty talk – dirty pics – are more likely to become sexually active a year later.

Well, maybe that’s true with teens, but I think the exact opposite is happening with us gay guys. And I don’t just mean guys who’ve hung up their jock-straps because of Father Time, or feel they don’t have much to offer physically in such a looks-conscious sub-culture. No, more and more young virile hotties are doing it too. Replacing real sex for virtual sex. Like I’ve said countless times before, with the web and phone apps making it oh-so-easy to get hard and get off on some guy in cyberspace, there’s less and less motivation to go after it for real. After all, why waste the mouthwash?

Is that such a bad thing you ask? No, if you live in the boonies and distance or redneck mentality make hooking-up complicated. But sexting is a bad thing if you live in gay-saturated urban areas like Chicago or New York or Fort Lauderdale and you CHOOSE to sex chat instead of press the flesh.

Take a guy I’ll call Hal who lives literally less than a mile from my house. He hit me up on one of the hook-up sites, the attraction was mutual, and we started chatting which I hoped would lead to “when and where.” But instead he came up with excuses (like a partner who sounds like he’s got him on a leash, a common problem in many places especially here in Lauderdale where a lot of couples have moved from wherever for the sun). So, instead we drifted into sexting and hard cock pics and lustful patter till we shot our loads.

I left the door open for us to meet in the flesh and told him I have a pretty flexible schedule (he admitted he sometimes worked from home) but I wonder if I’ll ever hear from Hal again. Now that we have one another’s hard cock pics in our message memories.

Then there are those guys who keep returning to my profile again and again who when I ask if they wanna connect rarely respond at all. Do you think it’s because they like the color of the speedos I’m wearing?

Or the guys on the other side of the world who hit me up even on my Facebook page and talk like we were already sweaty lovers though 2,457 miles separate us. Like Andre from Paris: “I want you so bad, I want you to fuck me all night!” To which I responded: “Unless you got a private jet, I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

Have we become a community of voyeurs and not doers? Maybe because the fantasy is better than the reality?

As much as I like the real deal, I’m even beginning to wonder.

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