This story first appeared in Playboy Netherlands.

Apparently, there are people who can do it. A long-distance relationship. Let me be clear right away: I’m not one of them. I really do wonder: how do they do this? And I’m not talking about the part where you communicate openly, listen to each other’s voices late into the night, and try to talk to each other every moment of the day via WhatsApp. I’m talking about sex.

My boyfriend does go away for a while every now and then, but it’s never been longer than seven days, and, if I’m being completely honest, after two days I’m already whining that I haven’t been touched in what feels like an eternity. So, how are we going to handle three weeks apart, including the time difference? There’s only one way to do this: we embrace the tools at our disposal. That means ourselves and the digital world. Three weeks, four different kinds of solo sex. Because that’s what long-distance sex really boils down to: having sex with yourself while someone else enjoys it from a (very) long distance.

METHOD 1: Daily nudes

“Whatever you do, never send a selfie of your face.” Yeah, that rule doesn’t apply to me. Is that stupid? Maybe. Maybe I’m too trusting, but isn’t your head what makes the whole selfie? I’m not averse to sending nude photos via WhatsApp, and I’m more than happy to let my boyfriend know that. From now on, every morning is the perfect time for what I call a “daily nude.” A day without a photo is a day not lived.

For some miraculous reason, my house is pretty much filled with mirrors. Don’t ask me why. Apparently I really like looking at myself. Plus, I often spend a good part of the morning naked; modesty isn’t something I was raised with. From the moment I step out of the shower in the morning until I’m finally dressed, that’s the perfect time to take photos of myself in the mirror.

I look at my naked body in front of me; the light in my bedroom is actually always just right. A shadow accentuates the curves of my breasts, while the chill in the room makes my nipples hard. Exactly what I need to take a photo that does more than just spark the imagination. Hmm, thong on or off? I think today we’ll go for a thong that’s half on, half off. The thin strap of my panties cuts just a little into my hip. I throw my leg slightly to the side, my hip to the left, one arm up to take the photo, and I use the other to pull my panties halfway down. “Click, click, click.” I choose the best photo and send it to my man.

That task is done, I think, and I continue getting dressed. Still, the time difference is a problem. He’s at work right now, and although I get a reply not too long after sending my photo saying he has a hard-on, neither of us can do anything about it, and it still feels a bit like closing the barn door after the horse has bolted. The day is still young, and throughout the day, several messages come in. “I’m craving you” and “I can’t wait to touch you” and “my dick wants to be inside you.” I don’t blush easily, and yet I feel a little shy. Who says romance is dead? The line “my dick wants to be inside you” is the 2025 equivalent of the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. They must have been horny, too.

Still, I feel a twinge of jealousy; a well-written intro can make up for so much when it comes to sexting. Although the messages do make me want to have sex, the grind of everyday life gets the better of me. In bed at night, I reread our messages. “Are you still awake?” I text him. “I want you…” My boyfriend is asleep, and I’m alone. Lonely and horny. But before I can even touch myself, I fall asleep.

In other words: daily nudes are fun for the compliments. Sexting can work well, provided you’re in the same time zone, but with this eight-hour time difference, I’d still choose a different form of long-distance sex. 

Rating: 2 out of 5.

METHOD 2: Gasping into the phone

Nothing makes my heart—or my boyfriend’s cock—beat faster than phone sex. Or so I tell myself.

But if I’m being completely honest, I find it absolutely terrifying. I’m not exactly shy, but talking at length on the phone about where and how I touch myself, only to climax: just carry me away. But I’m Hannah Swart and I just do whatever I feel like. So let’s go for it. After all, it’s evening, I’m lying ready in my bed, and my boyfriend is actually awake this time.

“Should we talk on the phone for a bit?” I text him. My phone rings immediately.

“Hi,” I hear him say. His voice cracks a little, tired yet clear.

“Hi,” I say back.

“Are you tired?” A sigh, because I miss him, because I want him, because I’d already decided where this phone call was going to lead long before it happened.

“Yeah, a little.” His voice sounds cheerier. “Are you already in bed?”

His voice sounds hoarse, a hint of longing seeping through the sounds as I tell him I’m touching my breasts with my fingers. I feel my cheeks getting warm and I suddenly have to giggle a little.

“What’s up?” he asks, amused.

“Nothing.” I give a soft laugh. “It’s making me a little shy.”

He smiles, and as if that’s all I need to break the ice, he starts telling me where he wants to touch me and how. With his fingers along my nipples, the curves of my breasts, over my stomach, slowly moving downward. He wants to spread my legs and then descend with his mouth. Slowly and with total devotion, tasting me on his tongue. Kissing me and entering me. He’s hard, so hard, and he wants to feel me, taste me, smell me, breathe me in.

I want to feel him, taste him, smell him, and no one else! I scream that last part as I let my body reach a shuddering climax. It ends with me panting into the phone. Exhausted and satisfied.

Rating: 3 out of 5.

METHOD 3: Prefab porn

We’ve arrived at my favorite part. Prefab porn, or in other words: nude photos are too boring, sex videos of yourself are hot. I can’t describe it any simpler than that. Do I do this often? No, I have to admit I’m not really into the adult content niche. But given the time difference and the lack of overlapping time, we have to get creative.

What could be better than your own girlfriend pretending she’s an OnlyFans superstar and you’re her only fan? Exactly: nothing at all. Provided it’s done right.

Remember when I said I have a lot of mirrors in the house? That comes in handy more than once, especially now. I sit down on the bed and grab my Satisfyer from the closet. A relic from my brief single life. And a very welcome one, I can tell you. Personally renamed by my boyfriend as “Men’s Worst Enemy.”

I hold my phone in one hand and my pulsating best friend in the other. In all honesty, I think: what am I doing? Why am I doing this? And why do I have so many mirrors in the bedroom?

And yet: all in the name of journalism. Including touching myself and filming it. I sit on the edge of my bed, legs spread wide, and watch myself in the mirror. As soon as my toy turns on, my body seems to already sense what’s coming. The tension builds quickly between my legs.

I secretly find it incredibly hot—the idea that my boyfriend will see this later, but also seeing myself sitting like this and that pulsing sensation. It’s not for nothing that it’s called “Man’s Worst Enemy,” I think, as the building sensation quickly takes over. I move back and forth over my most sensitive spot while filming myself in the mirror. My legs still wide apart, my posture almost the same. I want him to see this, I want him to see how I lose myself in the pleasure.

And just as I think that, I fall backward onto the bed and reach my climax. My first thought: gosh, I’m so dirty. Horny and filthy. A combination of pleasure and mild wonder at myself as I discover my sexual preference. Namely: watching myself come in the mirror while filming. Freud would have a thing or two to say about this—luckily, he doesn’t read Playboy.

Anyway, time to send this masterpiece to my boyfriend. Something I apparently find pretty exciting. I send the video and fling my phone across to the other side of the bed. Terrifying. It doesn’t take long before the messages start pouring in.

Mission accomplished. The experience was one for the books, but I missed the interaction. So this one just barely misses the mark.

Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

METHOD 4: Webcam babe 

Sometimes I think I was made for the camera. In this case, I was made for FaceTime sex, which is basically old-school webcam sex. The only thing missing is a chat room.

My boyfriend calls; it’s evening for him and afternoon for me. So the neighbors don’t get in on the fun, I take my phone into the bedroom. I set it on the windowsill. The golden tip: make sure you have good lighting. My phone’s small screen shows me: on the bed, on my knees. My boyfriend smiles at me; he’s also in bed, but on the other side of the world.

“Touch yourself,” he says with a grin on his face.

I start touching myself, making sure he can see it clearly. Like a true webcam babe, I gaze seductively into the camera. I go about it unabashedly, as if I do this every day. My hands move from my neck, to my breasts, to my stomach, and between my legs. I start caressing myself. I can see that my viewer is watching with lust as I touch my body.

There’s no shame, just desire, horniness, and lust. And since I can only touch myself, that’s what I do. On the other side of the world, I hear moans and heavy breathing as I watch him doing his best to enjoy his own touch.

“I want to feel you,” I moan as I move back and forth between my legs at a steady pace. The sensation of my fingers between my legs, his rapid breathing and moans, seeing myself on the screen and watching him: it’s porn deluxe, and live at that. The tension builds, as does the sensation between my legs: the throbbing, the wetness, the tingling sensation reaches a climax.

I moan his name and let myself sink onto the bed with a smile. Well, that went faster than I thought. It wasn’t a very extensive session—it couldn’t have been. Watching each other while touching myself is apparently so hot for me that I race toward a moment of ecstasy.

Rating: 5 out of 5.

CONCLUSION

Webcam sex, sexting, nude photos, homemade solo porn: in the end, you’re always having sex with yourself. Not seeing or touching each other isn’t fun, but distance also creates tension, butterflies in your stomach when you meet again, and endless longing. So in that regard, it doesn’t hurt to do it once in a while.

As for the different preferences: my strong preference is for webcam sex. Sexting and daily nudes are fun as a side thing, but not particularly exciting for me. Phone sex was fun to do—and definitely a good option if you don’t feel like going to all sorts of attractive lengths. Filming myself while performing a sexual act was surprisingly fun and exciting, and yet seeing each other on screen is the winner.

Nothing ultimately beats real touch, but given the distance, the next best thing wins out: no touch, but video and audio. This webcam babe has found her long-distance sex niche.