November week three

 It was an interesting week indeed...

I started it off by getting black out drunk and falling in "love" with a man who I had just met. I hated him at first eye contact, and I still do. Upon our first meeting I slapped him for some unknown reason, and I believed it awakened something deep and primitive inside him which sparked him to immediately obsess over me. And me being the unloved whore I am I welcomed the attention like the neglected child I once was. He showed me that he believes I deserve so much more than how I'm treated by those who have come into my life in the past... but he couldn't have been more wrong. For the few days he was here he poured all of his love and affections onto me like I was a shelter puppy and although I enjoyed it at the beginning, by the final day I was sick of these antics. I was sick of pretending to be someone I wasn't, someone capable of caring and loving for someone else like I'm a normal girl. But I'm not and although I shed a few tears for him after he left, I'm afraid that they were just crocodile tears to make me feel like I was capable of some compassion. But I'm not and all we did was act like virgins for a few days, cuddling and kissing, so it didn't leave that much of an impression on me. However, I must admit that I felt somewhat abandoned and betrayed when he left me to go back to his home country. Relationships between boys like him and girls like me always end up with the poor, sweet, innocent boy to go insane and do horrible things to me and drive me crazier than I already am. Thus, in my sadness I made some decisions that I feel reflect well on my character.

 The day after he left, I had already returned to normal and a wonderous opportunity was presented to me. A man at work who I've been somewhat pining over invited me for some after work drinks, to which I readily accepted. It was our first time going out just us two together and I somewhat knew what was coming (I didn't wear underwear to meet him, but I didn't bring my vibrator either). There had been some light flirting in the past, especially during the summer when a group of us from work would hang out and go to the beach together. I remember one time it got especially heated while we were swimming together, but it didn't lead anywhere. Mainly because I assumed he always saw himself as some sort of big brother figure to me, and because he has a girlfriend. Because of the latter I was still unsure of his intentions even though he invited me out for a drink just us two. He was already drunk before our shifts finished and I was quite excited to see where this was headed. The way he asked me out was quite ballsy too, he casually announced it to a group of our coworkers while we were in the smoke room. It did make me quite aroused for dominance to be asserted like that, taking me out for drinks and assuming I wouldn't reject him instantly. 

    We went out, and with it being the world cup there was a football match on, so we were going to go to a pub to watch it after we finished chugging a few beers. When we got there, I was pretty tipsy, and he was too, and we decided to go to his house instead to watch it on his laptop. He suggested going to his at first, but I initially declined because I had spent the past week pretending to be a woman of high worth, but of course, this I am not. I was still unusually slow about it once we got back to his, pretending to watch the football to ignore his countless advances to initiate things. I eventually caved, and halfway through our first make out, his girlfriend texted him which. admittedly, turned me on even more. What followed was rough dirty unprotected sex. He was choking me and slapping me to his heart's content, and we didn't discuss any of it beforehand, so it was in a rough primitive way, not a millennials wet consensual dream. The rough primitive way is my favourite way, and I've never seen it come so naturally to a man before. He is truly a pervert. We did butt stuff, no lube. The true pinnacle of it all was the tension that we've had between us, for months now, finally coming to a full body friction. It was a beautiful disgusting display of my truest nature, the desire to be whored out by as many men as possible. When I woke up with bruising on my neck from the choking, I admired it for hours in the mirror and camera as I thought it looked really beautiful on me, and the bruising on my ass cheeks looked even more beautiful to me. They both invoked a sort of sense of pride in me. The really interesting thing about all of this is not my lack of self-respect, but rather my absence of guilt. He has a girlfriend and I had just spent the last few days being in some sort of mock marriage, but I don't feel guilty about having sex with him. I know his girlfriend too; she looked after me a few times while I was drunk, she's a lovely girl but bad things happen to good people unfortunately. The best things happen to the worst people so keep on being evil xx

November Week One

 I started this month off with rediscovering my sexuality through an unusual methodology: sex with a much older man. I met him via an online forum for BDSM lovers, I had been going through quite the dry spell and seeing a large phallus sent me insane. I wanted him almost instantly. And to my surprise I actually followed through, after a very short amount of time. I barely knew him yet in less than an hour I was waiting outside his house in my sluttiest outfit with butterflies in my stomach. I could lie and say that the butterflies were me being nervous to meet him for the first time, but the only thought on my mind was the desire to get fucked. I was so desperate to be fucked that I didn’t care about my chances of being murdered by this stranger afterwards. The need for sex managed to overpower any sense or instinct of danger I had in my body. I don’t regret it either, it was the perfect experience. We went to his penthouse, had minimal interaction with each other and had a quick round of intense rough sex before he had to leave to go to work. This experience came after months of futile attempts to seduce younger men. It felt like a blessing, he had opened the doors to me feeling alive again.  

     I forgot how much I loved that feeling, not the orgasm, but the aftermath. The feeling of euphoria of being my own person, of being allowed to enjoy these pleasures with no strings attached. Since I started writing this, I’ve fucked him three more times, and each time has been better than the next. The last time we had sex I orgasmed so hard that I lost half off my hearing afterwards, and here's the part where you may be thinking, “wouldn’t you feel shame afterwards”. Shame that I was able to orgasm so hard from a man with sallow eyebags... but excellent stamina? With slightly sagging skin on his ribs... but a horsecock? I ponder about it a bit about why I don’t feel guilty about having sex with him, but the truth is I love the taboo aspect of it. After the second time we had sex, I decided to meet up with a man a bit closer to my age, of the age of 24. We went for a stroll along the promenade and then went down to the beach to drink a beer. About half an hour later I saw the older man, with an older woman by his side. They were smiling and laughing and pointing at the stars together, like a cute couple. He saw me while he was walking with her towards the water, while I was with the other man, we made eye contact for a brief moment before I looked away into the eyes of a man fifteen years his junior.  

In the following moments I started to think about what we're doing together; how wrong it would be if the people with us knew what we were thinking of when we made eye contact. A horrible dirty little secret, but one so deathly pleasurable. It's almost impossible for me in this current moment to feel shame while thinking of him, and I wonder if that will change in the future? The next day after the sighting I had sex with the younger man, but it just wasn't the same, it wasn't unsatisfactory, but it was just completely vanilla and I found it quite dull, and it left me wanting the older man even more. So, I did what any pathetic whore does and texted oldie while I was still at the other man's house, but unfortunately, he was busy. I was desperate for sex from him, I was cock crazy at this point, so I went over as soon as possible the next morning. It was another successful experience and so I went two days after. That was on Friday and currently it is Monday so unfortunately, it's been a while since I last got fucked and I have a feeling November week two may be a bit unsuccessful since I'm going to be a bit busy.

Foreword

 I will start off this writing with a warning: this will not be an erotic love lust book. It is one of a reflection of my human nature and my experiences. The idea to document my experiences came while listening to “Party Time” by the Nothern Boys. One of the lyrics in the chorus is, “do you want to make love to sad old man” to which the obvious answer to the rhetorical question in most people's mind would be no. Yet in mine no answer appeared, but instead it reminded me of my current sexual arrangement. For historical accuracy I will be writing about my experiences in random order, and will be writing it as soon as possible to the time it actually happened. Then while writing about it I'll be reflecting about past experiences in comparison to them. There are lots of people who struggle with sex addiction, including myself, but most don’t realize the issue until later in life when they’re unable to stay in relationships once they run dry. This will be a current up to date journalling of my self-destructive teenage nympho sex yearning days.