Tallies

I could keep them like tallies. Unable to decipher the difference between conquests and lovers scorned. 

Etched in the wall through scratches and burns. Some through passion, some betrayal. Some of nothing at all.

I could keep them like tallies, if only I could keep them.

I could plan their demise. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Occupying space in my mind without paying a cent. Evading your rent like you evade my messages. 

Use, wash, rinse and repeat. My sex is on a spin cycle that rotates but never cleans. Do you want me when I’m dirty or only when I’m wet?

Read More
Masturbation Muse

I am a masturbation muse. The face of fapping. The Edie Sedgwick of erections.

I inspire a different kind of brushstroke. Their artworks are stiff tissues that lay at the bottom of wastebaskets.

They create poetry in my name. Words inscribed in a digital bubble—temporary, just like us. 

They tell me they touch themselves for me. 

I’m supposed to be honored. I’m supposed to be turned on. Tell me what else I’m supposed to be.

Read More
You Call Me Crazy

This is the second time you cross my boundary. A line clearly drawn in the sand is now cement. Despite this, it is you who pulls the victim card. I need to calm down. I need to relax. But this constant fight, this constant shield and defense is just that: a defense. What good can come if I defend my personal boundaries, my thoughts, my feelings, while also defending against your actions, your words. Careful not to step to close, tread too light, or I may drown. If I let it slide what is next to slide? Your dick into my DMs? Your tongue into my mouth? Your hand into my skirt? I’m no longer playing victim. I am on the offensive.

Read More
The Powerless Pleasure

You always remember your first. The Cum Dumpster—or “Cummy", as I affectionally refer to him—is my first pay pig. But he is much, much more than a vessel for fluids or a wallet of cash. While I am well versed in the art of humiliation, the financial aspect is a road not taken. Cummy and I have a special relationship. We never intend it to turn out the way it did. In fact, it’s tumultuous from the start.

Read More
I'm Not Touching Your Penis

This is the move I’ve seen a thousand times. He’s knocking, but not entering. Flirting with the boundary, but not violating it. His penis is dangerously close to my vaginal opening. I am now uncomfortable.

“You are not putting that inside of me.” I stop kissing and look him in the eyes. He climbs down from on top of me and lays beside me, stroking my body. Both of our shirts are still on. He continues to tell me how sexy I am, how much he wants to fuck me. I continue to tell him “I know.”

Read More