sex addict

One of the major problems in my life is boredom. Growing up, I was one of those kids that had to be watched, because the minute a relative turned their back, I was playing with matches, knives, or anything dangerous. I burned down my grandmother’s house when I was six years old. I shorted out the electricity in my aunt’s house because I took apart my toy remote control car and plugged the wires into an outlet. When I was seven, I went through an uncle’s house and poured water in all of his televisions. I was a bad child. Teachers didn’t know what to do with me, because I barked like a dog during class, then they figured out I had a high IQ, was just bored and I was skipped a couple of grades so that my mind could tire itself.

As an adult, I really don’t feel like I've changed much. I still get bored, always searching for something to do, and being gay, it became sex. I was cute, nice body, phat ass and adequate dick, so sex became an outlet for my boredom. Like a high school slut with low self esteem, I’ve done it all. I’ve done the bathhouses, bookstores, threesomes, orgies, double penetration, toys, and anything a freak can think of, I did it. It became a sport. I once had sex with eleven people in one day, and when I looked at the trashcan, with all the cum filled rubbers (because I think nut in a condom is hot) I still didn’t fell satisfied. I once jacked off ten times in one day. I had sex with this really hot guy, 7 times in one day, that’s 14 nuts together. I tried to get into S&M type of sex, until this prison looking guy slapped me while pulling on my nipple so hard that he made them bleed, that I realized that S&M wasn’t for me.

That is so fucked about being a sex addict, no satisfaction. It’s endless. It’s jacking off and feeling disappointed. It’s having a threesome but not feeling exhausted.

I’m trying to remember times where I had great sex. I remember this one time with this guy when I was twenty-five, we got a hotel, smoke some weed, he massaged my body, catered to my body from my head to my toes and it was great. After we finished fucking, I felt rejuvenating. That’s the opposite of being a sex addict, where sex is trying to empty you not filling yourself.

Now that I’m on this self-imposed hiatus from gay life, I need sex to be about rejuvenation. I like a man to pay attention to my gym obsessed body. I like for a man to tell me how beautiful I am. I like touch, from the back of my neck to the bottom of my feet. I like for a man to fuck me like he means it, like he’s trying to give me his soul. I know being "single and not looking" that that can only happen ever blue moon, that most men just want to dump their nut in you like a trashcan, but sometimes, I know when I go back to the gay life, I will demand attention. I need to be seen, not used, in this used or be used world.