Sexscapades - "On To The Next."

My whore years were long and plentiful. I fucked just about everyone and I wanted to. I couldn’t get enough of it. However, it’s important to note that I actually WANTED to be with them. I felt so much intensity and so many overwhelming feelings. I was always attracted to the men I had these relationships with and they were always a positive experience for me.

I would be lying if I said I was as a big a whore as my other friends. I didn’t even come close. I stopped counting a few years ago but my number isn’t even really that high. It’s probably only in the twenties now I think whereas I have some friends in the fucking hundreds. Now that I think about it, I’m not even really a whore; really. I did catch up to some of my friends pretty quickly though seeing as how I was only technically having sex for a year when I hit the double digits.

Regardless of how many different dudes I hooked up with, I know I fucked a lot of times; in general. I’m not and never have been particularly a big fan of the one night stand thing. I did it only a few times if not just once. Additionally, even if I fucked the guy just one time, we always general at least spoke again at the bare minimum. Sometimes they were over me, but I would say that approximately nine times out of ten, I was the one who was out; and fast too. Days, weeks or a few short months was my MO.

I liked a big cock in general and I loved to cum and make the men I was with blow their loads as much as loved to blow their minds but eventually, fucking a dick wasn’t cutting it anymore and I got bored and moved the fuck on to someone new who came along.

Once I broke the seal of sleeping with different guys it didn’t really stop. It actually escalated and all I ever had to talk about with friends was guys. I actually relished in being the crews biggest whore. I enjoyed it. I spoke about my sexscapades very openly and I was always quite entertaining with my stories. My friends seemed to enjoy vicariously living through my experiences and I was happier than a pig in shit. I jumped from guy to guy, experience to experience and juggled numerous guys at the same time. I was so distracted by my reality that I didn’t care about much else.

There was the “Romano” from Rome, “pony”, “pencil penis”, “street ram”, “the Polish man whore” so on and so forth. There were obviously numerous others but at this time, it’s hazy. Those stand out immediately. There was also James. Oh how I fancied James. We met online and he went by the name of “Jimmy” but that’s not what I called him. He was so incredibly intelligent; a Harvard graduate. Conversations between us were on a mental level I had yet to experience and he was on the road a lot as a band manager. His home was in another state about five hours away from mine but we still saw each other on a few occasions. I drove to his home town and slept over then left feeling jaded and freaked out on him for not being attentive enough and also met him in another city five hours another way while he was on tour. I guess thinking back to it now it makes sense as to why he eventually cut me off. I suppose he thought I was some crazy bitch who would drive countless miles to meet him whenever he wanted to see me.

I remember one morning after I fucked him by riding him for five minutes, he told me I was cocky. I think he was likely more intelligent than me but I was way too much of a narcissist to realize it. I kept making him show me his Harvard paraphernalia to prove he was a grad. I didn’t believe him. I thought I was in love with him for a considerable length of time after he’d cut me off. I can’t remember why or how we stopped communicating but I know he was not responsive to me any longer. It made me fucking crazy and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I was convinced I had real feelings for him of love. A few months later I met someone new and I was over him but I never quite forgot about him. Every once in a while he still randomly crossed my mind and I wondered how the hell I could’ve had such intense feelings for a greasy fat ass who was ugly as all hell. I guess that’s when I may have first experienced feelings of being a sapiosexual.

What I didn’t notice then but realize now about my male sexual relationships were that they were never longer than days, weeks or a short number of months. They were never anything “more than friends” to me in my head and I never ever had any intentions of a long-term relationship with them. The lack of commitment or thoughts of long-term were not something I ever purposely intended on or pre-mediated, it just sort of ended up that way. I never planned on anything long-term in my mind because it never popped into my head as something I cared about or wanted. Not only did I not care at the time I was in these pseudo-relationships, I don’t think my brain was able think that that far ahead. I think this occurred possibly because things were generally always naturally so short-lived or maybe because by habit, I never had feelings of emotion or attachment. I either “had” feelings or I did not. If I did, then I would immediately engage in a sexual relationship with the man I had met and once I didn’t or found someone I “loved” more, different or better, I would most literally “move on to the next” without a moments’ hesitation or notice to my male companion.