the life and musings of a kinky slut


I want it. 

I. Want. It.

I’m on three different dating apps swiping right on so many people because I want their time, their dick, and their attention.

I will text previous hookups just for their replies and some possible sexy conversation because I like the attention. Each interaction, each picture or message, is a dopamine hit to my brain washing over my body like a smooth draw from a joint.

I get antsy when I don’t have someone’s attention. Frustrated even. Angry, or depressed, depending on the day. I crave attention. 

Of course, I want it on my schedule with my availability because, you know, I’m selfish. (I’m leaning into the fact that I am not as sweet and as kind as I often portray.) 

I crave what I don’t have. On days when there is nothing to do, no fun to be had with others, on these days especially I yearn for attention. 

The fact that I have not been able to establish a consistent FWB situation is incredibly frustrating. Consistent weekly dick would be enough to fill my attention quota, though I would still be on the apps seeking out yet more attention from others, not because I would need it but because I am greedy.

I already know dating me will be… interesting for some folks. The push and the pull of me wanting you to focus on me, or me wanting you to go the fuck away. 

I am quick to judge, quick to condemn, and fully a snob about so many things. I will not forgive some slights, unless you have bomb dick. Bomb dick will let you get away with so many sins. 

But the one sin, the one that is hardest to forgive, is not giving me full undivided concentrated attention.

I want your gaze, your focus, your energy directed on me. 

And only me. 

Eyes up please.

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