Slut life

Does more sex make me more happy?

It’s a foolish want for a girl like me.  I know that what I truly look for is a safe place to rest my head, as well as give up my body to the throes of my other desires.  At the end of the day though- after the sweat and the fuck, my flesh molds back into the body of a woman who is missing the essential pieces.  The men return to their lives, their wives and girlfriends and I lay my head on my pillow and wonder…

Who have I become?

You can add all the men you want to your harem, I have been told, but it won’t make you happy.  No- maybe not- however we take what is offered.  Greedily and we claim not to want more.  Of course not.

But I do.  But not from these men, not from the men who’s bodies touch mine and with whose flesh I share my own.  They mean something, but nothing.  They are mere flashes of light in a world that looks otherwise dark.  I find flesh in the dark, but comfort in the light.  In the knowing… these fake lives- these make believe relationships.  Men that would otherwise completely disappear were it not for their own ego, distress, and loneliness.  We dance around each other.  Wishing things were different.  Wishing we had what others have- and strangely waiting for the ones who disappoint us, to become someone different.  Waiting until I become someone different.

Who are you today, girl?  Are you enough yet?
So we fake it.  I pretend.  I collect.

And at the end of the day… I feel no more comfort that when I began.

Who have I become?

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