Beast of a Burden

Some of this content may be triggering and/or explicit. 

Hypersexuality is a beast of a burden. For the past year, I’ve been doing well in controlling my hypersexuality by not having sex by seeking self-pleasure, fantasies, and copious amount of porn instead. Oh, yeah! And Ben & Jerry’s too! Well, that changed a couple of days ago. I finally saw Fire after an entire year. I was able to turn him a way a couple of times but the craving was still there. A sista was backed up and needed to unclog her drain!

After days of texting back and forth, I decided to see him. I greeted him at the door in a satin robe and white laces panties that he requested. He kissed on my neck and I undressed before him. Then I dropped to my knees and took him in my mouth. The sex was just as raw and intense as I remembered. About halfway through the session, something in me switched. I became maniac. I assumed it was ecstasy initially but now I know that it wasn’t. He began to tell me during sex that when he first saw he had to go to the bathroom and jack off because my big breasts were such a turn on. Ordinarily I wouldn’t engage such a statement but I wanted to know more. “Tell me more,” I said as I thrust him deeper inside of me.

“Those big titties turned me on so much I wanted to take you behind the building and rape the hell out of you!”

Instead of the side eye or an “Oh no you didn’t just say that!” I responded “Oh yeah!!! Rape me!!!”

“Next time I’ll bring a fake knife and pretend to rape you.”

I began to laugh manically.

Who gets turned on or laugh about being raped? I was a rape victim for Pete’s sake!

Afterwards he showed me pics of well endowed black women on his phone and I had no qualms looking at them. Before he left he said that he wanted us to sexually exclusive. He claims I’m the only woman he’s been with sexually since we’ve met but I don’t believe it. I told him that I wouldn’t sleep with anyone else. I don’t know why I agreed to the arrangement. It’s not like he’s my boyfriend or buys my lavish gifts! We haven’t even been on an official date! I didn’t hold up my end on the “bargain” though. The beast took over. I wanted more. My pussy was sore and I still wanted more. I felt like a bottomless pit.

Several hours later I sent a nude pic to Soothed. He told me that I was beautiful and that he missed me. Those words rushed through my veins and felt like glitter. I felt so sparkly on the inside.

“What do you miss about me?” I said in an attempt to fish for more compliments.

“I miss your comfortable presence. I miss your hugs and your laugh. I miss how easy it is to hang out with you. I miss how silly you get with wine. I miss your boobs and your orgasms and your warm body under my fingers.”

His response sound like it came from a chick flick. The only thing missing was an epic kiss in the pouring rain. More glitter rushed into my veins. I needed to release all this DAMN glitter! He asked if he could come over and cuddle. Cuddle is the equivalent of Netflix and Chill in my opinion. We cuddled for about ten minutes before he began massaging me. He traced his fingers all over my body. His touch felt like fire and I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Taste me. Please taste me,” I said desperately as I lowered his head. And for a few hours we caressed and tasted each other. When it was all over I could feel the glitter dancing on my clitoris. I still wanted more!

He spent the night and we got the chance to actually cuddle. I felt so safe in his arms. The next day as he embraced me I said, “You comfort me a lot. Maybe it’s the hugs.”

He looked me deep in my eyes and said “You mean a lot to me.”

Last night I rolled over in bed hoping to feel him there. I’m afraid that might happen again tonight…

169 Days

It’s been 169 days since I had sex y’all. 169 damn days! I’ve avoided sex for so long because I wanted more perhaps out of jealousy; I also felt like time was running out for me. I go back and forth between wanting something real and wanting to be a fucktoy. This internal struggle is real!

This lack of sex situation has gotten so bad that I’ve actually cried. I don’t know whether to attribute it to the hypersexuality of bipolar disorder, the neediness of the love addiction, or if a sista is just plain lonely. Perhaps it’s all of the above. The hell if I know!

I need to feel desired if only for that moment. I need to feel someone pressed against me. I want to lose myself inside of someone else. I just need a release that I simply cannot get from self-pleasure or directing this energy elsewhere. I miss the smell, sweat, dirty talk, moans, and the feeling of a stiff one inside of me filling all my voids. I need to feel someone’s mouth and hands all over me. I know I must sound deranged or like an addict right now.

I feel like if I don’t have sex I’m going to die from an unfulfilled vagina. I think about it constantly. I’m having sexy dreams about Silver Fox and others. I’m watching the filthiest of porn. I get sexually excited from reading dirty ads on Craigslist. I listen to ads posted by perverts on telephone personals. It’s gotten bad y’all. I’m surprised that I haven’t stripped butt naked and was like…


I inboxed Fire on Facebook. I did not hint that I wanted sex but he probably knew I did anyway. I really don’t keep in contact with him. I sent the following thirsty ass messages to him:


“Soon” wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Soon could be next week or next month. I haven’t responded yet. I want to have sex but I feel embarrassed about how thirsty I came across. Who sends a crying emoticon because they can’t have sex right then and there? What has become of me?

Don’t answer that question y’all.