On searching for the inner slut.

My life at the moment consist of posing for Rodin’s recreations and watching self-help “how to make a guy to like you” yoututbe channels. I guess it’s levelling up from “how to stop think about suicide” videos, but I swear the shit storm in mind makes me wish I stayed in the emotional void zone.

I had an extremely entertaining facebook conversation recently. It started off with some Polish guy asking if I’m home, because he would like to fuck me hard very much.

I took it as a compliment, but couldn’t recall meeting him. His story goes  as such: his bro fucked me at a bus stop in my home town some summer night 2 years ago, my ex-lover gave him head.

That made me suspicious. Not being fucked in a public place by some random guy – back then I would do that on a weekly basis to fight the boredom. The unbelievable part was her doing down on anyone in my presence.

He changed version and the girl was my friend. At that point he lost me. The other girl found an unfailing excuse never to put a penis in her mouth: her sweet little imaginary spontaneous lockjaw.

Oh, have I mentioned that there are no bus stops in my home town?

The only thing I could believe is my behaviour, because if I may be honest – I miss that girl so much.

She was fun and I wanted to wake her up since the January. I truly wanted to fuck and not give a fuck again. I succeeded once in Wroclaw, morning after I went classical me with:

-It was lovely to meet you, have a nice life!

Closing the door and rushing for a coach to Warsaw.

Apparently my inner slut didn’t make it to the plane or she still hangs out at Stanstead waiting for me to visit Poland again.

Thanks to my most recent ex and the magic ingredient (Nymphomaniac volume one) we’ve brought into our bed, I got into a habit of personalising the penises around me. The people I recently hang out (read: get drunk) with are truly amazing and I can’t simply my perception of them to just one body part.

I feel so mature right now I’m expecting wrinkles invasion onto my face any minute now…

I got to the stage I am capable of deciding not to have sex if it’s not with the people I like and care for.

Or just got so insecure I can’t stand the thought of a person in my bed not caring for me.

by Michael French