being a fuckboy, sexuality, love and relationships, this stuff is golden,

The Year I Became The Fuckboy

You told me I have the mindset of a boy.

I answered you it was the most accurate thing anyone has ever said to me.
But that wasn’t something special. Or different from what all the ones before you said.
The others. There have been so many before you.
I don’t even remember their faces now, barely their names.
Yet they all been inside me. Just like you did. And like you, you begged me to keep it causal, yet you wanted to, and you did, cum inside me.
Let’s keep it casual, but also let’s risk to have a baby together.

You think you told me original, unique, special things. Flattered me with
compliments. Waves on waves of nice things.
You like my legs, you think they’re perfect. You love my lips, you say they fit perfectly around your cock. You like the way I suck you. You go crazy when I swallow. I drain you.
You need to lay down for a few minutes, because nobody else makes you feel this way, and you’re not used to it.
You love pulling my hair, grab roughly my thighs, feeling my body under yours.
You think you got me, that I’m yours. Naïve.
I’m already thinking about someone else, and just came.
I won’t love them, just like I don’t love you. But my mind is already so far away. I can’t stop.
I don’t care about you. You tell me to slow down, to not fall in love. Love?
I can’t fall in love. I’m incapable of falling in love.
I thought I was unlovable, but guess what? I am not unlovable at all. Actually, it’s the opposite: you love me. All of them loved me.
I am the one who is absolutely incapable of loving. Anything or anyone.
You like saying it’s because of my daddy issues. Because I told you that apparently girls with daddy issues are way better than other girls in bed.
You loved that bullshit.
It gave you an excuse to sexualise my traumas. Do you think it’s funny? Does that turn you on? The massive hole I’ve been carrying around since I was 18? You can’t fill it, no matter how many times I let you cum inside of me. Your sperm can’t fill that hole.
Nothing or nobody can. It’s too late.
But you love that, don’t you? When I let you cum inside of me?
You tell me we are incompatible, yet you keep coming after me. You send me nudes, you ask for mine.
Do I make you hard in public? What do you tell your friends about me?

My ass drives you crazy, you crave my nipples like water the morning after a crazy night out.
I love watching you sucking them. But let’s keep it between us, I won’t tell anyone, that it makes me feel powerful.
You burst my ego.
All of you do.
I crave attention and you give me that. All the attention that I need.
I’m worse than you. Way worse.
You think you’re ahead of me, you think you can fuck any other girl anytime you want. You believe your own lies. For how long? A month?
Then you come back, with a joke, a line, some bullshit you had a lot of time to come up with.
I’m the one who leaves your house, and ten minutes later has somebody else inside.
The orgasm you don’t give me, someone else will.
Does he mean anything to me? Do you? Absolutely not.
I let men thorn me apart before.
It’s not going to happen ever again.
I’ve been used and thrown away.
I got sent flowers and not kissed after.
I won’t let you do that. You or anyone else, ever again.
I’m in charge now. You all are toys in my crib: and boy, oh boy, do I get bored of those toys quickly.
I will tell you that I miss you while I’m already planning to see someone else.
You can’t have me. I belong to no city, I belong to no man.
I let my friends take care of me now.
I am, the fuckboy.
It’s funny. How things change in less than 6 months. The person you can become.
“You can always have anyone you want, men literally all fall for you”.
Yes, funny.
Funny like you saying how sorry you are all the time.
You should have known better. Sorry? What are you sorry for?
Fucking me up?
Stop pretending.
You will stick around until I let you stick around.
You can have my legs wrapped around your body until I think it’s okay, until it’s still good fun.
Eventually you’ll start thinking I am the one. You will look for me in every woman you will sleep with. They won’t be me. You will never find anything of me in any of them. I am not like them.
At one point you will even consider saving me.
Saving me.

What’s there to save?
I don’t want to be saved. Too many people tried and failed. I’m perfectly fine. I write the rules. My own rules.
I have fun. Too much fun.
I’m focusing on myself: my body, my happiness, my career, my friends, my life. And yes, sex.
Sex makes me feel good. Hot, powerful, beautiful, in charge, satisfied.
Selfish? Whatever, as long as it makes me happy. Sex stay, you?

Thank you, next.

love and sex blog posts, this stuff is golden, fuckboy blog post,

For February I have decided to do LOVE AND SEX themed blog posts. Check out the tag to see more of this month’s theme! 

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