It hurts to swallow, my muscles ache, my knees are scratched and dry and I suspect I am severely dehydrated. Being a slut is taxing, especially if you are working overtime.
After a long week of dropping and adding classes right before the add-drop window closed, I needed to blow-off some steam to feel like a person again. So I went on the apps, it was 1 a.m. on a Saturday, I was lazily scrolling through profiles not thinking much of what (or who) I would end up doing — to be honest I just wanted a visual distraction before falling asleep.
Then he got online, Gustave (need I say the names will be all fake at this point), who I had met during the first week of classes at a party. He was very nice and, to be honest, he left me wanting to talk to him more. So I did it, I decided to break my no-initiative rule and I asked if he was interested in some late night talking. Five minutes later I found myself on the way over.
And just as I had gotten there, I left with my mouth full of warm — and sweet — cum and ready to head to bed. It was a short n’ sweet encounter, lots of kissing, sucking and rimming. I was satisfied, but I had just gotten a message from Giovanni, another guy I had met around the same time as Gustave. He wanted me to go over, and as much as I wanted to, I knew I needed to make him wait — partly because I thought it would be improper to show up smelling and tasting like another guy’s cum, but also because I was tired. So I reached an agreement for the next afternoon.
As luck would have it, I finished my morning walk and I went to have some fun. I was doing all the sucking but he truly blew me away. He knew just what to say, when to shove it in my mouth, and was one of the best kissers I’ve found at Cornell. It also helped that he was super handsome and nice, and his cum tasted like crème fraîche. I failed to mention I spent hours, yes multiple, blowing his brains off — I guess I was good because he’s taking me to dinner tomorrow. By this point I thought I started to realize my throat wasn’t as resilient as I thought it would be — but then my phone started ringing.
Guillaume — a guy who I went on a couple dates with was hitting me up. What’s one to say when a cute guy says come over on a Sunday evening? As you can imagine I was walking my little ass all the way down to his place. The whole encounter felt more like a wrestling match, I was thrown around like a rag doll — my legs felt like jelly right after and even now they are still sore. I liked it, I do have a thing for roughness so I was happily moaning away.
But after a day of fooling around right at the end of the weekend, I was left exhausted. I mean it is just not sustainable to spend that much time with a d**k in either hole. If I am honest I don’t know what I am looking for relationship-wise. I have just enjoyed the time to myself, and any cute gentleman I cross paths with. But all that crossing left me at a crossroad between staying single and flirty, or starting to weed out some of my gentleman friends to pursue things with a specific guy.
Right now I am not set yet, but it is starting to get hard to juggle all the chats, meet-ups and matches. There are a couple guys who are asking me out on dates who I know would want to escalate things further, and I don’t want to miss out on a nice relationship for being a slut. Ithaca is famous for its slim pickings and I don’t want to look back on college and regret not giving a relationship an earnest shot. So here I am, committing myself to give dates a fair shot and pushing talking stages to sort themselves out. But while I juggle all those c**ks in my mouth, I will continue to have my fun with kindred spirits.
Until next time,
Stay slutty.
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