Editor's note: This is the first part in an ongoing series by CL's newest sex and love blogger, the Charlotte Harlot.
I admit it. I use sex to self-soothe. I broke up with my live-in boyfriend a while back and have been keeping myself busy by taking on a few lovers. I'm not looking to replace him. Hell, at this point I would swear off men completely if not for the fact that I love to fuck. Dildos and porn don't do it for me. I need a living, breathing man. I need someone to say my name, pull my hair and spank my ass. Thankfully, men are easy to come by.
Before this break-up I was a serial monogamist. Since high school, I have been in one relationship after another. It's nice to have someone to lay around with on Sunday afternoons, complain to about your lame job, and make you soup when you get a cold. But I am tired of traversing the relationship roadmap. They have all led to the same destination: heartache. I like men, but, apparently, I suck at relationships. So I'm taking a break and "doing me," as they say. I'm trying to get in shape, get my finances in order, and get used to being alone.
So far, so good. Except I miss sex. Sometimes I feel like a freak because so many men complain about their wives or girlfriends not being into sex. In my relationships, I am the one who usually wants it more than the guy. I haven't gotten therapy about it, but it probably stems back to some daddy issues from my childhood and craving a man's attention. Or maybe I just like sex. Slow sex, fast sex, tender sex, rough sex, sex during the day, sex in the middle of the night, sex in the bed, sex on the kitchen table, sex, sex, sex - I like it all.
I am not a prude, but I just haven't had the experience of having sex for the sake of having sex. It's always been in the context of a relationship. A few weeks into my sexual hiatus, I literally clawed the length of my desk while telling a guy friend about my dilemma. I needed sex, and bad, but didn't know how exactly to get it. He couldn't believe I had never picked up a man before. He convinced me there was a no-fail strategy: wear a skirt and knee high boots, sit at the bar, be friendly. That's it. Three easy steps. Could it really be that simple?
Yes, it really is that simple. I freshened up after work, put on a black pencil skirt and black boots and sat my ass down at the bar at Hickory Tavern. There was a man on my left and a man on my right, and within a few minutes I was chatting it up with both of them. After about 35 minutes (yes, I timed it!) the one on the left asked me if we could leave and go somewhere more private to get to know each other. He suggested a walk around the lake at the University Place boardwalk. How romantic!
Romance, however, was not to be had that night. He did take my hand, but only to lead me to a secluded spot under a stairwell where he kissed me, unzipped his pants, and put my hand on his rather large throbbing dick. It had been so long since I had touched a man. God, I love cocks! He was soft and warm and pretty soon he was in my mouth.
We ended up back at his place. I wanted to have sex with him, and on the other hand, I didn't want to have sex with him. He was not my type at all. He was a pizza delivery guy for Christ's sake! What the hell was I thinking going back to his crappy apartment, complete with semi-passed out roommate and dense fog of weed and cheap beer? Agh! This is so wrong! Yet, I wanted sex and nothing else, and that is exactly what he offered. It also felt like I needed a gateway guy - someone to usher me into slutdom.
So I did it. I had sex with him. Three times. It was not at all bad or regrettable. My only mistake was that I instinctively turned it into something more and started calling him and even visiting him at work. Old habits die hard.
Then one night, while kissing him and almost gagging from the pizza smell oozing out of his pores, I wondered why I was with him when there were so many other men out there. Light bulb moment! So many other men...
Since that realization, I have taken the opportunity to sample some of Charlotte's sexiest bachelors, and a few married guys too. Every day brings with it new possibilities of new men to enjoy. I have fully embraced my slut nature.
The Charlotte Harlot is a good girl gone wild. She likes her men tall, tattooed, and meaty. She prefers whiskey over wine. She hates cats. She would like to find a man that deserves her, but until then, she will enjoy having sex with a bunch of men who don't.
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