the healing powers of revenge sex

Last night I got fucked. It was fuckin amazing. It was the kind of fuck that makes you forget that recently your heart was crushed. It was the kind of magic that you could have only asked for in the past life because you knew as you were writing your story that you were going to be in this position and would NEED this epic kind of sex.

So what had happened was: This weekend like a ton of bricks i was hit with news by a man i was once prepared to pack my bags and move across the world to be with. This man was the Ade killer. You remember the internalized racist bastard that I was madly in love with earlier this year? Well, this guy made it easier to forget the loser that he was and to remind me that I’m still young and wanted and I can still love. Grant it took a few more months of being completely preoccupied with my life to forget about Ade and his racist wife and how dirty they did me, but this guy was the opening to that transformation.

Actually I haven’t totally forgot about Ade, I’ll be talking in full about the experience in NYC in 2017. I’ll keep you posted.

Anyway, I met this guy in Austria. Where we had copious amounts of sex and had enough feelings for each other to discuss me coming back and being with him. As a heaux, I had very strict conditions, which he was ok with. But because I still had lingering hurt from Ade, I was afraid. On a few occasions I expressed this fear of not knowing if he was true. He assured me he was. But I still wasn’t convinced. So I expressed it again, in more detail. Showing my vulnerability. It’s not you. It’s me. I expressed. I am going through things. Nervous. And not sure I can trust you.

He never responded for 3 days. And so I blocked him on most of my social media pages.

I was able to compartmentalize him because of my travels. But I never once forgot him. Always wondering about him. If it was because he was seeing someone why he never assured me that he was there for me. I wondered if I should call. I wanted to call. But I was busy, and he rejected me. Fuck him. But damn. I want him. But nah fuck him. He dissed me.

A couple months ago I reached out to him on Facebook. Telling him how the trips to Austria were so cheap and I wanted to come down there and be with him. To fuck him brains out. But you have communication issues, I said. For someone who speaks 8 languages you just can’t say what it is. He told me that he decided not to contact me again after my last message, which I thought was cold and heartless. And I then blocked him on Facebook.

Fast forward to this weekend when I get a text from a strange number on whatsapp. Who is this? I asked. It was him. And I was shocked but not shocked. Because just last week our mutual friend and I were just speaking about him. And he has been heavy on my mind for several weeks now. I reluctantly responded, but I was curious to know what brought this on.

I’m going to speed into this story and get to the point: After asking him, (with fear of what the answer would be), if he had a girlfriend, not only did he tell me yes, but he told me he was living with her, near Munich where he moved.

But wait. There’s more.

The one month trip he’s taking in January to Senegal where he’s from, he’s taking her with him.

But wait. There’s more.

I am the one he loves. And If I am just patient, he will fix this.

After much tears, and yelling and gaslighting (of course this is my fault for leaving. Not his for not even making an attempt to reach out to me for the 4 weeks before he met her. And for the weeks leading up to him moving in with her. And before the flight to Senegal was booked). I became drunk and assured him I will fuck everyone that comes in my path.

2 clients in I was on a roll but felt empty. Maybe I should just be patient and wait for him.

I felt like shit.

Damn. Money really isn’t everything.

And luckily at my hour of need, Stamina Daddy texts me. After a failed attempt to meet, I was finally able to get to him last night.

AND THE HEALING BEGINS

At first I was an emotional wreck. Crying silently as I thought about the man I wanted to be with being with another woman. my darling favorite client could sense it. Things weren’t normal between. Even trying to drink absolute straight from the bottle wasn’t loosening me up. I was genuinely pissed and hurt. Our chemistry wasn’t meshing like it does normally. We stopped.

He asked what was wrong. I just blamed it on everything else that was happening in my life. He understood. (Come on! I couldn’t tell my favorite that I was actually heartbroken!) At some point later as I layed on the bed, he rolled me over and what took place was completely the best moment of my heaux life.

He not only fucked me like he loved me, he told me he loved me. Told me I meant the world to him, as he grinded inside of me like I have never ever had done before. That night I found out how many nooks and crannies were in my sugar walls. He stroked my spot, I screamed out in agony. He kissed me, sucked my neck, my breasts. He spread my legs and gave me every inch of his dick. And I took it with moans, screams and scratches to his back. After a good 90 minutes of pounding and back-shots, slow kissing and trading of sentiments, I fell asleep, forgetting that I’m at work and need to go the hell home.

But not before I told him he was the best, as no one EVER fucked me like that before. I thanked him. But not for the sex like he may have thought. For helping me, through the powers of orgasm release a lot of the energy for the two-bit nigga I had been arguing with for the past few days.

Afterwards I still hang on a little. Thinking I should buy a ticket and fly to the ends of the earth to look this man in the eye and demand he leave that woman now. Telling him over the phone wasn’t enough. I wanted him to leave her NOW! Break up with her and marry me, is what I ordered him to do. But according to him he couldn’t just, leave her like that.

He could.

But selfishness and an abusive personality won’t let him. He’d rather string the woman along, take her to meet his family in Senegal and take his time to break up with her, while I sit there at the edge of my seat waiting to see if he was really going to choose me.

If I am truly the woman he loves like he claims. The one he wants to be with. And if my leaving caused him to get into this revenge relationship, then why not leave her now? I told him I’ll never forgive him if he goes to Senegal with her. He said then I’m not ready to be with him then. Truth is he’s not ready to be with me. He’s not ready to be forthcoming. He’s not ready to accept the love, the kind of love I can give him. He’s not ready to move forward as we spoke about when we first met back in the spring. He’s not ready to admit that him getting in such a deep relationship was his choosing and not mine. He isn’t even ready to allow me to grieve. Why should I forgive him before he has proven that it is me he wants, and not just to string me along while he plays house with her and eventually marries her and starts a family?

Why should I deal with this? I’m a whore. I look at most situations from a Whore-eye point of view. And if it don’t make dollars it don’t make sense. And in this situation not even money was spent for me to think that this could be true. Part of me wants to practice patience and see how this plays out. But his abusive tactics, his inability to think about anyone but himself–I mean the boy is irresponsible. He is literally willing to ruin this woman’s life, by dragging out a break up, instead of just ending it now before it got worse. How cold a heart do you have to have? He doesn’t love me enough to leave. And doesn’t love her enough to leave. He doesn’t love himself enough to be honest.

I’m an honest person that works in an honest business. I’m a genuine loving person. And I love hard and unconditionally. Unless of course the conditions are I wait for a man who claims he loves me, to leave a woman months later; after he takes her to meet his family.

This isn’t going to go well.

And I want to thank my favorite client for coming to my rescue last night. For pounding me so hard, with such passion, with so much love that it has helped to clear my mind a little more and I can stop walking right into this disaster.

Sometimes the best way to get over someone is to get involved with another person. Which on a very slight level is what I think the Senegalese did. But on another level, I sense he actually just didn’t care. We live far from each other and that’s hard in itself. But if a woman blocks you on social media, and you claim she is the one you have always loved, but you made no effort, not even the smallest to reach out to her to tell her this before your next relationship got deep, you’re lying.

He could have tried and he didn’t.

But my favorite client tried to make me feel better. And I was healed. I was healed right on his dick.

BH

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