I'm an addict.

Addictions.

They tend to find me without even trying.

I become addicted very easily, I become addicted to a lot of different things.

It can be music, it can be the bass, it can be the sound of someones voice, crawling beneath my skin. It can be a smell, the smell of you, the smell of him, the smell of sunshine or love or sex. It can be a sound, of a laugh, a giggle, a moan. I could be addicted to the softness of his lips, or the way his abs feel like when I let my hand slide over it. I could be addicted to the smooth skin just beneath his chin, or I could be addicted to the warmth of his embrace. I could be addicted to him, to his kisses, to his thrusts, to his laugh, his voice, his smell, his being, his mind, his words. 

I can get addicted to anything and everything. It's not even hard.

All in all, I'm an addict.

My filthy slutty boy

There you stand, holding her hand. You aren't smiling like you did to me.. Why aren't you smiling? Why doesn't your eyes glow when you look at her face? Is she just a disappointment? Or a beautiful disaster? Isn't she lovely? Isn't she what you had hoped for?

I want to show up on your door-step. I want to knock on your door, and see you standing in it. I want you to fuck me senseless, even though she was waiting for you, dinner and a movie. I want to be the dirty, little secret that you use to escape her disappointment. I want to make you my slave again, 'cause that was all you ever really were.You were good sex. Great sex, actually. Hot, amazing, strong and rough. But you never really meant anymore than that.. Than filthy sex. And I want it back, I do, and how funny wouldn't it be to have her sitting alone, waiting for you, while we fuck in your kitchen, and then you go home to her, missing me like hell.


But I won't do a thing, because that's what being a good girl means