I don’t know if I’ve ever admitted this to the universe, but today is going to be a first. Maybe this blog will help to break that seemingly suffocating cloud that looms in my environment, blocking the next phase of my journey from being grabbed and accepted. Today I have to admit that I’m an sex addict. I don’t know really when this became known to me, but I am here to acknowledge it today. It feels so weird to admit to such a thing because sex is seen as so out of bounds by many, misunderstood by some and nasty by others. Maybe it’s because I’m a openly, Black, gay man and I know that in my community those are three strikes right there, so to also admit that I have an addiction to having sex with men just seems like the final nail in my proverbial coffin. I mean how much more of a sinner could I be in the eyes of some right? For the question is.. how the fuck did I let this happen? When did I really become this sex starved guy? For the longest I use to be the guy that wanted that long term commitment. Wanting to have someone who wanted to share his body mind and soul with me. That way, the sex would feel better, it would linger longer, my dick would stay hard seemingly forever, and my ass would so moist that just a couple strokes would make me cream. I yearned for that in every relationship I had, and because of that, I wasn’t really willing to just fuck just because. I thought that having a couple sex partners being single was cool, but not too many. Always wanting to save the extras for that one guy.

Well, somewhere between being cheated on and mistreated and abused, I guess that hopeless romantic, that deep lover, got sidelined and gave way to the whore that exists today. It feels like I can’t even stop when I say that I’m going to take a break. Since I’ve been single the past 6 months, it’s like I’ve been playing catch for the lack of sexual attention and satisfaction my ex gave me the prior 6 months that we were living together. It felt as though with him I was willing to wait for the moon in order to have sex with him. It didn’t happen often at all, the fuck sessions in six months together. He probably sucked my dick maybe 10 times total. He complained that my dick was too thick made his jaws hurt, so he didn’t want to suck it so often, even though he claimed that dick sucking was his passion. He complained that my width stretched his hole too much and do he couldn’t take having sex regularly with me. Through all that I attempted to make the best of the times when we did. All the while, in the back of my mind I was screaming for more. Wanting to have passionate, love making sex, three times a week. Knowing that anything else would be too much, I figured that would be reasonable. It wasn’t for him and so my drought was epic for me. I thought at that moment I had my sexual sweet tooth under control.

However, once we broke up, it was like the chains to my sexual demon were unleashed and I haven’t been able to stop myself or slow down at all. One after another, same guy, different guy. Ass, dick, head and all of the above. Solo missions and threesomes. One a day up to as many as four a day. Temporarily stopping to get sleep and allow my body to have a slight recovery. Only to be tempted by a cute face, delicious body, big dick, juicy ass, and all that I’ll slow up talk disappeared like smoke from a blunt in the air. Replaced by a sultry lust for release. Not satisfied until that last drop of cum leaves my or his dick. Asses wet, flip fucking, that means we fuck each other, smiling when it’s all said and done. Smoking a blunt or two, just to loosen things up and allow the real freaks to emerge and leave their mark. U name the location, I’ve done it. The driveway, the street, the duck off, the car, the house, the shower, the bathroom, work, home it didn’t matter. I was willing to be caught if it meant releasing that beast that wanted to feel that sexual satisfaction. The fact that I’ve fucked at every job I’ve had since I’ve returned to this city is crazy. To be fair I’ve had two full time jobs and two part times jobs. I’ve fucked in the department store dressing room too. I’ve fucked with people watching in the room, with the blinds and curtains open. I’ve recorded some sessions and watched them back while we prepare to fuck again. All of these encounters and it still hasn’t been enough to satisfy that taste.

What’s crazier is that there is a specific set of people out there, who all they really want is the one off sex with you. No matter how good it was, they don’t want to repeat, they want someone different each time or a different scenario. I am the type of addict that if you got some shit ass and/or dick, I wanna keep getting it until I can’t have it anymore. Blow my mind and make me want to leave you alone. But that just seems to be a little too much here. The itch is too strong that once you have it once, maybe twice, they move on; which in turn means I move on to the next too. Finding the next one who’s ready to fill that prescription. Make me feel how I want to feel so that for that moment or day, my sexual desires are satisfied. I used to know how many people I had slept with. Even when the number was just barely over 100 I knew. Now, it’s been soo many people. Soo many hook ups, link ups and fucks, that I really don’t know. I can’t remember them all if I tried hard, because some days it was all a blur. That sexual fire burning so bright all I cared to do was have my fire rage, and then extinguished from however many sexual interactions it took to calm that flame.

Maybe it’s because of all the hurt and pain that I just turn to the sex as a means of coping. So many years spent trying to be a great boyfriend. Doing all the things I feel that a man should do to keep home happy. Making sure that my lover knew no lack, no not only materialistically, but completely. Loving on him, giving him attention, feeling his emotions. No, I was never perfect and will never pretend to be, but I know I was a damn good boyfriend. I always tried to work on my flaws and made sure that I didn’t make the same mistakes in the next relationship as I did in the prior one. Always willing to take constructive feedback to work on myself and be a better me. That shit never worked. All it did was allow niggas a chance to get the utopia they dreamed of and then run away, claiming they weren’t ready for that realness yet. Maybe it’s how I’m dealing with the loss of my twins and the abortion of what would have been my first born son a couple years earlier. Maybe it’s a ways for me to feel appreciated just a little. As twisted as it may sound, to hear and feel and see someone express their gratitude for your sexual pleasings makes you feel a little better about yourself. Until you realize that it’s just fucking, that you’re just a one off or a dick or ass call, then you want more. Maybe, it’s my way of filling the void of the people that I thought were friends, who ducked out on me. Years of fun times together. Laughing, joking, breaking bread, being there, listening, helping, supporting. But when the time came for me to get that support, feel that love, get that listening ear, break bread to help reassure me all would be well, that was too much to ask and all I get are half assed dry conversations. Avoidance of in person meet ups, to catch up and bond again.

Sex became my escape and my drug. Sex became the way for me to meet some half way cool people. No, they weren’t my true friends, but they filled a void in some way. Some times the sex did become regular, or we did more than just fuck here and there. Never enough, but just enough to take away that edge for that moment or that day. Leaving a trail though, of emptiness and loneliness in its wake. I guess while I don’t know exactly when I became a sex addict, I definitely know why I am one. How or if I can get rid of it, I guess that is the million dollar question.

Talk back to me… do you relate to this at all?