I think my medication is part of it. Whatever it is doing to my brain, it is making me more open… more eager. I touch myself more than I used to. I fantasize longer, and harder. I go quiet sometimes, just picturing a man’s voice saying obscene things to me while his wife sleeps nearby. The idea that I could be the one he turns to — not for love, but for release — that makes me ache in ways I should not admit.
I think I am turning into a Goonette. Or maybe I always was, and I just never said it out loud before. I masturbate until I forget what time it is. Until I feel raw. Until shame starts to press in around the edges. And still, I want more.
Do you know how maddening it is to be a woman with a hypersexual mind, living inside a marriage that is steady and safe — but sexually silent?
Not just sex in a general sense — but about being used. Not by my husband. Not by someone who loves me. But by a married man who wants me only for the filthy, unspoken things I make him feel.
I know how wrong that sounds.
But this website is not helping me recover. If anything, it is pulling me deeper. The comments, the erections, the women being degraded in the exact ways I secretly crave — it is all fuel. And I burn so easily now.
