Soon after my husband left me I decided I would no longer keep track of the number of sex partners I’ve had.  Which I’ve not.  The man who would eventually become the Ex was no. 20.  And by the time we broke up I was probably at around 30, because I cheated a whole lot.

Right now I would guess I’m not yet up to 1,000.  So I’ve fucked somewhere between 30 and 1,000 men (and of course some women).  I admit that’s quite a range, but do numbers matter all that much?

Numbers don’t matter, but volume does, because I LOVE fucking sluts.  LOVE it.  I want to know all details of the other people a guy’s fucked.  I want to know that the guy’s put his dick in all the holes he’s encountered.  I want to suck the cock that’s been in the pussies, and asses, and mouths.  And a bi guy–HOT because he’s had the opportunity to be an even bigger slut.  Hearing about all the dirty fun a guy’s had–or better yet, is currently having–makes me want to fuck him even more.

I also don’t keep track of names.  In my experience names aren’t all that important anyway.  Knowing a person’s name does not equate knowing the person, and people who think it does weird me out a bit.  I think it’s creepy when someone I’m fucking or sucking says my name too much–and I’ve told them as much (y’all know who you are).  I’m a person, not a name.

Nor do I know what my “ideal” cock size is.  I simply do not know.  The size that feels good in my hand/mouth/pussy/ass is optimal.  Amazingly enough, I do not keep a tape measure next to the bed, or anywhere in my apartment.  I do tend to be a bit of a size queen, but I’ve not kicked a guy with a hard cock and a fun attitude out of bed based on the size of his tool.

I swear.  True story.