" I'VE NEVER MASTURBATED THIS MUCH IN MY FUCKING LIFE.... HONESTLY. i'm not kidding. i'm like a fourteen year old boy. this is FUCKED. PLEASE CALL ME. send someone out to chicago and tell them they can stay here for free and they just need to have sex with me twice a day and then they can go and do whatever they want. and i'm pretty too. send them a photo. honestly. i don't want to put this offer public cuz i don't want everyone to know how desperate i am. i will only tell you. PLEASE HELP ME. CALL ME. TALK TO ME. I'M SOOOO LONLELY. I GOT A LESBIAN DATE TONITE. there are suitors but i can't deal with the dating bullshit. i just want sex. and someone to lay in bed and watch tv with all day. (you were good at that). "


This is an excerpt from an email to one of my long term ex boyfriends who is now living in Southern California that was written earlier today while I was in a sexual frenzy . I say long term because I dated him for 5 years and he has been my ex boyfriend for three years. I felt TERRIBLE writing this. But it is what I feel. I am so goddamned lonely. Mostly for sex. The past week every fucking dream I have is involving having sex... of all sorts... sex with people I've been with, sex with people I wouldn't go near with a flaming ten foot pole, sex with celebrities or whoever ends up being on the television that is usually blasting next to my head while I am sleeping. I am constantly waking up humping a damn pillow, or worse... my teddy bear who I have taken to sleeping with out of lonlieness, but who has not become a hump toy for my monkey ass. I have stuck some things up my orifi in the past week while drunk and in a sexual frenzy that, if I told you, you would probably really enjoy it, but I endangered myself, and lets leave it at that.

This goddamned 5 dollar candy red vibrator that I bought as a joke years ago has never gotten so much action. That fucking thing is up my vagina about 6 full hours a day... And when that thing is not in, it's the ass egg that I got on full blast up my cooch. I spend more money on batteries than I do on rent. That is just on for regular everyday around the house activities like washing the dishes and watching Tyra. I am like a crazed manaic. I am a fourteen year old boy. You know, I guess it is true. I had always heard that women reached their sexual prime around this age, but I really never thought I'd live this long, but man this is horrible.

And this shitty relationship.... (if you can call it that... I prefer this two year trail of tears walking knee deep through dog vomit) has left me so goddamned sex starved, I swear to the lord I'm glad there is not a dog around when I drink because if it was a chiuahua or a small dog, I might just try to shove it up there, but if it was a bigger dog, I think the dog might look like prince charming and I am not into unconsentual sex... especialy with animals. But I am getting into desperate means. One thing Precious (my ex) was good for was the fact that he had a penis. And he (like any good ape) knew how to stick it in the right hole and pump away. It was that sort of animalistic stupidity that I think I liked so much about him. The sex was a major plus to everything. Now I have nothing.

I mean less than a week ago I was employed by a place where a man would pay me hundreds to put him in a diaper... and now I'm ready to shell out the dough just for some dude to come by and stick their boner in me and blow a load on my stomach and leave. He doesn't even have to wipe it off. I don't care anymore.

I really hate having to do this. Like I said in the letter, I don't want to sound desperate because I am not. I have plenty of suitors and menz ringin' my phone. But me being a bit on the eccentric side tends to draw the most fucking goddamned insane group of men possible who won't bone and bolt. And I've done that several times and that is ultimately unsatisfying unless you can work out a schedule. And then that leads to some kind of relationship and that's not what I think I'm looking for.

One possible suitor is very funny. And I know that this man would not only be great in the sack, but go along with anything I said. He has been trying to get me for YEARS now, and whenever I had fights with my boyfriends, there he was, bringing me flowers and saying the right things. I must reveal a small detail about this man though that sort of changes the story and makes it interesting. This man is now approaching 50 years of age. In his prime, he was a very successful pimp. And when I say pimp.... I mean PIMP. He owned a block in Chicago which is STILL one of the prime strolls we have for street hookers. In uptown. He had four girls at one time. All the best hookers in the area. They were robbing, fucking, hustling, selling everything they could, to give him money. Four of the hottest white ho's money could buy. He is black. But he prefers white meat.

With a resume like that, the man is a definate contender. And he wants to take care of me. He is no longer a pimp. He has like eighteen kids and lives with his sister. Our relationship came because he was friends with my ex boyfriend and then we became friends. He's funny and very smart. He is even cute. He doesn't dress all flashy, but of course he used to back in the day. I mean he was a real badass. The reason I see him now is strictly bidnezz'. But it ain't pimpin. He wants me and when he does come over it is hard to get him to leave once he comes to my house. He obviously does not want to leave without a piece. And in the rabid dog sex starved state I am in now... I just might let this old pimp fuck me. But I can't. It'll just bring problems. I remind him of his old ho's. And he's barely making it right now. I just know he'll keep calling. And he's not 30 anymore. He's looking for something permanant.

Like I said this is pathetic. Now I have already decided what happens to a gal like me. It is a six step theory that I have come up with, and the sixth step is yet to happen, but it is in the process. So I'll share it with you... When you live the type of life I have lived, it is only absolutely inevitable that you will end up a reclusive lesbian. This is why.

Step 1. Have a really fucked up childhood, and first real relationship with a girl in high school. And have all kinds of fucked up sexual things happen to you as a kid.

Step 2. Get on a TON of hard drugs and then start dating a fellow and turn him onto all of the drugs and live for three years with him in some insane drug fueled relationship.

Step 3. Get out of that relationship. and mostly get off drugs, but get addicted to sex and start sleeping with any terribly diseased coldsore pockmarked cock that will point my way. Meet a lot of shitheads in bars and have a lot of sex with them.

Step 4. Get sick of fucking shitheads, and go onto meeting the GRANDMASTER OF THE SHITHEADS, and start dating him. Make sure you move in with him RIGHT AWAY. Get into an abusive relationship with this shithead. Have him beat you and steal from you and treat you like shit.

Step 5. Get a job doing daily sex work and witness the craziest sex acts known to man. Allow this to sink in slowly, and along with the drugs, the abuse, the childhood shit, and everything make sure you come out of it the best person you can possibly be.

Step 6. Meet a girl who also works in the sex industry and has a shitty boyfriend and have her live with you and do videos and stuff only to make money, but become reclusive lesbians.

That's my 6 step plan. I seem to fall somewhere in the beginning of step 6. I have met potential reclusive lesbian partner. Things just need to happen. They will. I don't doubt it. But don't think this is just me. I mean, haven't you ever watched a porno or looked at a magazine or had a fucked up female friend and wondered... gee whatever happened to Candy?? I know she's not dead. But where the hell could she be. I guarentee 7 times out of ten she's become a reclusive lesbian.

That is my destiny. I have a date with the girl tonite in fact and if she is anything like me (since she is in charge of driving) she will not show up and we will talk several more times befoe we finally meet, get drunk, and inevitably hook up. You see, if you follow my 6 step plan above, she falls somewhere between step 4 and 5 and she's living with this abusive fucked up retard. She needs a place to stay. Meg will open her house, her arms, and her legs to this wayward porno actress, and she can stay as long as she wants. And we will sit around, get fat, and eventually become BBW models.

The bottom line though is that I do not like girls, but there is an exception, there is a such thing as a girl, but gender spans much further than just boy/girl. So when I say I'm not attracted to girls, I mean women, but then there's all this other shit. You see I LOVE boobs, but I am not sexually attracted to "girls"... but working at the fetish dungeon I got to experience some ladies who are quite proficient with a strap on, and all you dudes out there who think you're the shit with your big cocks and great bodies.... guess what... STRAP ON'S COME IN EVERY SIZE, SHAPE, COLOR, AND MATERIAL. If I want a glass dick.. I get a glass dick. If I want SOLID GOLD... I can get SOLID FUCKING GOLD. Also men have gross, hairy chests, and I know all you men out there agree that boobs are WAY the fuck better than their male alternatives. So honestly there is no need for a male I guess. I can get the best of both worlds.

Unfortunately, what I am writing right now is all fantasy. Fortunately, It is not too far from reality. Like I said, my future lezzie friend has indicated she needs a place to stay for refuge from her apish retard of a boyfriend. The wheels are in motion. But in the meantime... I need SOMETHING. Cuz goddamn' I'm a humpin' furniture here. I stand in front of the fucking window naked... hoping that at least some dude is gettin off to it. I do love my toys, and my legal pharmecuticals, and my liquor, but I need a HUMAN BEING.

The pimp would have been GREAT had this been 20 years ago. Now he wants a lady to spend his elder years with. I can't be that lady. If he was a younger strapping young black pimp I would be on that shit like a white runaway at the bus station to a black hustler, but now... it is different.

How does a girl like me find solace. I'm in my fucking sexual prime. Why in the fuck did whoever made us make males get their sexual prime when they're like 14 and women wanting to do it all the time in their like late 20's early thirties if they KNEW that there would be a law saying that A gal like me can't do it with a high school dude. It's just not right. I'd be trolling the high schools if it weren't illegal.

Everything is pathetic right now. My stupid love life has never been an issue. It's been like a revolving door. But now I'm secluded and agoraphobic. Oh shit. It's time to change the batteries again. What do I do Ann Landers???? What would Tyra say??? How about that carpet munchin Ellen??? I bet she can feel my plight. Someone give me some advice... or their fourteen year old son.... or more batteries.


- Meg McCarville