The more observant amongst you will have noticed there hasn’t been an update since June. We feigned absence due to holiday which is only partly true.
We normally write the blog in real time and report back on encounters as an exorcism, a way of cementing a fuck indelibly somewhere to remember.
Sometimes the fuck has a few episodes, sometimes we keep some detail back, sometimes we lose interest.
We’ve never felt it necessary to explain ourselves but disappointing readers of four years weighs heavy.
Lately there have been only whimpers in the basic sense. Sobs of frustration. Curses at how stupid we have been. And as the blog was always a means of getting things out of the system – please indulge us this one time.
He was wrong from the start. But we were hooked from the moment he put his lips on our pussy in a snowstorm. And the worst thing is, the sex wasn’t even very good.
But your mind can play tricks on you and invent an entire relationship from small incidents.
And now we are in a mess. Not crying, because our heart is too hard and we are too tired.
Our identity is, and has always been linked to who and how often we are fucking.
So when you aren’t fucking anyone, who the fuck are you?