sex diaries

The Austin Writer With No Car, Too Much Free Time, and Too Many Exes

Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar.  This week, the Austin Writer With No Car, Too Much Free Time, and Too Many Exes: Female, 29, Austin, writer, single, heterosexual.


7 p.m. My friend Cherry is visiting from New York. She’s gained some weight. Her tits look huge. I mean, they’re always huge, but even huger. She’s shy, though. It’s annoying. How can you be shy and wear such low-cut clothes? It makes no sense. Maybe she’s not shy at all. Maybe all these years have been an act. I would love to teach her a lesson. Ex-Boyfriend always thought she was hot. I hate that. Maybe because she was shy. I’m not shy. I would tell him exactly what to do to me — how much and for how long. Now all she wants to talk about is sex with her married boyfriend in this innocent-child-trying-to-sound-grown-up voice. She’s going back to New York tomorrow. I’ll miss her. Sometimes I want to grab her tits, though — just to feel them. They look solid. She likes to spoon me when she sleeps next to me. I don’t get it. Why does she need to hug me in my sleep and then talk to me about pain and emotional attachment to married men? I think about a three-way with her and Ex-Boyfriend. I think of him doing things to her that he does to me. I think of telling him what to do to her.


9 a.m. I wake up to an e-mail from Ex-Boyfriend. He doesn’t say much, only asks how I’m doing. His message makes me wet. Why? Cherry is packing. Nowhere to really masturbate. Fucking houseguests, housemates, dogs everywhere. Bathroom. I like mirrors when I masturbate, which reminds me that I need to hang up a mirror in my bedroom. I squeeze my thighs together and rub myself in fast circular motions. Then I brush my teeth and wash my face, and Cherry and I go out for coffee and breakfast tacos.
9:30 a.m.
I’m shy with the boys in Austin. They’re polite and well mannered and hold the door for you while looking you straight in the eye. I think of the boy I met last week, whose name I can’t remember. He’s my friend’s cousin. He’s tall and good-looking. He works at a bar downtown and has (what I imagine to be) a fat cock. He made me blush when we were outside smoking a cigarette and he grabbed my hip. I also saw him staring me down when I was drunkenly dancing with my roommate. He gave me his phone number and told me to come by the bar. I haven’t yet. I should learn how to drive. Maybe I’ll look into that tomorrow.
3 p.m.
It’s mid-afternoon and I should be working, but instead I’m watching Animal Planet. Cherry is gone. I think of Ex-Boyfriend and start to touch myself, but I’m more hungry than horny so I decide to make lunch — mashed up avocado and jalapeños. I am proud of my healthy choice. I feel thinner already. After I eat, I sit back down on the couch and switch the channel to Millionaire Matchmaker. I start to masturbate again. It’s nice at first but I feel something burning. (Jalapeños. Fuck.) It hurts, but I don’t stop, and come really hard. I consider a shower but decide to wait it out instead, thinking soap and water will only make it worse. It subsides eventually and I switch the channel back to Animal Planet.

8 a.m. I wake up wetter than I ever remember myself being. I turn around and see my dog licking herself. It feels rather inappropriate, so I push her off the bed. I’ve been in this house for a month and still have stuff in boxes. Where did I pack my vibrator? I love my vibrator. It’s one of those G-spot ones. I have no clue where to start looking, so I start to masturbate with my vibrator in mind.
10 a.m.
I get a Facebook message from a boy I used to hook up with in New York, V. He says he’s hard. He likes to message me whenever he has a fight with his girlfriend. I haven’t actually had sex with V. in three years. I reply that he should rub one out. (Isn’t he at work? It’s ten in the morning.) He says I should help him. I say I want to sit on his face and suck his fat cock (which isn’t really that fat) while he licks my ass. I really wish I had my vibrator. Cyber-sex is a lot easier when you have a free hand. I get distracted and check my e-mail. I see a message from Ex-Boyfriend. He’s in Alaska finding himself or something. He says it’s cold and lonely there (duh) and he confesses that he’s been masturbating to the thought of me for the past two weeks. I come. I sign off with V. and then masturbate again, thinking of clenching myself around Ex-Boyfriend’s fingers while he licks my vagina. He’s online and G-chats me. We talk for a little while about Alaska and Texas and how ridiculous it is that he has never heard of John Waters. Then he says he wants me to send him some naughty pictures, so I snap a picture with my iPhone and e-mail it to him. Then we sign off.


9 p.m. I’m drunk. I just walked in the door from the bar. I love not driving. I’m Facebook chatting with my friend, E. I tell him about my recent “sext-capades” and he says I should sext him. He’s never said anything like that to me before. His girlfriend is the exact physical opposite of me. I find it strange and it makes me a little uncomfortable. I tell him I don’t think his girlfriend would appreciate it. He brushes it off like he’s joking, but I don’t think he is. I change the subject quickly.
9:30 p.m.
My friend/regular hook up, The Bassist, is online. I miss him. He’s the most fun I’ve ever had with a man. He is on tour in Europe with his band but heading back to New York tomorrow. He seems sad. I try to cheer him up by being gently sexually suggestive. I know he likes that. It doesn’t really work, although he does type a little winky smile. He also says not to waste my time missing him. As if you can control who you miss. I drink more cheap red wine and drunk-text Ex-Neighbor, who is an asshole and we kind of hate each other, which makes for some violently hot sex. We haven’t actually had sex in over a year, but we still sext sometimes. When we did have sex he would always leave marks on my body and we’d fuck while watching graphic slasher movies in his windowless bedroom. He tells me he’s on a date and that she’s boring the crap out of him. I reply and tell him he’s a dick and ask him if he’s going to fuck her. He says, yeah, probably. I tell him I’m turned on and I want him to tell me what he’s gonna do to her. I fill up another glass of wine and go to bed with my phone. Ex-Neighbor keeps texting me. He says he’s going to rip off her cotton panties and rest his penis in between her butt cheeks. Ex-Boyfriend used to do that to me. It makes me hot. I imagine a three-way with Ex-Boyfriend and Ex-Neighbor. I come hard from that image and say good-night.

7 a.m. I wake up to the ring of G-chat. It’s Ex-Boyfriend. He has typed out my name with a period after it. I reply with a hey. It’s two hours earlier in Alaska. He says he just got home from the bar and is in a room full of men and that it smells like feet. I say that’s unfortunate. Our conversation is sentimental, lots of I love yous, I miss yous, and Xs and Os. I ask him for pictures of his penis. He says he has no way to photograph himself because his phone doesn’t work. That explains all the e-mails. I tell him it’s okay because I remember quite well what his penis looks like. I have a phone meeting with a new client at 8. It’s now already 7:30. I sign off and masturbate, imagining really slow, warm sex with Ex-Boyfirend.
7 p.m.
Tonight I’m going to see John Waters’s Christmas special at the Paramount Theatre with my roommate, his boyfriend, and some other new friends. I’m going to wear high heels and make myself really tall. I’m also going to wear very red lipstick. After the show we are going to Friend’s Cousin’s bar. Maybe he’ll grab my hip again.
9:30 p.m.
After the show, we leave the Paramount and everyone agrees that we should just get wine and go home. Fuck. I pretend like I don’t care. I really should learn how to drive, finally. At home and I log onto Facebook and go to Friend’s Cousin’s page. He’s not as cute as I remember. Actually he has a little bit of a beer belly, which I find very unattractive. How did I not notice that? I get in bed, too tired and disappointed to masturbate. I talk to The Basist on G-chat for a while. He’s back in the States. I fall asleep with the bright computer screen on, hugging my phone.


10 a.m.: I wonder if I should Internet date again. I hate Internet dating. I’m kind of a romantic when it comes to casual sex, and I like to recycle men. The thought of them wanting me all over again makes me horny. I like to think of them thinking of me when they’re with other women — short, blonde, straight-haired women wearing platform shoes. I’m still in bed masturbating and thinking about Ex-Boyfriend. He used to sext me all the time when he lived with a short, blonde, straight-haired woman. Sometimes he would come over and dry hump me until he came in his pants. I never came during these dry humping “sessions,” but when he left, I’d masturbate over and over again thinking about how hot I made him. It didn’t work out between them. She and I are friends now — sort of. She doesn’t know about our almost-sexual affair while they were together. I don’t think I’ll ever tell her. He says he would love to come visit me in Austin. I imagine putting my tongue in his mouth and squeezing his nipples. It makes me wet. I’ve located my trusty vibrator. I use it on the highest setting. It makes me come fast and hard. I log into my OkCupid account to see if it is still active. It is.
7 p.m.:
I do yoga and get really turned on during cat/cow. I tell myself it’s okay and take a shower. I masturbate in the shower while leaning against the tile. I wish I had a portable showerhead.


4 a.m. Insomnia. Too much wine last night and there is a thunderstorm. Thunderstorms make me want to have slow, hard sex … or, right now, at least pretend to on my iPhone or computer. I rub the laptop mouse with my middle finger and check my e-mail. Nothing. I check my phone. Nope. Dammit. Where are they? I remind myself it is 4 a.m. in Texas, 2 a.m. in Alaska, and 5 a.m. in New York. Fair. I masturbate and come, but not very hard. I stare at the ceiling for another hour or so, checking my computer screen regularly just to make sure, and then fall back asleep.
8 a.m.
It’s still raining. I make coffee, then do yoga. I’m all sweaty. I don’t masturbate in the shower this time, because I’ve noticed that the hot water has been running out fast. I get out and lie down on my bed in my towel. I fold open half of it and touch my exposed nipple. I reach for my vibrator and use it very slowly, changing the settings every now and then. I come so hard that I feel like I need a nap.
9:30 a.m.
I check my e-mail. Ex-Boyfriend has somehow managed to photograph his penis and e-mail it to me. He says he’s hard and thinking about me and that he wants to suck on my nipples and bury his face in my butt. I tell him I love his penis and that I want it everywhere. I really should get a phone number for him. I tell him it’s hard to masturbate and type. He tells me not to masturbate, to wait till later. He just wants me to type naughty thoughts to him. I do. I can’t not masturbate. I tell him I have to come. He says he wishes he could make me. We sign off and I masturbate again with my vibrator and my hand. I have two orgasms. I want to spend all day, even though I have other things to do. I’m hungry. I get dressed and make some eggs.

Totals: Five acts of masturbation, two sexual fantasies without masturbation, three cyber-sex sessions with masturbation, one cyber sex session without masturbation, one sext session with masturbation.

Sex Diary: The Austin Writer With No Car