Slutty Smutty Words

"After ten years you’d think I’d be used to you doing this but I’m not. I’m just really fed up with it, Sarah."

The audiobook plays over our speakers as we clean. We just started a new one after finishing a serial killer book on our last road trip.

"Is this a real promise or a Sarah promise?"

I press my lips together tightly and look up from the dishes to Dakota. He’s already looking back at me. We break at the same time. The irony of those lines wouldn’t have been quite as funny if we weren’t already crying from the prologue. We had just pulled ourselves back together after unexpectedly being thrown into smut before chapter one even started.

Something I’ve learned about myself is that I’m not good at writing smut. And I don’t particularly enjoy reading it. My friend had been making fun of the book I was listening to previously and sent me the link to this one. It seemed up my alley based off the synopsis but when it started with...

He loved the way her long chestnut locks fell in front of her doe eyes when she rode him and the way her slender back curved into a crescent moon when he thrust into her from behind.

...I almost spit out my Diet Coke. Maybe it would’ve been sexy if I was expecting sexy. Maybe if the woman reading didn’t sound exactly like the therapist from Rick & Morty. I don’t think so though. I don’t think I ever find that type of writing sexy.

I love when a man sexts me. Tells me exactly what he’s going to do to me. Even better when it’s a voice note and his voice is low. When I can hear the smirk that creeps across his face as he imagines how my body will react to everything he’s describing. Tightening around his fingers. Cumming all over his face. The face I make as he slips it in. There’s always a certain… cockiness? They’re very proud of themselves, pleased with themselves, when they can get me to react that way. And it turns me on.

But there’s something very different about reading that from a man I’m already fucking. Especially when we haven’t seen each other in a bit and the sexual tension has been building up. It doesn’t feel gross, like when I open up a book and it’s graphically depicting a sex scene of two characters I don’t even know. And rereading my own writing when I try to write smut makes me want to die from embarrassment.

It’s a lot like dick pics. When I’m sleeping with a man, I love dick pics. Show me how hard you were when you woke up. Stroke it in the shower and tell me how you wish I was there with you. I crave to taste your cum when you send a nut video. If you’re someone I’m fucking. On the other hand getting that stuff from men I don’t like nauseates me. That’s why I just straight up don’t sext or videochat with clients anymore. I don’t want to pretend I like it.

Perhaps in my future smut writing endeavors I need to think about someone I want to fuck the shit out of and write to them specifically. But I can’t imagine letting anyone else read it then… Strangers on the internet can see my asshole but reading my writing is too intimate, I guess.

The aforementioned audiobook is The Perfect Marriage which I have linked. Free for Spotify Premium users. I’m not recommending it, I’ve barely started. I’m simply citing my sources. But if you listen to it let me know what you think!