The days following Y’s departure from my life passed in a sticky blur.
Stinging from the hurt, I went out and did what I knew best: I fucked.
I picked up logger-types from the local pub. Sex in the front seat of a Ford F-150 was complicated. Fingers pulling at my shirt, my hands fumbling with belt buckles, I couldn’t seem to fill myself with enough cock so I went from guy to guy. I was angry at Y; I was hurt and wanting to prove to her, to myself that I didn’t need her. That any man in town would want me and that I could fuck anyone, at any time.
That is just what I did.
I might have even fucked some guys more than once. I made up for lost time while involved in that monogamous relationship. I fucked nearly 50 guys in the first three weeks after Y left me. Some of them were really great. Others just looked great. Some I didn’t even care to ask their names. I just wanted dick and I wanted a lot of it.
It’s precisely what I got.
I fucked them all, and I still hurt from Y’s betrayal.
Sexual Exploits of a Ravenous Woman 
Its been a while since you’ve posted – I hope you are doing ok.
Everyone copes in their own way….