Most would think it was a damn shame that my mind was so fucking filthy. I daydreamed about sex and even lusted for anal sex. I plain ole’ loved men screwing my brains out. Sometimes, I wondered why I thought of sex all day and all night. As I lived day by day, I looked at different men and wondered how it would feel for them to fuck me. I didn’t care if he was short, tall, or fat. I love a hard, throbbing cock. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t discriminate. I loved women, too. It felt good when a woman went down on my fine ass because a woman really knows how to satisfy another woman. A woman knew what she wanted done to her body, and she applies it to the other woman. I really was addicted.
You wouldn’t believe some of the things I had been put through over the years. My obsession with sex started out with wanting to be loved, and then it ended up being a game. The truth was I should have been playing with other teenagers instead of worrying about how it felt to have a man’s hard cock deep up inside my sweet, wet pussy. It could be difficult trying to understand my behavior and actions. That’s because my needs would vary from time to time as my sexual desires and ambitions changed. My behavior varied, depending on the strength and intensity of that need, the nature of my goal to have sex, and the availability of socially approved outlets for satisfying that need. The withdrawal from sex I experienced was a retreat from the situations in which I felt frustrated and unable to adjust. My aloofness was a screen to hide deep-seated feelings of inferiority.
To be happy with myself, I had to have a favorable self-concept, which meant I must see myself as a worthwhile person. At that time, I couldn’t see it. I was a real bitch growing up. I used my body to get money but I didn’t regret doing it because I loved SEX. Plus, it was all about them dollars. My early childhood sexual behavior was instilled in me and that’s what I was stuck with. It was hard becoming who I am today. My life was headed down the wrong path, but I managed to get my priorities straight. When you are out in the world alone, you have no choice but to go up.
I loved my job. I was good at what I did professionally. The success was a blessing and the pristine reputation was flattering. Who would have thought I would have come being a poor, country girl to becoming a wealthy, black woman? I had plenty of luxurious things that no one else in my family had. There were different cars, houses, and much more. You better believe that a bitch had a lot to show. I made my money and used it like a pimp with his whores.
Professionally, I was known as Dr. Torey Bailey, a psychologist. I had skin of caramel, one hundred and fifty pounds with light brown eyes, and jet black hair. I was thirty-five years old. Being single most of the time allowed me to express my sexual desires and needs. There was plenty of family around to love me, but I needed more to make me happy. I wanted someone who could keep up with my high sex drive.
I was wild and I had no man to tame me, but it made me think. Could I really be tamed? Hell no. I was looking for love, but in all the wrong places. I was all out screwing. A lot of people knew hoe I worked my ass. People didn’t understand me at all. They just labeled me as a whore. My family tried to talk to me about the things I did but I didn’t want to hear that shit because none of them supported me, except for my grandparents, I listened to them. My mother was a Radiology Technician and my dad was a Cardiology Doctor. Everyone knew I was a spoiled brat. Most of my friends said that my family was wealthy and everyone hung around because they just knew we had lost of cash. They said that stupid shit because we owned a four-bedroom house with a three car garage and we lived in the white folk’s neighborhood. They could have it too. All they had to do was get out and get it. Most of my family didn’t work and the other half was on welfare. My parents taught us to depend on ourselves. We were taught to make our own money. My advice was to stop hating and get like us.
It was hard trying to succeed but I fucking made it. My friends couldn’t believe the things I did. I had three cars and I drove one. I gage the others to my parents. There were two houses. I let my mother’s parents and father’s parents live in them. I was just out there. In a way, I didn’t give a fuck. They were happy and that’s all that matters. My friends thought it was dumb to buy houses and cars just to let my family have it. One thing they failed to realize, it was all in my name.
After high school, I decided to attend Tennessee State University. My major was Psychology. It was boring as hell but that’s what I wanted to do. I either did that or my parents would worry the hell out of me about getting into their profession. I wanted to be on my own without my parents being involved in everything. It’s true . I had gotten a little wild during my college years. Who didn’t? I did everything under the sun. It was a lot of influence in college and it sure as hell was hard not doing it. It seem like all my new and old friends did some type of drug. From popping pills to smoking weed, and whatever in the hell else. We did it all.
As the time, I had a roommate named Lisa. She was from California and her major was Criminal Justice. She was a light skinned girl with freckles on her face. Lisa was well build and crazy. She was just as wild as I was, but that’s how we got along. We partied almost every night. Some nights we drunk so much liquor that we couldn’t go to class. Other nights we attended sex parties and fucked like there was no tomorrow. I don’t see how we made it through college. The good part was we graduated.
Even though, I was a professional psychologist, I still had to see a psychologist of my own once a week. After all the things that happened. I was feeling crazier than a mutherfucker. Most of my coworkers thought I was nuts. I wasn’t crazy, just confused. I didn’t know how to deal with all the emotions I felt. So, I did what cowards did and took the easy route out.