What I Am

I used him.

I used him to remind me why I am here.
I used him to remind me why I do what I do.
I used him to remind me what I am.

I let him slide his fingers up into my short shorts and finger me in the wide open. I didn’t hesitate when he undid those shorts and turned me around over the car and yanked them down to the ground. I let him push me down and bend me over. I didn’t stop him when I heard him undo his pants or when I felt his rock hard cock brush up against my ass. I only smiled when he rammed his cock into me out there in the wide open, in front of the world going by.

I used him to remind me why I am here.
I used him to remind me why I do what I do.
I used him to remind me what I am.

The control was mine when I climbed on top of him and rocked to the rhythm I needed. I let my head fall back and I allowed myself to slip back into the role that fits me so well. I used him to take me where I belonged. I used his cock to ground me and make me remember. I didn’t kiss him, didn’t meet his gaze, pushed away his hands. This was for me. To remind me. I let the pleasure swell through me, riding it, remembering the reasons. And when I came it was just for me. I let it bring me back to where I need to be. I am a slut. A whore. A secret.

This is why I am here.
This is why I do what I do.
This is what I am.