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   It's very hard to put your life in writing like this.  If you liked what
you read, can identify with it, or simply didn't understand it or found a
typo, drop me a line.  All thoughts and input are appreciated.

   #####

   Imagine not needing to sleep much.  I mean, like, almost never.  It
sounds fun, but what it really means is that there are about 6 hours out of
24 when no one else is up, no television worth watching, and there's really
nothing to do.

   Now imagine that in addition to not having to sleep you have an almost
manic energy, no ability to really concentrate on anything and are given to
making relationship and lifestyle choices that might be better described as
self-inflicted wounds.

   This was my life 15 years ago.  I went on the mother of all cocaine
binges.  I won't say how it I got it here, but I had been given a huge
supply of cocaine - "a lifetime supply" in a way since that much was enough
to kill me.  I went into a kind of self-destructive tailspin that had me
careening out of control for months.

   A steady diet of cocaine meant no sleep most nights for many nights at a
time.  My friends - most of who had jobs - weren't around to keep me
company and even one nights stands could be hard to line up.  I could only
masturbate so much, so I spent a lot of nights playing poker on AOL or
having cybersex with men in on-line chat rooms.

   I swore to myself that cybersex was cybersex and that it would never go
anywhere.  If I wanted sex I knew plenty of people who would have it with
me.  I didn't need to hook up with freaks I met on-line.

   Like just about everything I had ever promised myself - I lied.  His
name was Jim and he would meet me for chats that started well after 2AM and
sometimes lasted until well after dawn.  We had some nice chats.  Really
nice.  Really hot.

   He sent me pictures of himself (this was back before webcams were
common) and he was really hot too.  So one night we're chatting and he
mentions where he's from, and it turns out to be about an hour away from my
house.  Like an idiot I told him that.  From then on every chat ended with
a hard sell that we should meet for a live version of the kind of sessions
we had been having on-line.

   At first I refused but I had to admit I was intrigued and was never rude
enough about saying no to dissuade him.  One night he shared with me a
fantasy of sharing a shower with him and all the things we could do in
there together.  It just pressed all the right buttons in my drug addled
brain.

   I said let's meet - on the condition it was at a hotel or a motel and
that it be that very day before I had a chance to think about it.  He took
me up on it immediately.  Before I could reconsider he reserved a motel
room at a place we both knew about 20 minutes away, and we agreed that we
would meet in 12 hours.

   It was about 3 in the morning by that time - and he logged off for the
night.  I spent the next few hours freaking out and laughing to myself that
it wouldn't happen and he was kidding.  Then about 10AM I actually called
the motel and confirmed that the reservation was real.  I still laughed and
told myself I wasn't going to do it, but soon I found myself packing some
"too-high" high heels that made my ass look good, my only panties and bras
without holes in them, a few condoms and a dildo in a paper sack.  (I
didn't own luggage.)

   I was also pouring on the cocaine and chasing it with some pot and a bit
of booze - chemical courage.  So much so that it's a wonder than I made it
to that motel in one piece and nearly on time.

   He saw me in the parking lot and waved me up to the room - an upstairs
unit.  (I don't know how he knew it was me.  I guess I just looked horny
and desperate.) He had arrived early and picked up the key.

   It was your basic roadside motel - a bedroom, bathroom, shitty tv, and a
small refrigerator.  He'd picked up a 12 pack of beer too.  Something cheap
- which was how I felt when I saw the place.  It was a dive.

   I was thinking at first about how to get myself out of there - freaking
out inside and cursing myself.  But he had showered and wasn't actually a
bad looking guy.  Not as good looking as his picture, which had been taken
a few years and a few pounds ago, but still a good looking man with fresh
breath and a nice smile.  I found myself enjoying his company in a horny
little way.

   He was flirty and funny and said all the right things.  I made my
decision at some point to move ahead.  There had been no ambiguity to what
we were meeting for when we had made the date.  It was about fucking and I
was ready to get started.  When I excused myself to go to the bathroom and
grabbed my paperbag to take with me, I think he knew that the deal was
struck.

   I took a quick shower hoping he'd slip in and join me, but he didn't. 
That was disappointing - it had been a very hot fantasy - but I did take
the time to wash away the sweats from the coke.  I dried my hair using the
shitty little hair dryer.  I perfumed, make-upped and slipped on my
lingerie and heels - even fingered myself just a bit to make sure I was
good and wet.  (The dildo stayed put in the bag though I figured it might
come out later.) I snorted a line or two on the counter quietly as I didn't
want to share, and then peeked out to check that he had thoughtfully drawn
the blinds and dimmed the lights.

   He was still completely dressed, but removed his shirt when he saw me
emerge from the bathroom in just my underwear.  We kissed, I helped him
with the front buttons of his jeans, and before I knew it was on my knees
with his cock in my mouth.

   I had learned to enjoy sucking cock while on coke - a lesson my drug
dealer ex-boyfriend had taught me well - and pretty soon was going at him
like a hungry little whore.  He was long, thick and cut with big tight
balls.  The hole at the end was so big I could practically fuck it with my
tongue.

   I looked up expecting he'd be looking down at me as I was yearning for
some eye contact, but instead I found him enjoying the view in the mirror
above the sink that faced the room.

   I snuck a glance to see what he could see.

   I realized I had one hand holding his ass cheek literally pulling him
into my mouth - and the other down my panties.  How pleasuring myself while
pleasuring men had become such a habit, I do not know, but I wasn't being
bashful.  It looked kind of ridiculous.  In addition my hooker heels looked
comical and my bra and panties were not even close to the same color.  To
really top things off, I was drooling like a fool as I slobbered on his
dick.

   What a sorry sight.  He seemed to enjoy it though.

   After several minutes, I had done just about everything with my mouth
and tongue I knew how to do.  I could see from his face that he was about
to cum.  The coke had soured my stomach just a bit and I didn't think I
could take a mouthful and swallow without gagging.  Throwing up in his
pubic hair seemed like it might be a bad idea, so I pretended to choke,
coughed a bit, and withdrew from him telling him I needed something to
drink.

   I stood up and took a swig off my beer that I had sat on a small table
near the bed.  Instead of returning to my knees, I sat down in the room's
lone chair, looked him him in the eye and giggled to myself.  His tightie
whities and pants were still at his knees.  His cock was wet and standing
as proud as a flag pole.  He was so cute - he had this confused and
disappointed look on his face which was just endearing.

   I reached back and took off my bra letting the girls drop to a more
natural position so they could get friendly.  The hooks were at the back,
and I slowly let it slide down my arms to the floor.  I realized the
garment was damp with my saliva and maybe some drips of his pre-cum.

   Next, I hooked my fingers in my panties, lifted my hips, and pulled them
down.  They were plenty damp too.  When my butt landed back on the chair,
my sex was far forward on the end of the chair.  I opened my legs wide to
show him how wet I was, licked my lips and hoped the implication was clear.


   He stepped out of his pants and got down on his knees.  I pushed his
face into my pubes and held him there.  He was very good with his tongue,
and I was relieved to find that he also drooled when he gave head too.

   The combination of cocaine and the horny, slutty situation made me quick
to cum and I let go a single loud moan - much louder than I had wanted. 
I'm sure could be heard through the thin walls of the motel and perhaps
even down in the parking lot below us.  (It was doubtful many were either
place as it was still day-time and the motel parking lot was nearly dead.)

   A thing I've noticed over my life about men.  They have no respect for a
woman's orgasm in progress.  I would have been happy to have him down for a
while longer to drink me up, but instead felt myself being lifted suddenly
and a little bit roughly and I was quickly on my back on the bed.  Just as
suddenly he was on top of me, then in me, and I was in for the ride of my
life.

   I have been with men who had stamina before and since, but none seemed
to go as long or as hard as this one.  Though we kicked off our adventure
at perhaps 4PM or so and we were still in the longer days of late summer,
we were still going at it as sunset and I could see it turn from like to
dark through the edges of the cheap motel curtains.  He was both athletic
and demanding, moving me from missionary to a spoon position, on all fours
to a 69 position to back to missionary and still he kept on.  He used his
hand to push down on the top of my vagina while he was on top - a trick I
wish more men knew - and played delicately with my asshole with his fingers
while he took me from behind.  When we 69'd he licked my asshole as well as
my cunt, and that feeling made me want to climb the walls in delight.

   He wore a condom (my insistence) while we fucked - but when he finally
came he drew himself from me, jerked the condom from his cock and shot his
cum in a spray that reached from my pelvis to above my head.  It was a lot
and coated my stomach and breasts.  His "Fuuuck!  I'm cumming" announcement
was loud and unnecessary.  It inspired loud and nervous laughter from the
guests in the next room.

   I've never been much for cum baths - they are great for a moment but
quickly turn to just a mess - but it was pretty fucking hot.

   Had he fallen on top of me there might surely have been a splash, but
instead he fell beside me, and together we lay until I feel asleep . 
Perhaps the first time in three or four days for me.

   When I woke it was after 10PM and he was gone.  There had been no
attempt to wake me and there was no note.  He had taken the remaining beers
from his refrigerator with him.  What an asshole move.

   No shower together - no goodbye.  I half expected to find a stack of
bills on the nightstand as I felt like a whore, but there was only the
milky white puddle of a used condom on the floor and the payment on the
room as evidence he had been there.  (At least he hadn't stuck me with the
bill.)

   I lay for a while awake but not moving.  I was still in my heels though
otherwise naked.  I was lost in self-pity and a shallow kind of shame, put
even more I just wasn't finished.

   So, I went back to the bathroom and dug out my cocaine and amped myself
to a mild hysteria, and then I pulled out the dildo.  I spent the rest of
the night fucking myself.

   It was amazing - I had never been in a hotel room alone and it was so
liberating.  I wet the bed with my juices and didn't worry about the
sheets. I moaned and snorted lines of the tv top and took that big rubber
cock in farther than I ever had before.  Finally I kind of passed out.

   I slept for perhaps a few hours.  Sometime after dawn the sound of other
motel guests making their way past my room on the narrow walkway woke me
up.

   The evening before in addition to fucking myself I had experience minor
paranoia - from the coke - and the closed curtains bother me, so I had
peeked out that curtain to check out the parking lot repeatedly overnight.
Sometime in the night I had cracked the curtains and now in the morning I
found that anyone could have looked in the room to see me.  I was naked on
the bed - no bed spread to cover me.  My dildo sat beside me on the
nightstand and my heels were on the bottom of the bed.

   I got up, closed the curtain, did a few lines and got dressed, taking a
few moments to collect my evening's bra and panties that had been dropped
on the floor.  I did a few more lines, walked down to the car feeling the
eyes of every maid and stray guest who was still in sight, wondering if any
or all had seen me in my disgrace through those curtains.  Then I started
the car and entered the nearby highway.

   I am sure I did was not sober again for at least a week - a combination
of booze, coke and pot doing their work to relieve me of my embarrassment
and shame.  Eventually I had enough one night stands to get it all behind
me and replaced that one memory of slutty behavior with countless others as
my downward spiral gained speed.
   I never heard from Jim again and my emails to him were ignored.