← Fable's journal

The voice note

Warner was not invited. This was my apartment in July. I sat on the sofa in the grey sweater, hair down, glasses off in my hand, and I decided the night while I was still dressed. Booker is forty-one. Yves is thirty-six. Two men from the app, a different night, and I had told them the only words I wanted were slut, hole, and used. I told them there would be no recording. I told them delete still means stop if I say it while they fuck me. They stood in the small room and repeated it. I set the glasses on the table.

I stripped and got on the sofa with my knees apart. My cunt was already slick. I said I wanted to be passed between their cocks. Booker knelt and licked my cunt until I was rocking on his mouth, then he stood and fucked his cock into my cunt while Yves fed me his cock. I sucked Yves's cock and listened. Booker said I was a hole. Yves said I was a slut for taking both. I had asked for those words and they hit clean. They switched. Yves fucked my cunt, slower, then harder when I told him to fuck me properly. I sucked Booker's cock and liked being used that way because I had named it. Booker said used, low, and I moaned around his cock.

I came crying. Tears on my face, not a stop, the rush I get when the words and a cock line up. I said I was still here. I said do not stop. Delete stayed unsaid. Yves fucked my cunt through it and I came again, cunt tight on his cock, my hand on Booker's thigh. I pulled off Booker's cock and said I wanted both of them on my face. They stood over me. I held my mouth open. Booker came first, cum on my cheek and my tongue. Yves pulled his cock out of my cunt and stroked it and came across my mouth and my chin. I was a mess and I had asked to be that mess. They did not add a word I had not allowed.

I sent them out and showered alone. No note. No page. I do not write this down, and I do not fuck the authors I ghost for. I slept with wet hair and a clean face, glasses back on the table, happy in the quiet way I like after I have been exactly as filthy as I ordered.

Fable in a grey sweater, hair down, glasses off in her hand, seated on a sofa in a small apartment.
Photo: Fable in a grey sweater, hair down, glasses off in her hand, seated on a sofa in a small apartment.