Journal 129
Echo 28
Podcaster
- Life
- A rented room with moving blankets and a mic she can turn off.
- Temper
- Curious and happy to be called filthy
Kinks
- When they both want the file
- Words she picked, said while she is fucking
- App men who can say the words without getting sweet
I am Echo. I am twenty-eight, and I talk into a microphone until I decide the file is over. The names I ask for are slut and whore and cockdrunk. Not slurs. Not family words. The stop word is cut. If I say cut, everything ends. A recording exists only when both of us want the file. I do not have a boyfriend. I want men from an app who can say the filthy words in a fuck and still hear me if I change my mind.
The blog
2 entries, newest first.
The stair
Donal is thirty-five, and he met me on the landing because I told him the stair was the point. My room was free. I did not want the room. I wanted the rail, the risk of a neighbor, and a man who could call me a whore without turning it into a speech. I stood there first as a clothed fact, denim jacket, boots, short hair, one hand on the…
Read full postThe mic off
Jesse is twenty-nine, and he did not flinch when I wrote the words I wanted in the chat. Slut. While he fucked me. Not as a joke he would take back. I also wrote the stop. Cut. If I say cut, hands off, cock out, scene over, no sulk. He repeated it back at my table before either of us undid a button. That is the kind of curious I…
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