Men pay no attention to me in public. I am 54 and I am invisible. Except when I go on Snapchat. Snapchat is a smart phone app that allows people to exchange photos and chat. Many Snapchat users use the app as foreplay for hooking up or for virtual hookups.

I get a thrill out of sharing naked photographs of myself and receiving the same from men. I don’t believe that all cocks look alike and I’m a cock worshipper. When men see photos of my breasts and my hairy cunt, they go apeshit. I am no longer invisible.

I can’t share pics of my ass because I don’t have a mirror long enough to show it and I’m not a contortionist or twenty years old so I can’t make my body twist enough to get a photo of my derriere, to much disappointment. It’s a fine bum too.

I wrote smut for a decade and still enjoy reading erotic stories from time to time. My conversations on Snapchat remind me of erotica, albeit with photographs. I enjoy getting men to confess their darkest, most secret taboo fantasies and to tell them mine. Some men understand that these are only fantasies and I have no intention of meeting them in real life to make them come true, while others are equally aroused by the fantasy and are fun to play with on the app.

I have tried other apps over the years, such as Tinder, and online sites, such as OK Cupid, but they are not as fun for me. Tinder always crashes on my Android (something went wrong) and OKC just results in conversations that fizzle because I have nothing in common with married men who live in the burbs and are cheating on their wives. I have also tried a women-only app called For Her, but while a lot of women clicked the heart icon, no one made a move.

The men on Snapchat are typically in their 20s, occasionally older and some of them are likely married in a so-called monogamous relationship, but Snapchat is just for the moment and I don’t get into conversations about barbecuing or cottages or sports.

I enjoy men of all ages. The men in their 20s often have strange misconceptions about my age. They assume they will be able to fuck me without a condom (nut inside a MILF) or they have mommy fantasies, which I can’t satisfy, since it’s not my own kink and I’m not really the mother type.

Men of colour that I have encountered want to know if I want to get fucked by a BBC (big black cock). If I was talking to someone in person I would tell them  I enjoy men of all races and ethnicities, and cock size is not important to me for penetration, but in the heat of the moment and wanting to get them off, I just say yes, and enjoy the photos of these massive dicks, tell them I’d love to suck on them and have them inside me.

On at least two occasions, Asian men have apologized for having small penises, but have countered by saying they are good with their hands and tongues. For them I explain that cock size isn’t an issue for me, that I don’t orgasm from penetration and that in fact it is rare for women to orgasm from penetration. That I love a good tongue licking on my clit while being fingered. I fucked one of these guys last year after snapchatting for  a few hours. He was very good with his tongue and fingers. And yes, he had a small cock, but it grew nicely in my mouth, so that reassured him.

I deactivated my account when I become overwhelmed by the number of messages I receive or by the clinginess of some of the guys I’ve chatted with. There’s something unreal about the experience for me. I see these men as characters rather than as actual  human beings. After we’ve exchanged some filthy fantasies and I’ve moaned their name on video while masturbating for them, I am no longer interested in them. I block them if they send me too many messages or if they suddenly get nasty because I won’t meet. I let them know up front that I rarely meet, but they still hope. Even men in other cities, such as Toronto or Montreal, beg me to come fuck them. Several men have offered me money.

What happens to me during this process is that I feel cold and remote. I don’t respect myself as a person. Not because I’m an old broad baring my naked body for a bunch of horny men, but because I stop caring about people and am just turned on by fantasies and body parts. It isn’t an intimate experience. It satisfies my little head for a moment, but that’s it. In the end, it’s hollow.

But I’ll likely reactivate my account again. Snapchat is devious. There’s a 30-day waiting period before the account is closed. Inevitably I’ll end up back on there again before my account is shut down, vibe in one hand, phone in the other. I’ll return to Snapchat after dissatisfying experiences of sitting beside a gorgeous and intelligent person at a poetry reading, wishing that we could get to know one another better, maybe have a drink and then go to bed, only to have them not even notice I’m in the room. At least on Snapchat I’m not invisible. Come find me, my userid is ottawamandy.

Amanda Earl is a Canadian polyamorous poetess, editor, publisher, fiction writer, and visual poet. She’s the managing editor of Bywords.ca and the fallen angel of AngelHousePress. A World of Yes (DevilHouse, 2015) is about a women who falls asleep during her 35th birthday party and misses an orgy. Kiki (Chaudiere Books, 2014) is a series of long poems that celebrate the creative and ribald times of Paris between the Wars, and Coming Together Presents Amanda Earl (Coming Together, 2014) is a collection of short, filthy tales. More info is available at AmandaEarl.com or connect with Amanda on Twitter @KikiFolle.

Image by RS.