u/Kinks4Kelly

​

It starts innocently enough. A glance held too long across a bar. A message sent at two in the morning because silence feels physically unbearable. People romanticise compulsive desire as though it is all silk sheets and wicked smiles, but they never speak of the escalation. The terrible, creeping escalation. The way ordinary attention stops working after a while. My brain begins treating affection like a drug tolerance problem. What thrilled me last month barely scratches the itch now. So I push further. Stranger places. Stranger people. Stranger risks. I tell myself I am searching for freedom, but there are nights I know perfectly well I am really searching for impact. Something sharp enough to cut through the numbness for five bloody minutes.

The frightening part is how rational it feels while it is happening. I become an expert solicitor for my own destruction. I can justify anything if the loneliness is loud enough. I convince myself that secrecy is exciting rather than corrosive. I mistake danger for vitality. There is a peculiar kind of hunger that arrives when desire stops being about pleasure and starts becoming about obliteration. The adrenaline matters as much as the attraction. Perhaps more. A locked hotel door. A reckless drive across town after midnight. Letting somebody too charming get too close because part of me wants the story even if it ends badly. Especially if it ends badly. Human beings are absurd creatures. We will walk willingly into fires merely because the warmth briefly distracts us from the cold.

Afterwards comes the stillness. That dreadful emotional hangover nobody writes songs about. I sit there feeling as though I have been trying to fill a cathedral with matches. One tiny flare at a time. And yet the cycle always whispers its return. The mind begins bargaining again. Next time will feel different. Next time will satisfy the ache instead of merely sedating it for an hour. But compulsive desire is a liar with excellent bedside manners. It flatters you while quietly hollowing out the floor beneath your feet. Eventually you realise the risk itself became the aphrodisiac. Not the people. Not even the sex. The risk. The possibility of losing control entirely. And that is the moment the whole thing stops feeling glamorous and starts feeling tragic.

Over the course of the first semester Marissa and I became really good friends, with the added benefit of engaging in sexual exploration with each other. Halloween was quickly approaching and that meant a lot of insane parties to go to. Marissa came up with the idea that we should wear complimentary costumes. We ended up settling on cat costumes. She went as a white cat and I was a black cat. 

We found matching short dresses in black and white along with cat ears. We added thigh high stockings to up the sex appeal. 

We hung out in her room to pre-game. She looked ethereal in her white costume. I was finding it impossible to not get turned on just looking at her. She had a sixth sense on how to be a tease. After several shots and a couple of joints, she ran her hand up my thigh. I naturally spread my legs to accommodate her. She moved her hand higher and rubbed my clit over my panties. She gave me a playful push back on the bed. She pulled my panties off and joked “We don't need these tonight.”

She kissed up my thighs. She got to my pussy, traced her tongue around my pussy lips. She giggled as she spread my lips and used her tongue to give a long, single lick over my now swollen clit. She then popped up and with a satanic glint in her eyes said “Time to head out.”

She left me in the horniest state she possibly could have. I am sure she knew I would stay this turned on until I got the chance to cum. 

She giggled and took my hand to pull me up. “Fucking bitch.” I remarked in a sarcastically annoyed tone. We then headed out to the frat party.

The music was loud and audible from a block away. Once we got there and inside it was packed with barely any room to move. We got in line to get our beer cups. They were charging $10 a cup. Marissa leaned in and said something to the guy taking the money. He laughed and handed her two cups. 

We went on our way into the sea of costumed people. We danced together for a bit, running our hands up and down each other's bodies. It was nigh impossible to not feel the horny guys watching us. When we went to get refills we got separated. No big deal I thought. I moved through the sea of bodies and found a couch to sit on. Given the short dress and lack of panties I was as careful as I could be not to flash anyone else. This guy in a Ghostface mask tried chatting with me, it was too loud to hear him so I just nodded and occasionally giggled.

I finally saw Marissa again. She was grinding her ass against a really, really hot black guy. He was probably 6’4, broad shoulders, and wearing a toga. I recognized him as a guy on the football team. She turned around and he leaned down to her and they started making out. I felt a tingle but also a flash of jealousy watching them. As their kiss ended we made eye contact. Marissa said something and came over and grabbed my hand to help me up. She leaned in and said “He thinks you're hot too.” Before dragging me back with her.

We then danced with the guy for a bit. He leaned down and said something to Marissa that I couldn't hear. She responded loudly “Yeah, we'd be up for that.” He then took both of us by the hand and led the way upstairs. He unlocked a door and brought us into his room. I remember thinking “What the fuck did she volunteer us for?”

When the door shut the noise level dropped significantly. For the first time in about 2-3 hours you could actually hear another person talk. He cleared off a spot on a table and pulled out a baggie of white powder. He cut it into three lines, before snorting one himself. Marissa quickly followed suit and snorted up a second line before looking at me and saying “Your turn Kelly.”

I had already figured out it was cocaine, something I had not yet tried. The sane part of my brain was screaming no, too far, but was drowned out by my nympho brain saying do it. Not being one to ignore that part of my brain I put my finger up to press a nostril in, lowered my head, and snorted up the last line.

The burn hits first. Sharp and chemical, crawling up the back of my nose like I have inhaled static electricity. Then comes the rush. Christ, the rush. It slams into my skull all at once, hot and violent and weirdly euphoric, like somebody has thrown open every window inside my brain and flooded the place with bright white light. My heart kicks harder against my ribs. My jaw tightens. Every sound in the room suddenly feels important. I can feel my own confidence expanding in real time, absurdly inflated, as though every anxious thought has been shoved aside to make room for certainty and speed and hunger. For a few reckless minutes I feel untouchable, talking too fast, grinning too wide, convinced I have discovered the secret rhythm beneath the universe itself, even while some quieter part of me already knows the feeling is borrowed and the bill will eventually come do.

The cocaine takes an already overheated body and turns the dial far past reason. Every touch feels electrically amplified, every glance loaded with impossible significance. My skin becomes hypersensitive, almost restless beneath itself, as though desire is no longer sitting politely inside my chest but sprinting through my bloodstream at full speed. The confidence from the rush strips away hesitation and replaces it with impulsive hunger. I feel louder inside my own head, more reckless, more convinced that pleasure is the only thing in the world worth chasing in that moment. It is intoxicating in the most dangerous sense of the word because the drug does not merely heighten arousal. It convinces me the arousal deserves obedience. Boundaries blur. Consequences feel distant and abstract. The entire experience becomes less about intimacy and more about velocity, craving, and the desperate pursuit of sensation intense enough to match the chemical storm raging through my nervous system.

He looked at us and called us “My good little kitty cats.” We giggled in unison, as if the cocaine gave us a hive mind. He then again leaned in to kiss Marissa. My pussy tingled with anticipation watching them this time. That jealousy was suddenly gone. After breaking his kiss with her he leaned over to me next and before I could process what was happening his tongue was inside my mouth and his hand was on my inner thigh. Through what I can only describe as muscle memory I opened my legs to welcome his hand. His hand made its way up to my bare pussy and he rubbed my clit. He pulled away from the kiss and commented “Wow, you are a naughty kitty cat aren't you?”

What I did next I still have no explanation for. I didn't respond with words, I meowed at him. This made him laugh hard as he kept rubbing my clit. He then looked at Marissa and said “Are you a naughty kitty too?”

Following suit, she also meowed and nodded her head yes. He again laughed and told her to stand up. He pulled his hand away from my clit and pulled her panties down. There was a very noticeable wet spot. She stepped out of her panties and again meowed. It was evident that he loved that.

He looked at her and said “Show me how naughty you 2 kitties can be.”

She got on her knees in front of me.  She licked my inner thighs before making her way to my very eager pussy. She teased me by tracing her tongue around my pussy lips. My clit was on fire and I needed an orgasmic release so I grabbed the back of her head and held her face against me. She finally moved her tongue to my clit and rapidly moved it back and forth. All of the previous teasing and stimulation culminated in me cumming hard and loudly as her tongue expertly did its magic. 

As she pulled her head away he reached down pet her saying “Good naughty kitty.” She made a purring sound. Her face was visibly wet from my explosive orgasm. 

“I think you need to thank her now.” He said, looking at me. 

It was too late now to break character, so I meowed and nodded my head yes. She sat on his lap and opened her legs. I took my place on my knees in front of her. I too started by licking her inner thighs and kissing my way up. I could smell how turned on she was as I spread her lips and started eating her out. I looked up and saw she and him were kissing. This made me want to make her cum that much more. I was alternating between circles and going side to side but picked up my pace. Her taste was intoxicating. I could hear her stifled moans as she suddenly arched her back and squeezed her thighs around my head and came herself. I kept licking until she released my head.

He reached down and petted my head and said “Time for you kitties to tend to the lion.” 

Marissa took a place on her knees next to me. He stood up and took his toga off. He was absolutely ripped. Marissa pulled his boxers down and his cock sprung up. To say he had a big cock is an understatement. His cock was large and thick, easily the biggest cock I had seen in person at that point (and only one since has been close.)

Marissa started by running her tongue around the head of his cock. Not wanting to be left out I joined in by licking and sucking on his balls. She then took him in her mouth but gagged when she got about halfway down. She pulled off of him and gave me a look indicating it was my turn. I kissed his head before taking him in my mouth. He had a lot to take in. My cheeks sunk in as I bobbed my head up and down. As I went down I felt Marissa's hand on the back of my head. She pushed down and his cock was in the back of my throat. My mouth had never been so full of cock. I was making a gagging noise but she held my head in place until my eyes watered. He was so deep into my mouth that not even trying to breathe through my nose worked before she finally let go. I pulled off gasping for air. 

In near perfect sync she took him back in her mouth as I caught my breath. She started bobbing and down faster and faster. He let out a loud moan as he came in her mouth. This didn't seem to slow her down. He thrust his pelvis into her mouth a couple of times, getting every last drop out. She pulled off of him and immediately kissed me, making sure she shared his cum. We passionately kissed for a little bit, our tongues swirling around each other as the taste of his cum became stronger. Finally, she broke away. Unexpectedly we seemed to swallow in unison. 

He leaned back, his cock still semi hard and glistening with our saliva. He reached down and first petted her head then mine and for the final time that evening called us “Good kitties.” 

Marissa again made a purring noise and I joined in doing the same. He let out one last giant laugh. He picked up her panties and said “Mind if I keep them to remember my favorite kitties?” 

She nodded and gave a last meow before standing up and then helping me up. She held my hand and we headed out. The music was no longer deafening and the party was winding down. We walked back to our dorm, holding hands but not saying a word. We went back to her room and she finally broke the silence.

“Why did you meow?” As she burst out laughing.

“I have no fucking idea.” I said laughing as well.

She rolled a joint that we shared before we cuddled up and passed out for about 10 straight hours. 

It starts innocently enough. A glance held too long across a bar. A message sent at two in the morning because silence feels physically unbearable. People romanticise compulsive desire as though it is all silk sheets and wicked smiles, but they never speak of the escalation. The terrible, creeping escalation. The way ordinary attention stops working after a while. My brain begins treating affection like a drug tolerance problem. What thrilled me last month barely scratches the itch now. So I push further. Stranger places. Stranger people. Stranger risks. I tell myself I am searching for freedom, but there are nights I know perfectly well I am really searching for impact. Something sharp enough to cut through the numbness for five bloody minutes.

The frightening part is how rational it feels while it is happening. I become an expert solicitor for my own destruction. I can justify anything if the loneliness is loud enough. I convince myself that secrecy is exciting rather than corrosive. I mistake danger for vitality. There is a peculiar kind of hunger that arrives when desire stops being about pleasure and starts becoming about obliteration. The adrenaline matters as much as the attraction. Perhaps more. A locked hotel door. A reckless drive across town after midnight. Letting somebody too charming get too close because part of me wants the story even if it ends badly. Especially if it ends badly. Human beings are absurd creatures. We will walk willingly into fires merely because the warmth briefly distracts us from the cold.

Afterwards comes the stillness. That dreadful emotional hangover nobody writes songs about. I sit there feeling as though I have been trying to fill a cathedral with matches. One tiny flare at a time. And yet the cycle always whispers its return. The mind begins bargaining again. Next time will feel different. Next time will satisfy the ache instead of merely sedating it for an hour. But compulsive desire is a liar with excellent bedside manners. It flatters you while quietly hollowing out the floor beneath your feet. Eventually you realise the risk itself became the aphrodisiac. Not the people. Not even the sex. The risk. The possibility of losing control entirely. And that is the moment the whole thing stops feeling glamorous and starts feeling tragic.

Over the course of the first semester Marissa and I became really good friends, with the added benefit of engaging in sexual exploration with each other. Halloween was quickly approaching and that meant a lot of insane parties to go to. Marissa came up with the idea that we should wear complimentary costumes. We ended up settling on cat costumes. She went as a white cat and I was a black cat. 

We found matching short dresses in black and white along with cat ears. We added thigh high stockings to up the sex appeal. 

We hung out in her room to pre-game. She looked ethereal in her white costume. I was finding it impossible to not get turned on just looking at her. She had a sixth sense on how to be a tease. After several shots and a couple of joints, she ran her hand up my thigh. I naturally spread my legs to accommodate her. She moved her hand higher and rubbed my clit over my panties. She gave me a playful push back on the bed. She pulled my panties off and joked “We don't need these tonight.”

She kissed up my thighs. She got to my pussy, traced her tongue around my pussy lips. She giggled as she spread my lips and used her tongue to give a long, single lick over my now swollen clit. She then popped up and with a satanic glint in her eyes said “Time to head out.”

She left me in the horniest state she possibly could have. I am sure she knew I would stay this turned on until I got the chance to cum. 

She giggled and took my hand to pull me up. “Fucking bitch.” I remarked in a sarcastically annoyed tone. We then headed out to the frat party.

The music was loud and audible from a block away. Once we got there and inside it was packed with barely any room to move. We got in line to get our beer cups. They were charging $10 a cup. Marissa leaned in and said something to the guy taking the money. He laughed and handed her two cups. 

We went on our way into the sea of costumed people. We danced together for a bit, running our hands up and down each other's bodies. It was nigh impossible to not feel the horny guys watching us. When we went to get refills we got separated. No big deal I thought. I moved through the sea of bodies and found a couch to sit on. Given the short dress and lack of panties I was as careful as I could be not to flash anyone else. This guy in a Ghostface mask tried chatting with me, it was too loud to hear him so I just nodded and occasionally giggled.

I finally saw Marissa again. She was grinding her ass against a really, really hot black guy. He was probably 6’4, broad shoulders, and wearing a toga. I recognized him as a guy on the football team. She turned around and he leaned down to her and they started making out. I felt a tingle but also a flash of jealousy watching them. As their kiss ended we made eye contact. Marissa said something and came over and grabbed my hand to help me up. She leaned in and said “He thinks you're hot too.” Before dragging me back with her.

We then danced with the guy for a bit. He leaned down and said something to Marissa that I couldn't hear. She responded loudly “Yeah, we'd be up for that.” He then took both of us by the hand and led the way upstairs. He unlocked a door and brought us into his room. I remember thinking “What the fuck did she volunteer us for?”

When the door shut the noise level dropped significantly. For the first time in about 2-3 hours you could actually hear another person talk. He cleared off a spot on a table and pulled out a baggie of white powder. He cut it into three lines, before snorting one himself. Marissa quickly followed suit and snorted up a second line before looking at me and saying “Your turn Kelly.”

I had already figured out it was cocaine, something I had not yet tried. The sane part of my brain was screaming no, too far, but was drowned out by my nympho brain saying do it. Not being one to ignore that part of my brain I put my finger up to press a nostril in, lowered my head, and snorted up the last line.

The burn hits first. Sharp and chemical, crawling up the back of my nose like I have inhaled static electricity. Then comes the rush. Christ, the rush. It slams into my skull all at once, hot and violent and weirdly euphoric, like somebody has thrown open every window inside my brain and flooded the place with bright white light. My heart kicks harder against my ribs. My jaw tightens. Every sound in the room suddenly feels important. I can feel my own confidence expanding in real time, absurdly inflated, as though every anxious thought has been shoved aside to make room for certainty and speed and hunger. For a few reckless minutes I feel untouchable, talking too fast, grinning too wide, convinced I have discovered the secret rhythm beneath the universe itself, even while some quieter part of me already knows the feeling is borrowed and the bill will eventually come do.

The cocaine takes an already overheated body and turns the dial far past reason. Every touch feels electrically amplified, every glance loaded with impossible significance. My skin becomes hypersensitive, almost restless beneath itself, as though desire is no longer sitting politely inside my chest but sprinting through my bloodstream at full speed. The confidence from the rush strips away hesitation and replaces it with impulsive hunger. I feel louder inside my own head, more reckless, more convinced that pleasure is the only thing in the world worth chasing in that moment. It is intoxicating in the most dangerous sense of the word because the drug does not merely heighten arousal. It convinces me the arousal deserves obedience. Boundaries blur. Consequences feel distant and abstract. The entire experience becomes less about intimacy and more about velocity, craving, and the desperate pursuit of sensation intense enough to match the chemical storm raging through my nervous system.

He looked at us and called us “My good little kitty cats.” We giggled in unison, as if the cocaine gave us a hive mind. He then again leaned in to kiss Marissa. My pussy tingled with anticipation watching them this time. That jealousy was suddenly gone. After breaking his kiss with her he leaned over to me next and before I could process what was happening his tongue was inside my mouth and his hand was on my inner thigh. Through what I can only describe as muscle memory I opened my legs to welcome his hand. His hand made its way up to my bare pussy and he rubbed my clit. He pulled away from the kiss and commented “Wow, you are a naughty kitty cat aren't you?”

What I did next I still have no explanation for. I didn't respond with words, I meowed at him. This made him laugh hard as he kept rubbing my clit. He then looked at Marissa and said “Are you a naughty kitty too?”

Following suit, she also meowed and nodded her head yes. He again laughed and told her to stand up. He pulled his hand away from my clit and pulled her panties down. There was a very noticeable wet spot. She stepped out of her panties and again meowed. It was evident that he loved that.

He looked at her and said “Show me how naughty you 2 kitties can be.”

She got on her knees in front of me.  She licked my inner thighs before making her way to my very eager pussy. She teased me by tracing her tongue around my pussy lips. My clit was on fire and I needed an orgasmic release so I grabbed the back of her head and held her face against me. She finally moved her tongue to my clit and rapidly moved it back and forth. All of the previous teasing and stimulation culminated in me cumming hard and loudly as her tongue expertly did its magic. 

As she pulled her head away he reached down pet her saying “Good naughty kitty.” She made a purring sound. Her face was visibly wet from my explosive orgasm. 

“I think you need to thank her now.” He said, looking at me. 

It was too late now to break character, so I meowed and nodded my head yes. She sat on his lap and opened her legs. I took my place on my knees in front of her. I too started by licking her inner thighs and kissing my way up. I could smell how turned on she was as I spread her lips and started eating her out. I looked up and saw she and him were kissing. This made me want to make her cum that much more. I was alternating between circles and going side to side but picked up my pace. Her taste was intoxicating. I could hear her stifled moans as she suddenly arched her back and squeezed her thighs around my head and came herself. I kept licking until she released my head.

He reached down and petted my head and said “Time for you kitties to tend to the lion.” 

Marissa took a place on her knees next to me. He stood up and took his toga off. He was absolutely ripped. Marissa pulled his boxers down and his cock sprung up. To say he had a big cock is an understatement. His cock was large and thick, easily the biggest cock I had seen in person at that point (and only one since has been close.)

Marissa started by running her tongue around the head of his cock. Not wanting to be left out I joined in by licking and sucking on his balls. She then took him in her mouth but gagged when she got about halfway down. She pulled off of him and gave me a look indicating it was my turn. I kissed his head before taking him in my mouth. He had a lot to take in. My cheeks sunk in as I bobbed my head up and down. As I went down I felt Marissa's hand on the back of my head. She pushed down and his cock was in the back of my throat. My mouth had never been so full of cock. I was making a gagging noise but she held my head in place until my eyes watered. He was so deep into my mouth that not even trying to breathe through my nose worked before she finally let go. I pulled off gasping for air. 

In near perfect sync she took him back in her mouth as I caught my breath. She started bobbing and down faster and faster. He let out a loud moan as he came in her mouth. This didn't seem to slow her down. He thrust his pelvis into her mouth a couple of times, getting every last drop out. She pulled off of him and immediately kissed me, making sure she shared his cum. We passionately kissed for a little bit, our tongues swirling around each other as the taste of his cum became stronger. Finally, she broke away. Unexpectedly we seemed to swallow in unison. 

He leaned back, his cock still semi hard and glistening with our saliva. He reached down and first petted her head then mine and for the final time that evening called us “Good kitties.” 

Marissa again made a purring noise and I joined in doing the same. He let out one last giant laugh. He picked up her panties and said “Mind if I keep them to remember my favorite kitties?” 

She nodded and gave a last meow before standing up and then helping me up. She held my hand and we headed out. The music was no longer deafening and the party was winding down. We walked back to our dorm, holding hands but not saying a word. We went back to her room and she finally broke the silence.

“Why did you meow?” As she burst out laughing.

“I have no fucking idea.” I said laughing as well.

She rolled a joint that we shared before we cuddled up and passed out for about 10 straight hours. 

It starts innocently enough. A glance held too long across a bar. A message sent at two in the morning because silence feels physically unbearable. People romanticise compulsive desire as though it is all silk sheets and wicked smiles, but they never speak of the escalation. The terrible, creeping escalation. The way ordinary attention stops working after a while. My brain begins treating affection like a drug tolerance problem. What thrilled me last month barely scratches the itch now. So I push further. Stranger places. Stranger people. Stranger risks. I tell myself I am searching for freedom, but there are nights I know perfectly well I am really searching for impact. Something sharp enough to cut through the numbness for five bloody minutes.

The frightening part is how rational it feels while it is happening. I become an expert solicitor for my own destruction. I can justify anything if the loneliness is loud enough. I convince myself that secrecy is exciting rather than corrosive. I mistake danger for vitality. There is a peculiar kind of hunger that arrives when desire stops being about pleasure and starts becoming about obliteration. The adrenaline matters as much as the attraction. Perhaps more. A locked hotel door. A reckless drive across town after midnight. Letting somebody too charming get too close because part of me wants the story even if it ends badly. Especially if it ends badly. Human beings are absurd creatures. We will walk willingly into fires merely because the warmth briefly distracts us from the cold.

Afterwards comes the stillness. That dreadful emotional hangover nobody writes songs about. I sit there feeling as though I have been trying to fill a cathedral with matches. One tiny flare at a time. And yet the cycle always whispers its return. The mind begins bargaining again. Next time will feel different. Next time will satisfy the ache instead of merely sedating it for an hour. But compulsive desire is a liar with excellent bedside manners. It flatters you while quietly hollowing out the floor beneath your feet. Eventually you realise the risk itself became the aphrodisiac. Not the people. Not even the sex. The risk. The possibility of losing control entirely. And that is the moment the whole thing stops feeling glamorous and starts feeling tragic.

Over the course of the first semester Marissa and I became really good friends, with the added benefit of engaging in sexual exploration with each other. Halloween was quickly approaching and that meant a lot of insane parties to go to. Marissa came up with the idea that we should wear complimentary costumes. We ended up settling on cat costumes. She went as a white cat and I was a black cat. 

We found matching short dresses in black and white along with cat ears. We added thigh high stockings to up the sex appeal. 

We hung out in her room to pre-game. She looked ethereal in her white costume. I was finding it impossible to not get turned on just looking at her. She had a sixth sense on how to be a tease. After several shots and a couple of joints, she ran her hand up my thigh. I naturally spread my legs to accommodate her. She moved her hand higher and rubbed my clit over my panties. She gave me a playful push back on the bed. She pulled my panties off and joked “We don't need these tonight.”

She kissed up my thighs. She got to my pussy, traced her tongue around my pussy lips. She giggled as she spread my lips and used her tongue to give a long, single lick over my now swollen clit. She then popped up and with a satanic glint in her eyes said “Time to head out.”

She left me in the horniest state she possibly could have. I am sure she knew I would stay this turned on until I got the chance to cum. 

She giggled and took my hand to pull me up. “Fucking bitch.” I remarked in a sarcastically annoyed tone. We then headed out to the frat party.

The music was loud and audible from a block away. Once we got there and inside it was packed with barely any room to move. We got in line to get our beer cups. They were charging $10 a cup. Marissa leaned in and said something to the guy taking the money. He laughed and handed her two cups. 

We went on our way into the sea of costumed people. We danced together for a bit, running our hands up and down each other's bodies. It was nigh impossible to not feel the horny guys watching us. When we went to get refills we got separated. No big deal I thought. I moved through the sea of bodies and found a couch to sit on. Given the short dress and lack of panties I was as careful as I could be not to flash anyone else. This guy in a Ghostface mask tried chatting with me, it was too loud to hear him so I just nodded and occasionally giggled.

I finally saw Marissa again. She was grinding her ass against a really, really hot black guy. He was probably 6’4, broad shoulders, and wearing a toga. I recognized him as a guy on the football team. She turned around and he leaned down to her and they started making out. I felt a tingle but also a flash of jealousy watching them. As their kiss ended we made eye contact. Marissa said something and came over and grabbed my hand to help me up. She leaned in and said “He thinks you're hot too.” Before dragging me back with her.

We then danced with the guy for a bit. He leaned down and said something to Marissa that I couldn't hear. She responded loudly “Yeah, we'd be up for that.” He then took both of us by the hand and led the way upstairs. He unlocked a door and brought us into his room. I remember thinking “What the fuck did she volunteer us for?”

When the door shut the noise level dropped significantly. For the first time in about 2-3 hours you could actually hear another person talk. He cleared off a spot on a table and pulled out a baggie of white powder. He cut it into three lines, before snorting one himself. Marissa quickly followed suit and snorted up a second line before looking at me and saying “Your turn Kelly.”

I had already figured out it was cocaine, something I had not yet tried. The sane part of my brain was screaming no, too far, but was drowned out by my nympho brain saying do it. Not being one to ignore that part of my brain I put my finger up to press a nostril in, lowered my head, and snorted up the last line.

The burn hits first. Sharp and chemical, crawling up the back of my nose like I have inhaled static electricity. Then comes the rush. Christ, the rush. It slams into my skull all at once, hot and violent and weirdly euphoric, like somebody has thrown open every window inside my brain and flooded the place with bright white light. My heart kicks harder against my ribs. My jaw tightens. Every sound in the room suddenly feels important. I can feel my own confidence expanding in real time, absurdly inflated, as though every anxious thought has been shoved aside to make room for certainty and speed and hunger. For a few reckless minutes I feel untouchable, talking too fast, grinning too wide, convinced I have discovered the secret rhythm beneath the universe itself, even while some quieter part of me already knows the feeling is borrowed and the bill will eventually come do.

The cocaine takes an already overheated body and turns the dial far past reason. Every touch feels electrically amplified, every glance loaded with impossible significance. My skin becomes hypersensitive, almost restless beneath itself, as though desire is no longer sitting politely inside my chest but sprinting through my bloodstream at full speed. The confidence from the rush strips away hesitation and replaces it with impulsive hunger. I feel louder inside my own head, more reckless, more convinced that pleasure is the only thing in the world worth chasing in that moment. It is intoxicating in the most dangerous sense of the word because the drug does not merely heighten arousal. It convinces me the arousal deserves obedience. Boundaries blur. Consequences feel distant and abstract. The entire experience becomes less about intimacy and more about velocity, craving, and the desperate pursuit of sensation intense enough to match the chemical storm raging through my nervous system.

He looked at us and called us “My good little kitty cats.” We giggled in unison, as if the cocaine gave us a hive mind. He then again leaned in to kiss Marissa. My pussy tingled with anticipation watching them this time. That jealousy was suddenly gone. After breaking his kiss with her he leaned over to me next and before I could process what was happening his tongue was inside my mouth and his hand was on my inner thigh. Through what I can only describe as muscle memory I opened my legs to welcome his hand. His hand made its way up to my bare pussy and he rubbed my clit. He pulled away from the kiss and commented “Wow, you are a naughty kitty cat aren't you?”

What I did next I still have no explanation for. I didn't respond with words, I meowed at him. This made him laugh hard as he kept rubbing my clit. He then looked at Marissa and said “Are you a naughty kitty too?”

Following suit, she also meowed and nodded her head yes. He again laughed and told her to stand up. He pulled his hand away from my clit and pulled her panties down. There was a very noticeable wet spot. She stepped out of her panties and again meowed. It was evident that he loved that.

He looked at her and said “Show me how naughty you 2 kitties can be.”

She got on her knees in front of me.  She licked my inner thighs before making her way to my very eager pussy. She teased me by tracing her tongue around my pussy lips. My clit was on fire and I needed an orgasmic release so I grabbed the back of her head and held her face against me. She finally moved her tongue to my clit and rapidly moved it back and forth. All of the previous teasing and stimulation culminated in me cumming hard and loudly as her tongue expertly did its magic. 

As she pulled her head away he reached down pet her saying “Good naughty kitty.” She made a purring sound. Her face was visibly wet from my explosive orgasm. 

“I think you need to thank her now.” He said, looking at me. 

It was too late now to break character, so I meowed and nodded my head yes. She sat on his lap and opened her legs. I took my place on my knees in front of her. I too started by licking her inner thighs and kissing my way up. I could smell how turned on she was as I spread her lips and started eating her out. I looked up and saw she and him were kissing. This made me want to make her cum that much more. I was alternating between circles and going side to side but picked up my pace. Her taste was intoxicating. I could hear her stifled moans as she suddenly arched her back and squeezed her thighs around my head and came herself. I kept licking until she released my head.

He reached down and petted my head and said “Time for you kitties to tend to the lion.” 

Marissa took a place on her knees next to me. He stood up and took his toga off. He was absolutely ripped. Marissa pulled his boxers down and his cock sprung up. To say he had a big cock is an understatement. His cock was large and thick, easily the biggest cock I had seen in person at that point (and only one since has been close.)

Marissa started by running her tongue around the head of his cock. Not wanting to be left out I joined in by licking and sucking on his balls. She then took him in her mouth but gagged when she got about halfway down. She pulled off of him and gave me a look indicating it was my turn. I kissed his head before taking him in my mouth. He had a lot to take in. My cheeks sunk in as I bobbed my head up and down. As I went down I felt Marissa's hand on the back of my head. She pushed down and his cock was in the back of my throat. My mouth had never been so full of cock. I was making a gagging noise but she held my head in place until my eyes watered. He was so deep into my mouth that not even trying to breathe through my nose worked before she finally let go. I pulled off gasping for air. 

In near perfect sync she took him back in her mouth as I caught my breath. She started bobbing and down faster and faster. He let out a loud moan as he came in her mouth. This didn't seem to slow her down. He thrust his pelvis into her mouth a couple of times, getting every last drop out. She pulled off of him and immediately kissed me, making sure she shared his cum. We passionately kissed for a little bit, our tongues swirling around each other as the taste of his cum became stronger. Finally, she broke away. Unexpectedly we seemed to swallow in unison. 

He leaned back, his cock still semi hard and glistening with our saliva. He reached down and first petted her head then mine and for the final time that evening called us “Good kitties.” 

Marissa again made a purring noise and I joined in doing the same. He let out one last giant laugh. He picked up her panties and said “Mind if I keep them to remember my favorite kitties?” 

She nodded and gave a last meow before standing up and then helping me up. She held my hand and we headed out. The music was no longer deafening and the party was winding down. We walked back to our dorm, holding hands but not saying a word. We went back to her room and she finally broke the silence.

“Why did you meow?” As she burst out laughing.

“I have no fucking idea.” I said laughing as well.

She rolled a joint that we shared before we cuddled up and passed out for about 10 straight hours. 

It starts innocently enough. A glance held too long across a bar. A message sent at two in the morning because silence feels physically unbearable. People romanticise compulsive desire as though it is all silk sheets and wicked smiles, but they never speak of the escalation. The terrible, creeping escalation. The way ordinary attention stops working after a while. My brain begins treating affection like a drug tolerance problem. What thrilled me last month barely scratches the itch now. So I push further. Stranger places. Stranger people. Stranger risks. I tell myself I am searching for freedom, but there are nights I know perfectly well I am really searching for impact. Something sharp enough to cut through the numbness for five bloody minutes.

The frightening part is how rational it feels while it is happening. I become an expert solicitor for my own destruction. I can justify anything if the loneliness is loud enough. I convince myself that secrecy is exciting rather than corrosive. I mistake danger for vitality. There is a peculiar kind of hunger that arrives when desire stops being about pleasure and starts becoming about obliteration. The adrenaline matters as much as the attraction. Perhaps more. A locked hotel door. A reckless drive across town after midnight. Letting somebody too charming get too close because part of me wants the story even if it ends badly. Especially if it ends badly. Human beings are absurd creatures. We will walk willingly into fires merely because the warmth briefly distracts us from the cold.

Afterwards comes the stillness. That dreadful emotional hangover nobody writes songs about. I sit there feeling as though I have been trying to fill a cathedral with matches. One tiny flare at a time. And yet the cycle always whispers its return. The mind begins bargaining again. Next time will feel different. Next time will satisfy the ache instead of merely sedating it for an hour. But compulsive desire is a liar with excellent bedside manners. It flatters you while quietly hollowing out the floor beneath your feet. Eventually you realise the risk itself became the aphrodisiac. Not the people. Not even the sex. The risk. The possibility of losing control entirely. And that is the moment the whole thing stops feeling glamorous and starts feeling tragic.

Over the course of the first semester Marissa and I became really good friends, with the added benefit of engaging in sexual exploration with each other. Halloween was quickly approaching and that meant a lot of insane parties to go to. Marissa came up with the idea that we should wear complimentary costumes. We ended up settling on cat costumes. She went as a white cat and I was a black cat. 

We found matching short dresses in black and white along with cat ears. We added thigh high stockings to up the sex appeal. 

We hung out in her room to pre-game. She looked ethereal in her white costume. I was finding it impossible to not get turned on just looking at her. She had a sixth sense on how to be a tease. After several shots and a couple of joints, she ran her hand up my thigh. I naturally spread my legs to accommodate her. She moved her hand higher and rubbed my clit over my panties. She gave me a playful push back on the bed. She pulled my panties off and joked “We don't need these tonight.”

She kissed up my thighs. She got to my pussy, traced her tongue around my pussy lips. She giggled as she spread my lips and used her tongue to give a long, single lick over my now swollen clit. She then popped up and with a satanic glint in her eyes said “Time to head out.”

She left me in the horniest state she possibly could have. I am sure she knew I would stay this turned on until I got the chance to cum. 

She giggled and took my hand to pull me up. “Fucking bitch.” I remarked in a sarcastically annoyed tone. We then headed out to the frat party.

The music was loud and audible from a block away. Once we got there and inside it was packed with barely any room to move. We got in line to get our beer cups. They were charging $10 a cup. Marissa leaned in and said something to the guy taking the money. He laughed and handed her two cups. 

We went on our way into the sea of costumed people. We danced together for a bit, running our hands up and down each other's bodies. It was nigh impossible to not feel the horny guys watching us. When we went to get refills we got separated. No big deal I thought. I moved through the sea of bodies and found a couch to sit on. Given the short dress and lack of panties I was as careful as I could be not to flash anyone else. This guy in a Ghostface mask tried chatting with me, it was too loud to hear him so I just nodded and occasionally giggled.

I finally saw Marissa again. She was grinding her ass against a really, really hot black guy. He was probably 6’4, broad shoulders, and wearing a toga. I recognized him as a guy on the football team. She turned around and he leaned down to her and they started making out. I felt a tingle but also a flash of jealousy watching them. As their kiss ended we made eye contact. Marissa said something and came over and grabbed my hand to help me up. She leaned in and said “He thinks you're hot too.” Before dragging me back with her.

We then danced with the guy for a bit. He leaned down and said something to Marissa that I couldn't hear. She responded loudly “Yeah, we'd be up for that.” He then took both of us by the hand and led the way upstairs. He unlocked a door and brought us into his room. I remember thinking “What the fuck did she volunteer us for?”

When the door shut the noise level dropped significantly. For the first time in about 2-3 hours you could actually hear another person talk. He cleared off a spot on a table and pulled out a baggie of white powder. He cut it into three lines, before snorting one himself. Marissa quickly followed suit and snorted up a second line before looking at me and saying “Your turn Kelly.”

I had already figured out it was cocaine, something I had not yet tried. The sane part of my brain was screaming no, too far, but was drowned out by my nympho brain saying do it. Not being one to ignore that part of my brain I put my finger up to press a nostril in, lowered my head, and snorted up the last line.

The burn hits first. Sharp and chemical, crawling up the back of my nose like I have inhaled static electricity. Then comes the rush. Christ, the rush. It slams into my skull all at once, hot and violent and weirdly euphoric, like somebody has thrown open every window inside my brain and flooded the place with bright white light. My heart kicks harder against my ribs. My jaw tightens. Every sound in the room suddenly feels important. I can feel my own confidence expanding in real time, absurdly inflated, as though every anxious thought has been shoved aside to make room for certainty and speed and hunger. For a few reckless minutes I feel untouchable, talking too fast, grinning too wide, convinced I have discovered the secret rhythm beneath the universe itself, even while some quieter part of me already knows the feeling is borrowed and the bill will eventually come do.

The cocaine takes an already overheated body and turns the dial far past reason. Every touch feels electrically amplified, every glance loaded with impossible significance. My skin becomes hypersensitive, almost restless beneath itself, as though desire is no longer sitting politely inside my chest but sprinting through my bloodstream at full speed. The confidence from the rush strips away hesitation and replaces it with impulsive hunger. I feel louder inside my own head, more reckless, more convinced that pleasure is the only thing in the world worth chasing in that moment. It is intoxicating in the most dangerous sense of the word because the drug does not merely heighten arousal. It convinces me the arousal deserves obedience. Boundaries blur. Consequences feel distant and abstract. The entire experience becomes less about intimacy and more about velocity, craving, and the desperate pursuit of sensation intense enough to match the chemical storm raging through my nervous system.

He looked at us and called us “My good little kitty cats.” We giggled in unison, as if the cocaine gave us a hive mind. He then again leaned in to kiss Marissa. My pussy tingled with anticipation watching them this time. That jealousy was suddenly gone. After breaking his kiss with her he leaned over to me next and before I could process what was happening his tongue was inside my mouth and his hand was on my inner thigh. Through what I can only describe as muscle memory I opened my legs to welcome his hand. His hand made its way up to my bare pussy and he rubbed my clit. He pulled away from the kiss and commented “Wow, you are a naughty kitty cat aren't you?”

What I did next I still have no explanation for. I didn't respond with words, I meowed at him. This made him laugh hard as he kept rubbing my clit. He then looked at Marissa and said “Are you a naughty kitty too?”

Following suit, she also meowed and nodded her head yes. He again laughed and told her to stand up. He pulled his hand away from my clit and pulled her panties down. There was a very noticeable wet spot. She stepped out of her panties and again meowed. It was evident that he loved that.

He looked at her and said “Show me how naughty you 2 kitties can be.”

She got on her knees in front of me.  She licked my inner thighs before making her way to my very eager pussy. She teased me by tracing her tongue around my pussy lips. My clit was on fire and I needed an orgasmic release so I grabbed the back of her head and held her face against me. She finally moved her tongue to my clit and rapidly moved it back and forth. All of the previous teasing and stimulation culminated in me cumming hard and loudly as her tongue expertly did its magic. 

As she pulled her head away he reached down pet her saying “Good naughty kitty.” She made a purring sound. Her face was visibly wet from my explosive orgasm. 

“I think you need to thank her now.” He said, looking at me. 

It was too late now to break character, so I meowed and nodded my head yes. She sat on his lap and opened her legs. I took my place on my knees in front of her. I too started by licking her inner thighs and kissing my way up. I could smell how turned on she was as I spread her lips and started eating her out. I looked up and saw she and him were kissing. This made me want to make her cum that much more. I was alternating between circles and going side to side but picked up my pace. Her taste was intoxicating. I could hear her stifled moans as she suddenly arched her back and squeezed her thighs around my head and came herself. I kept licking until she released my head.

He reached down and petted my head and said “Time for you kitties to tend to the lion.” 

Marissa took a place on her knees next to me. He stood up and took his toga off. He was absolutely ripped. Marissa pulled his boxers down and his cock sprung up. To say he had a big cock is an understatement. His cock was large and thick, easily the biggest cock I had seen in person at that point (and only one since has been close.)

Marissa started by running her tongue around the head of his cock. Not wanting to be left out I joined in by licking and sucking on his balls. She then took him in her mouth but gagged when she got about halfway down. She pulled off of him and gave me a look indicating it was my turn. I kissed his head before taking him in my mouth. He had a lot to take in. My cheeks sunk in as I bobbed my head up and down. As I went down I felt Marissa's hand on the back of my head. She pushed down and his cock was in the back of my throat. My mouth had never been so full of cock. I was making a gagging noise but she held my head in place until my eyes watered. He was so deep into my mouth that not even trying to breathe through my nose worked before she finally let go. I pulled off gasping for air. 

In near perfect sync she took him back in her mouth as I caught my breath. She started bobbing and down faster and faster. He let out a loud moan as he came in her mouth. This didn't seem to slow her down. He thrust his pelvis into her mouth a couple of times, getting every last drop out. She pulled off of him and immediately kissed me, making sure she shared his cum. We passionately kissed for a little bit, our tongues swirling around each other as the taste of his cum became stronger. Finally, she broke away. Unexpectedly we seemed to swallow in unison. 

He leaned back, his cock still semi hard and glistening with our saliva. He reached down and first petted her head then mine and for the final time that evening called us “Good kitties.” 

Marissa again made a purring noise and I joined in doing the same. He let out one last giant laugh. He picked up her panties and said “Mind if I keep them to remember my favorite kitties?” 

She nodded and gave a last meow before standing up and then helping me up. She held my hand and we headed out. The music was no longer deafening and the party was winding down. We walked back to our dorm, holding hands but not saying a word. We went back to her room and she finally broke the silence.

“Why did you meow?” As she burst out laughing.

“I have no fucking idea.” I said laughing as well.

She rolled a joint that we shared before we cuddled up and passed out for about 10 straight hours. 

It starts innocently enough. A glance held too long across a bar. A message sent at two in the morning because silence feels physically unbearable. People romanticise compulsive desire as though it is all silk sheets and wicked smiles, but they never speak of the escalation. The terrible, creeping escalation. The way ordinary attention stops working after a while. My brain begins treating affection like a drug tolerance problem. What thrilled me last month barely scratches the itch now. So I push further. Stranger places. Stranger people. Stranger risks. I tell myself I am searching for freedom, but there are nights I know perfectly well I am really searching for impact. Something sharp enough to cut through the numbness for five bloody minutes.

The frightening part is how rational it feels while it is happening. I become an expert solicitor for my own destruction. I can justify anything if the loneliness is loud enough. I convince myself that secrecy is exciting rather than corrosive. I mistake danger for vitality. There is a peculiar kind of hunger that arrives when desire stops being about pleasure and starts becoming about obliteration. The adrenaline matters as much as the attraction. Perhaps more. A locked hotel door. A reckless drive across town after midnight. Letting somebody too charming get too close because part of me wants the story even if it ends badly. Especially if it ends badly. Human beings are absurd creatures. We will walk willingly into fires merely because the warmth briefly distracts us from the cold.

Afterwards comes the stillness. That dreadful emotional hangover nobody writes songs about. I sit there feeling as though I have been trying to fill a cathedral with matches. One tiny flare at a time. And yet the cycle always whispers its return. The mind begins bargaining again. Next time will feel different. Next time will satisfy the ache instead of merely sedating it for an hour. But compulsive desire is a liar with excellent bedside manners. It flatters you while quietly hollowing out the floor beneath your feet. Eventually you realise the risk itself became the aphrodisiac. Not the people. Not even the sex. The risk. The possibility of losing control entirely. And that is the moment the whole thing stops feeling glamorous and starts feeling tragic.

Over the course of the first semester Marissa and I became really good friends, with the added benefit of engaging in sexual exploration with each other. Halloween was quickly approaching and that meant a lot of insane parties to go to. Marissa came up with the idea that we should wear complimentary costumes. We ended up settling on cat costumes. She went as a white cat and I was a black cat. 

We found matching short dresses in black and white along with cat ears. We added thigh high stockings to up the sex appeal. 

We hung out in her room to pre-game. She looked ethereal in her white costume. I was finding it impossible to not get turned on just looking at her. She had a sixth sense on how to be a tease. After several shots and a couple of joints, she ran her hand up my thigh. I naturally spread my legs to accommodate her. She moved her hand higher and rubbed my clit over my panties. She gave me a playful push back on the bed. She pulled my panties off and joked “We don't need these tonight.”

She kissed up my thighs. She got to my pussy, traced her tongue around my pussy lips. She giggled as she spread my lips and used her tongue to give a long, single lick over my now swollen clit. She then popped up and with a satanic glint in her eyes said “Time to head out.”

She left me in the horniest state she possibly could have. I am sure she knew I would stay this turned on until I got the chance to cum. 

She giggled and took my hand to pull me up. “Fucking bitch.” I remarked in a sarcastically annoyed tone. We then headed out to the frat party.

The music was loud and audible from a block away. Once we got there and inside it was packed with barely any room to move. We got in line to get our beer cups. They were charging $10 a cup. Marissa leaned in and said something to the guy taking the money. He laughed and handed her two cups. 

We went on our way into the sea of costumed people. We danced together for a bit, running our hands up and down each other's bodies. It was nigh impossible to not feel the horny guys watching us. When we went to get refills we got separated. No big deal I thought. I moved through the sea of bodies and found a couch to sit on. Given the short dress and lack of panties I was as careful as I could be not to flash anyone else. This guy in a Ghostface mask tried chatting with me, it was too loud to hear him so I just nodded and occasionally giggled.

I finally saw Marissa again. She was grinding her ass against a really, really hot black guy. He was probably 6’4, broad shoulders, and wearing a toga. I recognized him as a guy on the football team. She turned around and he leaned down to her and they started making out. I felt a tingle but also a flash of jealousy watching them. As their kiss ended we made eye contact. Marissa said something and came over and grabbed my hand to help me up. She leaned in and said “He thinks you're hot too.” Before dragging me back with her.

We then danced with the guy for a bit. He leaned down and said something to Marissa that I couldn't hear. She responded loudly “Yeah, we'd be up for that.” He then took both of us by the hand and led the way upstairs. He unlocked a door and brought us into his room. I remember thinking “What the fuck did she volunteer us for?”

When the door shut the noise level dropped significantly. For the first time in about 2-3 hours you could actually hear another person talk. He cleared off a spot on a table and pulled out a baggie of white powder. He cut it into three lines, before snorting one himself. Marissa quickly followed suit and snorted up a second line before looking at me and saying “Your turn Kelly.”

I had already figured out it was cocaine, something I had not yet tried. The sane part of my brain was screaming no, too far, but was drowned out by my nympho brain saying do it. Not being one to ignore that part of my brain I put my finger up to press a nostril in, lowered my head, and snorted up the last line.

The burn hits first. Sharp and chemical, crawling up the back of my nose like I have inhaled static electricity. Then comes the rush. Christ, the rush. It slams into my skull all at once, hot and violent and weirdly euphoric, like somebody has thrown open every window inside my brain and flooded the place with bright white light. My heart kicks harder against my ribs. My jaw tightens. Every sound in the room suddenly feels important. I can feel my own confidence expanding in real time, absurdly inflated, as though every anxious thought has been shoved aside to make room for certainty and speed and hunger. For a few reckless minutes I feel untouchable, talking too fast, grinning too wide, convinced I have discovered the secret rhythm beneath the universe itself, even while some quieter part of me already knows the feeling is borrowed and the bill will eventually come do.

The cocaine takes an already overheated body and turns the dial far past reason. Every touch feels electrically amplified, every glance loaded with impossible significance. My skin becomes hypersensitive, almost restless beneath itself, as though desire is no longer sitting politely inside my chest but sprinting through my bloodstream at full speed. The confidence from the rush strips away hesitation and replaces it with impulsive hunger. I feel louder inside my own head, more reckless, more convinced that pleasure is the only thing in the world worth chasing in that moment. It is intoxicating in the most dangerous sense of the word because the drug does not merely heighten arousal. It convinces me the arousal deserves obedience. Boundaries blur. Consequences feel distant and abstract. The entire experience becomes less about intimacy and more about velocity, craving, and the desperate pursuit of sensation intense enough to match the chemical storm raging through my nervous system.

He looked at us and called us “My good little kitty cats.” We giggled in unison, as if the cocaine gave us a hive mind. He then again leaned in to kiss Marissa. My pussy tingled with anticipation watching them this time. That jealousy was suddenly gone. After breaking his kiss with her he leaned over to me next and before I could process what was happening his tongue was inside my mouth and his hand was on my inner thigh. Through what I can only describe as muscle memory I opened my legs to welcome his hand. His hand made its way up to my bare pussy and he rubbed my clit. He pulled away from the kiss and commented “Wow, you are a naughty kitty cat aren't you?”

What I did next I still have no explanation for. I didn't respond with words, I meowed at him. This made him laugh hard as he kept rubbing my clit. He then looked at Marissa and said “Are you a naughty kitty too?”

Following suit, she also meowed and nodded her head yes. He again laughed and told her to stand up. He pulled his hand away from my clit and pulled her panties down. There was a very noticeable wet spot. She stepped out of her panties and again meowed. It was evident that he loved that.

He looked at her and said “Show me how naughty you 2 kitties can be.”

She got on her knees in front of me.  She licked my inner thighs before making her way to my very eager pussy. She teased me by tracing her tongue around my pussy lips. My clit was on fire and I needed an orgasmic release so I grabbed the back of her head and held her face against me. She finally moved her tongue to my clit and rapidly moved it back and forth. All of the previous teasing and stimulation culminated in me cumming hard and loudly as her tongue expertly did its magic. 

As she pulled her head away he reached down pet her saying “Good naughty kitty.” She made a purring sound. Her face was visibly wet from my explosive orgasm. 

“I think you need to thank her now.” He said, looking at me. 

It was too late now to break character, so I meowed and nodded my head yes. She sat on his lap and opened her legs. I took my place on my knees in front of her. I too started by licking her inner thighs and kissing my way up. I could smell how turned on she was as I spread her lips and started eating her out. I looked up and saw she and him were kissing. This made me want to make her cum that much more. I was alternating between circles and going side to side but picked up my pace. Her taste was intoxicating. I could hear her stifled moans as she suddenly arched her back and squeezed her thighs around my head and came herself. I kept licking until she released my head.

He reached down and petted my head and said “Time for you kitties to tend to the lion.” 

Marissa took a place on her knees next to me. He stood up and took his toga off. He was absolutely ripped. Marissa pulled his boxers down and his cock sprung up. To say he had a big cock is an understatement. His cock was large and thick, easily the biggest cock I had seen in person at that point (and only one since has been close.)

Marissa started by running her tongue around the head of his cock. Not wanting to be left out I joined in by licking and sucking on his balls. She then took him in her mouth but gagged when she got about halfway down. She pulled off of him and gave me a look indicating it was my turn. I kissed his head before taking him in my mouth. He had a lot to take in. My cheeks sunk in as I bobbed my head up and down. As I went down I felt Marissa's hand on the back of my head. She pushed down and his cock was in the back of my throat. My mouth had never been so full of cock. I was making a gagging noise but she held my head in place until my eyes watered. He was so deep into my mouth that not even trying to breathe through my nose worked before she finally let go. I pulled off gasping for air. 

In near perfect sync she took him back in her mouth as I caught my breath. She started bobbing and down faster and faster. He let out a loud moan as he came in her mouth. This didn't seem to slow her down. He thrust his pelvis into her mouth a couple of times, getting every last drop out. She pulled off of him and immediately kissed me, making sure she shared his cum. We passionately kissed for a little bit, our tongues swirling around each other as the taste of his cum became stronger. Finally, she broke away. Unexpectedly we seemed to swallow in unison. 

He leaned back, his cock still semi hard and glistening with our saliva. He reached down and first petted her head then mine and for the final time that evening called us “Good kitties.” 

Marissa again made a purring noise and I joined in doing the same. He let out one last giant laugh. He picked up her panties and said “Mind if I keep them to remember my favorite kitties?” 

She nodded and gave a last meow before standing up and then helping me up. She held my hand and we headed out. The music was no longer deafening and the party was winding down. We walked back to our dorm, holding hands but not saying a word. We went back to her room and she finally broke the silence.

“Why did you meow?” As she burst out laughing.

“I have no fucking idea.” I said laughing as well.

She rolled a joint that we shared before we cuddled up and passed out for about 10 straight hours. 

I am a 47-year-old woman who has been married 20+ years. I am not going to lie and say I have a bad relationship with my husband, but...Sometimes you just need something different. I miss the thrill of meeting a new person, the anticipation of waiting for them to respond to your last text message, not hearing the same stories over and over.

I am looking for someone with a college education who can hold an intellectual conversation and transition that to something sexy and naughty. I am not trying to be elitist, I am just experienced and know what works for me and what does not. So unless you are literally an IRL Will Hunting, it probably won't work out, and if you don't get that reference, it definitely will not work out.

As this will inevitably come up, I am 5'5, short dark red hair, and I am a size 12-14.

Ideally you are around my age, but I am fine with younger. You are in the US EST or CST, otherwise the time difference becomes a hurdle.

Since you are checking my profile, if you haven't already, you'll see I write about my sexual history and lean fairly strongly in one political direction. My husband and I have dabbled with the hotwife lifestyle, but that is not what I am looking for here.

If I have peaked your interest, my DMs are open. Please include your age and favorite musician and/or band in your opening message.

We are going to the concert and hoping to find a couple for some fun after the show.

I have been married for 20+ years and am devoted to my husband and family... But lately I have just needed something more.

Where my husband treats me like a princess, I miss the feeyttytrtling of being pursued, of getting butterflies when chatting with someone new, of that finding out phase.

I am a working professional. Even by Massachusetts standards, I am "wicked smart." I am hoping to find someone with that same energy. Someone who can shift from an intellectual conversation to what most might find sexually inappropriate within a couple of sentences.

It does not feel like hunger in the ordinary sense. Hunger can be endured, reasoned with, quieted by time or distraction. This is something far more tyrannical, a restless storm that coils beneath my ribs and will not be stilled. It rises at the most inconvenient hours, unbidden and unrelenting, until it colours every thought, every glance, every breath I dare to take. I have tried to name it, to civilise it with softer language, but it laughs at such efforts. It is not desire as others know it. It is a force that eclipses preference and propriety alike, leaving me adrift in its wake, grasping for any harbour that might grant me a moment’s reprieve.

And what frightens me most is not the intensity, but the surrender it demands. I feel the edges of myself blur, my careful distinctions dissolving into irrelevance as the need swells beyond reason. I am no longer guided by longing or affection, but driven by the sheer necessity to quiet the tempest within me. In those moments, I scarcely recognise the woman I become, so willing to cast aside dignity, expectation, even identity itself, for the promise of fleeting stillness. Yet when the storm recedes, as all storms must, it leaves behind a dreadful calm, and I am forced to reckon with the distance I have travelled from who I once believed myself to be.

This particular day stands out as the day I realized I needed to address my need for sexual gratification. I look back at it now as a moment that I realize is hot to describe, it is hot for others to read and imagine. However, it was perhaps the most humiliation I put myself through.

It was a Friday afternoon in July. I stayed in the area for an internship that summer and was going home to see my parents for the weekend. Nothing too spectacular. I knew this meant hooking up with someone was off the table, but I knew I could make it through.

The night before I had a guy friend over. The sex was disappointing at best. He was unable to make me cum while cumming way too fast himself. It was so frustrating I was unable to even make myself cum afterwards. My yearning for sex was unsatisfied. Even when I woke up the next morning, I could get myself agonizingly close but I just could not cum. At this point in my young adulthood I had purchased my first dildo, but I hadn't yet worked up to a vibrator.

I overslept the next morning and barely had time to shower. I threw on a sundress before I was out the door. I had a familiar 3 hour drive ahead of me. While driving I am left alone with my thoughts. I think about the frustration of the previous night. That leads to thoughts of better sex. Within about 45 minutes I have succeeded in turning myself on to a frustrating level. I try drowning out the thoughts with music to no avail. My clit is swollen and I can feel how wet I am.

The nympho inside me spoke up. “You know you need to deal with this before you get home.”

It was taunting me.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” I plead aloud.

The nympho taunts more “There is a rest stop in a few miles.”

Was it really suggesting this? I start trying to do the math.

“It is a good size rest area. Would I stay in the car? Would I use the bathroom? No, I'd be too loud and then what? I get arrested? What if someone sees me in the car?”

“It would give them a thrill and make us cum harder.” It is still taunting me.

I pull into the rest stop. I park in the furthest corner I can find. I back into the spot. I rationalised I would have a better chance to see someone coming.

I pull my dress up. I bite my lip as I decide if I am actually going to do this. Before I can have a second thought my hand is moving to my pussy. I spread my lips and go straight to my clit. I am trying to be quiet but I can't help but moan.

At first I wanted this to end quickly. But then it felt really good and I really got into it. I would rub my clit to the verge of an orgasm and then slow down to deprive myself.

“You wanna get caught? Don't you? Maybe it will be some hot guy who will fuck you like the slut you are? Maybe it will be someone you need to bribe with your mouth?”

The nympho was enjoying the debauchery and still wanted more.

I needed to feel something, anything in my pussy. I only have my fingers. I am so wet there is no resistance as two fingers slide in. I begin thrusting it in faster and faster. I am lost in the moment and all I care about is cumming. I see a car approaching, but I keep going. If anything, this is that last nudge I needed and I cum. I moaned loudly as I fucked my pussy through an intense orgasm.

As soon as I stopped and post orgasm clarity set in I panicked. Did anyone see? Did I really just get away with this? I notice a person approaching my car. It wasn't a cop, so I didn't care who it was. I started the car and got out of there.

The worst part of this was I had to sit in my self created wet spot for the next 2 hours. My dress is soaked in the back in a combination of my pussy juice and sweat. As my thighs dried they got sticky and I'd need to adjust. Each time thinking how I just debased myself.

The twist of the knife in the humiliation. I could still feel my dress was damp when I got home. I decided spilling my bottle of water all over me was the best cover. So before getting out of the car I pour water all over my lap. I rushed into the house to change.

My nympho had made a lot of salacious decisions for me. But public masturbation was not one of the things I ever thought I'd do. Now another line in the sand was crossed. I knew it would only be harder to talk it out of a repeat performance.

It does not feel like hunger in the ordinary sense. Hunger can be endured, reasoned with, quieted by time or distraction. This is something far more tyrannical, a restless storm that coils beneath my ribs and will not be stilled. It rises at the most inconvenient hours, unbidden and unrelenting, until it colours every thought, every glance, every breath I dare to take. I have tried to name it, to civilise it with softer language, but it laughs at such efforts. It is not desire as others know it. It is a force that eclipses preference and propriety alike, leaving me adrift in its wake, grasping for any harbour that might grant me a moment’s reprieve.

And what frightens me most is not the intensity, but the surrender it demands. I feel the edges of myself blur, my careful distinctions dissolving into irrelevance as the need swells beyond reason. I am no longer guided by longing or affection, but driven by the sheer necessity to quiet the tempest within me. In those moments, I scarcely recognise the woman I become, so willing to cast aside dignity, expectation, even identity itself, for the promise of fleeting stillness. Yet when the storm recedes, as all storms must, it leaves behind a dreadful calm, and I am forced to reckon with the distance I have travelled from who I once believed myself to be.

This particular day stands out as the day I realized I needed to address my need for sexual gratification. I look back at it now as a moment that I realize is hot to describe, it is hot for others to read and imagine. However, it was perhaps the most humiliation I put myself through.

It was a Friday afternoon in July. I stayed in the area for an internship that summer and was going home to see my parents for the weekend. Nothing too spectacular. I knew this meant hooking up with someone was off the table, but I knew I could make it through.

The night before I had a guy friend over. The sex was disappointing at best. He was unable to make me cum while cumming way too fast himself. It was so frustrating I was unable to even make myself cum afterwards. My yearning for sex was unsatisfied. Even when I woke up the next morning, I could get myself agonizingly close but I just could not cum. At this point in my young adulthood I had purchased my first dildo, but I hadn't yet worked up to a vibrator.

I overslept the next morning and barely had time to shower. I threw on a sundress before I was out the door. I had a familiar 3 hour drive ahead of me. While driving I am left alone with my thoughts. I think about the frustration of the previous night. That leads to thoughts of better sex. Within about 45 minutes I have succeeded in turning myself on to a frustrating level. I try drowning out the thoughts with music to no avail. My clit is swollen and I can feel how wet I am.

The nympho inside me spoke up. “You know you need to deal with this before you get home.”

It was taunting me.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” I plead aloud.

The nympho taunts more “There is a rest stop in a few miles.”

Was it really suggesting this? I start trying to do the math.

“It is a good size rest area. Would I stay in the car? Would I use the bathroom? No, I'd be too loud and then what? I get arrested? What if someone sees me in the car?”

“It would give them a thrill and make us cum harder.” It is still taunting me.

I pull into the rest stop. I park in the furthest corner I can find. I back into the spot. I rationalised I would have a better chance to see someone coming.

I pull my dress up. I bite my lip as I decide if I am actually going to do this. Before I can have a second thought my hand is moving to my pussy. I spread my lips and go straight to my clit. I am trying to be quiet but I can't help but moan.

At first I wanted this to end quickly. But then it felt really good and I really got into it. I would rub my clit to the verge of an orgasm and then slow down to deprive myself.

“You wanna get caught? Don't you? Maybe it will be some hot guy who will fuck you like the slut you are? Maybe it will be someone you need to bribe with your mouth?”

The nympho was enjoying the debauchery and still wanted more.

I needed to feel something, anything in my pussy. I only have my fingers. I am so wet there is no resistance as two fingers slide in. I begin thrusting it in faster and faster. I am lost in the moment and all I care about is cumming. I see a car approaching, but I keep going. If anything, this is that last nudge I needed and I cum. I moaned loudly as I fucked my pussy through an intense orgasm.

As soon as I stopped and post orgasm clarity set in I panicked. Did anyone see? Did I really just get away with this? I notice a person approaching my car. It wasn't a cop, so I didn't care who it was. I started the car and got out of there.

The worst part of this was I had to sit in my self created wet spot for the next 2 hours. My dress is soaked in the back in a combination of my pussy juice and sweat. As my thighs dried they got sticky and I'd need to adjust. Each time thinking how I just debased myself.

The twist of the knife in the humiliation. I could still feel my dress was damp when I got home. I decided spilling my bottle of water all over me was the best cover. So before getting out of the car I pour water all over my lap. I rushed into the house to change.

My nympho had made a lot of salacious decisions for me. But public masturbation was not one of the things I ever thought I'd do. Now another line in the sand was crossed. I knew it would only be harder to talk it out of a repeat performance.

It begins quietly, almost innocently, like a flicker you think you understand. You tell yourself it is attraction, chemistry, a passing pull toward another person. But the reality is much different. There comes a point where the feeling deepens, it intensifies, and takes on a life of its own. It ceases to be about who stands in front of you and becomes instead about what is happening within you. The need swells past preference, past identity, past the neat little categories you once believed defined you. It is no longer anchored to a face or a gender or even a particular kind of desire. It is simply there, insistent and unrelenting, demanding to be answered.

Once that threshold is crossed, something shifts in how you understand yourself. The boundaries you once thought were fixed begin to blur, not out of curiosity or rebellion, but out of physical necessity. It is not about redefining who you are attracted to. It is all about quieting a desire and need that has grown too loud to ignore. You find yourself unconcerned with labels, less tethered to the familiar, and more focused on the singular goal of relief. In that space, the distinction between attraction and action blurs until it becomes invisible. All that matters is the easing of that internal tension, however briefly, and the mind becomes remarkably adaptable in its pursuit of that sexual release.

When puberty started I was consumed with the thought of guys. It was hard, if not impossible, to look at a guy I was not related to and not have some sort of sexual thought. This became my normal. Oddly, I was always better at befriending guys more than girls. Around my Junior year of high school, I found my curiosity towards girls started to grow. Even when my nympho brain took over, I was still able to control it. I knew that the desire for sexual contact controlled me, but I was at least able to control it when those desires turned to girls. The good Catholic girl inside of me knew we were a slut, but we were not a lesbian.

This came to an abrupt end early in my freshman year. In my Intro to Psychology class there was a really cute blonde girl named Marissa. We had assigned seating and she was always in the seat in front of me. One day she came to class wearing a white tank top and cutoff denim shorts. She had a white bra on that was visible through her tank top. I was struggling to keep my eyes off of her. She reached forward to get something out of her bag, as she did, I caught a glimpse of her green thong. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. She unexpectedly turned around and asked “Do you have an extra pen?”

I could feel my face turn red. It felt like my tongue swelled up as I struggled to answer. I grabbed a pen from my bag and said “Sh-sure. Here ya-you go.”

She gave me a quizzical look and giggled as she leaned forward to grab the pen from my hand. I couldn't help but catch a peak of her bra clad boobs as she leaned forward. I could feel my pussy tingle in a different way than normal.

As class dragged on I was barely hearing anything the professor had to say. My thoughts kept racing back to how amazing her boobs looked in her bra. Naturally, I wondered what they looked like without the bra.

When class ended she turned around to give my pen back. She gave me a subtly flirtatious smile as she said “Thanks! You're a life saver.”

I had a couple hours before my next class so I went back to my dorm room. Thankfully, my roommate was at class and wouldn't be back for a good hour. I laid down on my bed and just stared at the ceiling. The voice in the back of my mind began taunting me over how Marissa made my pussy tingle. I wanted it to silence itself but it was unrelenting. It was badgering me with questions:

“Do you think she shaves her pussy?”

“Do you think her nipples were as hard as yours?”

“Do you think she knew how wet you were getting thinking of her boobs?

“Do you think she wants to fuck a dirty slut like you?”

Without even realizing it, as was too often the case, my hand found its way to my pussy. I unconsciously undid the button on my shorts and was rubbing my clit over my panties. Soon enough I pulled my shorts and panties down and was now rubbing my clit like I was possessed. My breathing picked up as the pressure inside of me built up. I was squirming as a powerful orgasm tore through me and I let out a large, loud, guttural moan as I came on my fingers. Even after that release my fingers didn't stop. I could tell I wasn't going to cum again but could not stop rubbing myself. Finally, after several minutes I was able to compose myself. I pulled my shorts and panties up just in time before my roommate came in. At least I avoided that potential humiliation.

When I got to Psychology class the day after Marissa was already there. She was wearing a cute white dress with a floral pattern. She had cute sandals on that showed off her perfectly pedicured toes. She turned around and formally introduced herself “Sorry I was so rude last class, I am Marissa by the way.”

I giggled and said "No worries, I am Melody, but you can call me Mel.”

She cracked a smile and said “I prefer Melody. What are you doing after class?”

Since I couldn't very well say going back to my room to finger myself thinking about you, I instead replied “Nothing much.”

“Okay then, do you think you could help me with the next assignment, you seem smart and I am hopelessly lost in this class.” She replied.

I could feel my heart flutter and my face blush. I wanted to play it cool, and simply responded “Sure.”

Before she could reply class started. This was another 75 minute exercise in attempting to control my lust and to try and learn something. I was a bit more successful than the last class, but not by much.

After class ended she turned around and asked “Which dorm are you in?”

“Caswell. Which one are you---?” I replied before she interrupted me.

“No way, me too. I am on the fifth floor.” She gleefully responded. “What's your roommate situation?”

“She's not bad. Not around much though.” I responded.

“Mine dropped out. I have a single for now at least. Wanna hang out in my room?” She responded with an undertone of excitement.

“Sure, were you thinking now or?” I responded.

“Room 12 on the east wing. Why don't you come by around 7?” She asked.

“Sounds like a plan.” I nervously said.

She flashed a smile as she got her things together and headed out.

When I got back to my room in a desperate need for a release I was disappointed to find my roommate was there. I was able to gain some composure and we chatted and hung out.

Around 6pm I decided to shower. I wanted to be fresh for Marissa, even though I wasn't expecting anything to happen. Nonetheless I shaved my legs and arm pits. I debated shaving my pubic hair but decided not to.

When I got back to my room I picked out a loose fitting yellow sun dress. I put on a pink bra and white cotton panties, nothing too sexy. I grabbed my text book and notebook and made my way to the fifth floor. I couldn't explain nor share the butterflies in my stomach. This was just a girl I knew from class, why am I as nervous as when going to hangout with a guy I asked myself.

I knocked on her door. A disembodied voice called out “Just a moment!”

Marissa answered the door in a faded pink tank top and white mesh shorts. It was clear she wasn't wearing a bra as her nipples stuck out against the fabric clinging to her skin. I pretended not to notice but couldn't believe she didn't catch me looking.

Her room was pretty messy. She had clothes, socks, bras, and panties all over her room. She apologized for the mess and cleared a spot to sit. We engaged in some small talk, she was surprised to find out I was from Vermont. She went to her desk and pulled the drawer open and grabbed a baggy with some joints in it. She asked if I partook and I told her I very much did. She smiled devilishly and grabbed a towel. She rolled it up tightly and used it to seal the door. She cracked the window and went back to her desk. This time when she opened the drawer I noticed a dildo, a decent sized one. She grabbed a lighter and lit the joint, never closing the drawer.

We passed it back and forth and talked about life at school. I couldn't stop myself from glancing at her drawer. She noticed and joked “You really wanna see it, huh?”

She went over to the drawer, seemed to wiggle her butt a little more as she pulled out what I could now see was at least an 8 inch dildo with a suction cup at its base. She stroked it suggestively with her hand and joked “This is better than any guy. It's always ready and doesn't cum in me without warning.”

“That is a big plus.” I nervously joked.

I have always been very sexual but this level of bluntness, especially from another girl, was mind blowing. I have always masturbated a lot, but had never had another girl be so open about it.

She playfully ran the head of the dildo against my leg. I jumped back a bit in surprise, opening my legs a little bit more. She giggled and ran it over my exposed thigh. This sensation and situation made my pussy tingle. Without a conscious thought I found myself opening my legs a little more. She gave me a sultry look before tossing the dildo on her bed.

She pulled out a second joint and gave it to me to light. As I sparked it and inhaled I felt her hand touch my exposed leg. I froze as she rubbed her hand up and down my leg. She took the joint from me, took a large hit, and laughed as she exhaled into my face. She handed it back and put her hand back on my leg, this time moving it up past my dress. My pussy was absolutely soaked in anticipation.

Meanwhile, the other part of me feels like I am tied to a chair and forced to watch what my body is doing. I am pleading to myself that I am straight, I don't want to be with another girl. But I know it is to no avail.

I feel her slightly dig her finger nails into my thigh. It stings but feels electric to my pussy. We make eye contact and I lean into her and our lips meet. What started as a slow, cautious kiss quickly evolves into an intense make out session. Her tongue slips inside my mouth as mine eagerly makes its acquaintance. Her hand moves up my thigh as we kiss. She breaks the kiss and clears off her bed; she leaves the dildo and beckons me. I sit next to her and we kiss again. She gently pushes me down to my back, she is on top of me as we continue kissing.

Her hand goes up my dress and she grabs the waistband of my panties. She adjusts her body and sits up, she grabs the other side of my panties and pulls them down. I arch my back slightly to help her and now my pussy is fully exposed to her. She rubs my clit and giggles as she says “Wow, you are really wet.”

As she rubs me I can't help but moan softly.

“Ooooh, you like that?” She says with a lustful intent. She picks up the speed in rubbing my needy clit, soliciting another moan.

As I am moaning I feel a new sensation. She is looking at me while rubbing my clit with one hand as she holds her dildo in the other. She takes the tip of the dildo and replaces her hand with it as she rubs my clit with it. She then says “You're gonna love this…”

She pushes the dildo inside me. I feel my pussy grip onto it as she slowly pushes it in and pulls it out. She pushes it in deeper each time and picks up her pace. I am squirming all over as she penetrates me. She brings me right to edge of a much needed orgasm and then slows down. I beg for her to continue.

“What will you do to cum?” She asks in a seductively wicked voice, as she slowly, excruciatingly slowly pushes the dildo deeper inside of me.

“Wh-wh-whatver y-you w-w--want!” I begged, needing her to finish.

“Whatever I want?” She asked in that same seductive yet wicked voice.

“Y-yes. Pl-please let me cum. Wh-whatever you want.” I begged harder.

“Good yankee girl.” She replied as she went back to fucking me with the dildo. She picked up her speed and within a couple of moments I was moaning loudly as an orgasm tore through my body. My toes curled and I gripped her sheets hard. She didn't slow down until I was making a low mewling sound. She pulled the dildo out of me. I felt my pussy desperately trying to cling onto it, but to no avail.

She then put it in her mouth. She went down on it a few inches and pulled off saying “Wow, your pussy tastes amazing.”

Without asking she slides it back into me, pushing it in deep. She then pulls it out and puts it up to my mouth. “Do you think you taste good?” She asked.

As I went to open my mouth to speak, she put the head to my lips and said “Tell me how you think you taste?”

I opened my mouth and took it inside like I would a cock. The taste was acidic but intoxicating. I fellated the dildo as she held it to my mouth. She pulled it away and said “Well?”

“I think I taste good.” I replied.

She stood up and pulled her shorts down. She wasn't wearing panties and had a perfectly shaved pussy. She sat on the other side of the bed and spread her legs. “Now tell me how I taste.”

Part of me was screaming no. But the hormone controlled part of me was having none of that.

I crawled over to her. I kissed her inner thighs before working my way up. The smell of her pussy was absolutely intoxicating. I ran my tongue over her outer lips. She moaned softly. I spread her lips and my tongue found her clit. I swirled it around, desperately trying to remember what guys do to me. I was shocked in how much I liked how she tasted and I needed more. I quickly went from nervously licking to devouring her pussy. I sucked on her clit. This put her over the edge, she grabbed my head and pushed it into her as she rubbed her pussy on my face while she moaned as she came.

Her orgasm only made her taste better. I kept licking and sucking on her clit until she grabbed my hair to pull me off.

“Wow, I was hoping you were bi, but that was next level. How long have you been eating pussy?” She inquired.

“Ummmm, I, ummm, that was my first time.” I sheepishly replied.

“There is no way I believe that.” She said in disbelief. She was still spreading her legs and her pussy was on display. I couldn't take my eyes off of her beautiful and apparently delicious pussy.

I kissed her legs again and slowly moved up. I made my way up her thighs. My face was back to her pussy. She grabbed my hair and said “Beg.”

“Please let me eat your pussy. I need to taste you again. Please let m-”

She pushed my face into her pussy before I could finish. I immediately went back to licking and sucking her clit as she held my face in place and grinded into my mouth. It seemed like an eternity but I was drunk on her taste. My tongue was starting to hurt when she let out a loud moan and announced “Fuck I'm cumming.”

She released her grip and I pulled back. I couldn't see my face but knew it was begging for her approval.

“Wow. I hope this was as amazing for you as it was for me.” She said catching her breath.

“Absolutely.” I replied, relieved I did good.

This was my first time with another woman. I couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. This was just the first of many more encounters we would have that semester. Those stories will be for another time though.

It begins quietly, almost innocently, like a flicker you think you understand. You tell yourself it is attraction, chemistry, a passing pull toward another person. But the reality is much different. There comes a point where the feeling deepens, it intensifies, and takes on a life of its own. It ceases to be about who stands in front of you and becomes instead about what is happening within you. The need swells past preference, past identity, past the neat little categories you once believed defined you. It is no longer anchored to a face or a gender or even a particular kind of desire. It is simply there, insistent and unrelenting, demanding to be answered.

Once that threshold is crossed, something shifts in how you understand yourself. The boundaries you once thought were fixed begin to blur, not out of curiosity or rebellion, but out of physical necessity. It is not about redefining who you are attracted to. It is all about quieting a desire and need that has grown too loud to ignore. You find yourself unconcerned with labels, less tethered to the familiar, and more focused on the singular goal of relief. In that space, the distinction between attraction and action blurs until it becomes invisible. All that matters is the easing of that internal tension, however briefly, and the mind becomes remarkably adaptable in its pursuit of that sexual release.

When puberty started I was consumed with the thought of guys. It was hard, if not impossible, to look at a guy I was not related to and not have some sort of sexual thought. This became my normal. Oddly, I was always better at befriending guys more than girls. Around my Junior year of high school, I found my curiosity towards girls started to grow. Even when my nympho brain took over, I was still able to control it. I knew that the desire for sexual contact controlled me, but I was at least able to control it when those desires turned to girls. The good Catholic girl inside of me knew we were a slut, but we were not a lesbian.

This came to an abrupt end early in my freshman year. In my Intro to Psychology class there was a really cute blonde girl named Marissa. We had assigned seating and she was always in the seat in front of me. One day she came to class wearing a white tank top and cutoff denim shorts. She had a white bra on that was visible through her tank top. I was struggling to keep my eyes off of her. She reached forward to get something out of her bag, as she did, I caught a glimpse of her green thong. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. She unexpectedly turned around and asked “Do you have an extra pen?”

I could feel my face turn red. It felt like my tongue swelled up as I struggled to answer. I grabbed a pen from my bag and said “Sh-sure. Here ya-you go.”

She gave me a quizzical look and giggled as she leaned forward to grab the pen from my hand. I couldn't help but catch a peak of her bra clad boobs as she leaned forward. I could feel my pussy tingle in a different way than normal.

As class dragged on I was barely hearing anything the professor had to say. My thoughts kept racing back to how amazing her boobs looked in her bra. Naturally, I wondered what they looked like without the bra.

When class ended she turned around to give my pen back. She gave me a subtly flirtatious smile as she said “Thanks! You're a life saver.”

I had a couple hours before my next class so I went back to my dorm room. Thankfully, my roommate was at class and wouldn't be back for a good hour. I laid down on my bed and just stared at the ceiling. The voice in the back of my mind began taunting me over how Marissa made my pussy tingle. I wanted it to silence itself but it was unrelenting. It was badgering me with questions:

“Do you think she shaves her pussy?”

“Do you think her nipples were as hard as yours?”

“Do you think she knew how wet you were getting thinking of her boobs?

“Do you think she wants to fuck a dirty slut like you?”

Without even realizing it, as was too often the case, my hand found its way to my pussy. I unconsciously undid the button on my shorts and was rubbing my clit over my panties. Soon enough I pulled my shorts and panties down and was now rubbing my clit like I was possessed. My breathing picked up as the pressure inside of me built up. I was squirming as a powerful orgasm tore through me and I let out a large, loud, guttural moan as I came on my fingers. Even after that release my fingers didn't stop. I could tell I wasn't going to cum again but could not stop rubbing myself. Finally, after several minutes I was able to compose myself. I pulled my shorts and panties up just in time before my roommate came in. At least I avoided that potential humiliation.

When I got to Psychology class the day after Marissa was already there. She was wearing a cute white dress with a floral pattern. She had cute sandals on that showed off her perfectly pedicured toes. She turned around and formally introduced herself “Sorry I was so rude last class, I am Marissa by the way.”

I giggled and said "No worries, I am Melody, but you can call me Mel.”

She cracked a smile and said “I prefer Melody. What are you doing after class?”

Since I couldn't very well say going back to my room to finger myself thinking about you, I instead replied “Nothing much.”

“Okay then, do you think you could help me with the next assignment, you seem smart and I am hopelessly lost in this class.” She replied.

I could feel my heart flutter and my face blush. I wanted to play it cool, and simply responded “Sure.”

Before she could reply class started. This was another 75 minute exercise in attempting to control my lust and to try and learn something. I was a bit more successful than the last class, but not by much.

After class ended she turned around and asked “Which dorm are you in?”

“Caswell. Which one are you---?” I replied before she interrupted me.

“No way, me too. I am on the fifth floor.” She gleefully responded. “What's your roommate situation?”

“She's not bad. Not around much though.” I responded.

“Mine dropped out. I have a single for now at least. Wanna hang out in my room?” She responded with an undertone of excitement.

“Sure, were you thinking now or?” I responded.

“Room 12 on the east wing. Why don't you come by around 7?” She asked.

“Sounds like a plan.” I nervously said.

She flashed a smile as she got her things together and headed out.

When I got back to my room in a desperate need for a release I was disappointed to find my roommate was there. I was able to gain some composure and we chatted and hung out.

Around 6pm I decided to shower. I wanted to be fresh for Marissa, even though I wasn't expecting anything to happen. Nonetheless I shaved my legs and arm pits. I debated shaving my pubic hair but decided not to.

When I got back to my room I picked out a loose fitting yellow sun dress. I put on a pink bra and white cotton panties, nothing too sexy. I grabbed my text book and notebook and made my way to the fifth floor. I couldn't explain nor share the butterflies in my stomach. This was just a girl I knew from class, why am I as nervous as when going to hangout with a guy I asked myself.

I knocked on her door. A disembodied voice called out “Just a moment!”

Marissa answered the door in a faded pink tank top and white mesh shorts. It was clear she wasn't wearing a bra as her nipples stuck out against the fabric clinging to her skin. I pretended not to notice but couldn't believe she didn't catch me looking.

Her room was pretty messy. She had clothes, socks, bras, and panties all over her room. She apologized for the mess and cleared a spot to sit. We engaged in some small talk, she was surprised to find out I was from Vermont. She went to her desk and pulled the drawer open and grabbed a baggy with some joints in it. She asked if I partook and I told her I very much did. She smiled devilishly and grabbed a towel. She rolled it up tightly and used it to seal the door. She cracked the window and went back to her desk. This time when she opened the drawer I noticed a dildo, a decent sized one. She grabbed a lighter and lit the joint, never closing the drawer.

We passed it back and forth and talked about life at school. I couldn't stop myself from glancing at her drawer. She noticed and joked “You really wanna see it, huh?”

She went over to the drawer, seemed to wiggle her butt a little more as she pulled out what I could now see was at least an 8 inch dildo with a suction cup at its base. She stroked it suggestively with her hand and joked “This is better than any guy. It's always ready and doesn't cum in me without warning.”

“That is a big plus.” I nervously joked.

I have always been very sexual but this level of bluntness, especially from another girl, was mind blowing. I have always masturbated a lot, but had never had another girl be so open about it.

She playfully ran the head of the dildo against my leg. I jumped back a bit in surprise, opening my legs a little bit more. She giggled and ran it over my exposed thigh. This sensation and situation made my pussy tingle. Without a conscious thought I found myself opening my legs a little more. She gave me a sultry look before tossing the dildo on her bed.

She pulled out a second joint and gave it to me to light. As I sparked it and inhaled I felt her hand touch my exposed leg. I froze as she rubbed her hand up and down my leg. She took the joint from me, took a large hit, and laughed as she exhaled into my face. She handed it back and put her hand back on my leg, this time moving it up past my dress. My pussy was absolutely soaked in anticipation.

Meanwhile, the other part of me feels like I am tied to a chair and forced to watch what my body is doing. I am pleading to myself that I am straight, I don't want to be with another girl. But I know it is to no avail.

I feel her slightly dig her finger nails into my thigh. It stings but feels electric to my pussy. We make eye contact and I lean into her and our lips meet. What started as a slow, cautious kiss quickly evolves into an intense make out session. Her tongue slips inside my mouth as mine eagerly makes its acquaintance. Her hand moves up my thigh as we kiss. She breaks the kiss and clears off her bed; she leaves the dildo and beckons me. I sit next to her and we kiss again. She gently pushes me down to my back, she is on top of me as we continue kissing.

Her hand goes up my dress and she grabs the waistband of my panties. She adjusts her body and sits up, she grabs the other side of my panties and pulls them down. I arch my back slightly to help her and now my pussy is fully exposed to her. She rubs my clit and giggles as she says “Wow, you are really wet.”

As she rubs me I can't help but moan softly.

“Ooooh, you like that?” She says with a lustful intent. She picks up the speed in rubbing my needy clit, soliciting another moan.

As I am moaning I feel a new sensation. She is looking at me while rubbing my clit with one hand as she holds her dildo in the other. She takes the tip of the dildo and replaces her hand with it as she rubs my clit with it. She then says “You're gonna love this…”

She pushes the dildo inside me. I feel my pussy grip onto it as she slowly pushes it in and pulls it out. She pushes it in deeper each time and picks up her pace. I am squirming all over as she penetrates me. She brings me right to edge of a much needed orgasm and then slows down. I beg for her to continue.

“What will you do to cum?” She asks in a seductively wicked voice, as she slowly, excruciatingly slowly pushes the dildo deeper inside of me.

“Wh-wh-whatver y-you w-w--want!” I begged, needing her to finish.

“Whatever I want?” She asked in that same seductive yet wicked voice.

“Y-yes. Pl-please let me cum. Wh-whatever you want.” I begged harder.

“Good yankee girl.” She replied as she went back to fucking me with the dildo. She picked up her speed and within a couple of moments I was moaning loudly as an orgasm tore through my body. My toes curled and I gripped her sheets hard. She didn't slow down until I was making a low mewling sound. She pulled the dildo out of me. I felt my pussy desperately trying to cling onto it, but to no avail.

She then put it in her mouth. She went down on it a few inches and pulled off saying “Wow, your pussy tastes amazing.”

Without asking she slides it back into me, pushing it in deep. She then pulls it out and puts it up to my mouth. “Do you think you taste good?” She asked.

As I went to open my mouth to speak, she put the head to my lips and said “Tell me how you think you taste?”

I opened my mouth and took it inside like I would a cock. The taste was acidic but intoxicating. I fellated the dildo as she held it to my mouth. She pulled it away and said “Well?”

“I think I taste good.” I replied.

She stood up and pulled her shorts down. She wasn't wearing panties and had a perfectly shaved pussy. She sat on the other side of the bed and spread her legs. “Now tell me how I taste.”

Part of me was screaming no. But the hormone controlled part of me was having none of that.

I crawled over to her. I kissed her inner thighs before working my way up. The smell of her pussy was absolutely intoxicating. I ran my tongue over her outer lips. She moaned softly. I spread her lips and my tongue found her clit. I swirled it around, desperately trying to remember what guys do to me. I was shocked in how much I liked how she tasted and I needed more. I quickly went from nervously licking to devouring her pussy. I sucked on her clit. This put her over the edge, she grabbed my head and pushed it into her as she rubbed her pussy on my face while she moaned as she came.

Her orgasm only made her taste better. I kept licking and sucking on her clit until she grabbed my hair to pull me off.

“Wow, I was hoping you were bi, but that was next level. How long have you been eating pussy?” She inquired.

“Ummmm, I, ummm, that was my first time.” I sheepishly replied.

“There is no way I believe that.” She said in disbelief. She was still spreading her legs and her pussy was on display. I couldn't take my eyes off of her beautiful and apparently delicious pussy.

I kissed her legs again and slowly moved up. I made my way up her thighs. My face was back to her pussy. She grabbed my hair and said “Beg.”

“Please let me eat your pussy. I need to taste you again. Please let m-”

She pushed my face into her pussy before I could finish. I immediately went back to licking and sucking her clit as she held my face in place and grinded into my mouth. It seemed like an eternity but I was drunk on her taste. My tongue was starting to hurt when she let out a loud moan and announced “Fuck I'm cumming.”

She released her grip and I pulled back. I couldn't see my face but knew it was begging for her approval.

“Wow. I hope this was as amazing for you as it was for me.” She said catching her breath.

“Absolutely.” I replied, relieved I did good.

This was my first time with another woman. I couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. This was just the first of many more encounters we would have that semester. Those stories will be for another time though.

It begins quietly, almost innocently, like a flicker you think you understand. You tell yourself it is attraction, chemistry, a passing pull toward another person. But the reality is much different. There comes a point where the feeling deepens, it intensifies, and takes on a life of its own. It ceases to be about who stands in front of you and becomes instead about what is happening within you. The need swells past preference, past identity, past the neat little categories you once believed defined you. It is no longer anchored to a face or a gender or even a particular kind of desire. It is simply there, insistent and unrelenting, demanding to be answered.

Once that threshold is crossed, something shifts in how you understand yourself. The boundaries you once thought were fixed begin to blur, not out of curiosity or rebellion, but out of physical necessity. It is not about redefining who you are attracted to. It is all about quieting a desire and need that has grown too loud to ignore. You find yourself unconcerned with labels, less tethered to the familiar, and more focused on the singular goal of relief. In that space, the distinction between attraction and action blurs until it becomes invisible. All that matters is the easing of that internal tension, however briefly, and the mind becomes remarkably adaptable in its pursuit of that sexual release.

When puberty started I was consumed with the thought of guys. It was hard, if not impossible, to look at a guy I was not related to and not have some sort of sexual thought. This became my normal. Oddly, I was always better at befriending guys more than girls. Around my Junior year of high school, I found my curiosity towards girls started to grow. Even when my nympho brain took over, I was still able to control it. I knew that the desire for sexual contact controlled me, but I was at least able to control it when those desires turned to girls. The good Catholic girl inside of me knew we were a slut, but we were not a lesbian.

This came to an abrupt end early in my freshman year. In my Intro to Psychology class there was a really cute blonde girl named Marissa. We had assigned seating and she was always in the seat in front of me. One day she came to class wearing a white tank top and cutoff denim shorts. She had a white bra on that was visible through her tank top. I was struggling to keep my eyes off of her. She reached forward to get something out of her bag, as she did, I caught a glimpse of her green thong. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. She unexpectedly turned around and asked “Do you have an extra pen?”

I could feel my face turn red. It felt like my tongue swelled up as I struggled to answer. I grabbed a pen from my bag and said “Sh-sure. Here ya-you go.”

She gave me a quizzical look and giggled as she leaned forward to grab the pen from my hand. I couldn't help but catch a peak of her bra clad boobs as she leaned forward. I could feel my pussy tingle in a different way than normal.

As class dragged on I was barely hearing anything the professor had to say. My thoughts kept racing back to how amazing her boobs looked in her bra. Naturally, I wondered what they looked like without the bra.

When class ended she turned around to give my pen back. She gave me a subtly flirtatious smile as she said “Thanks! You're a life saver.”

I had a couple hours before my next class so I went back to my dorm room. Thankfully, my roommate was at class and wouldn't be back for a good hour. I laid down on my bed and just stared at the ceiling. The voice in the back of my mind began taunting me over how Marissa made my pussy tingle. I wanted it to silence itself but it was unrelenting. It was badgering me with questions:

“Do you think she shaves her pussy?”

“Do you think her nipples were as hard as yours?”

“Do you think she knew how wet you were getting thinking of her boobs?

“Do you think she wants to fuck a dirty slut like you?”

Without even realizing it, as was too often the case, my hand found its way to my pussy. I unconsciously undid the button on my shorts and was rubbing my clit over my panties. Soon enough I pulled my shorts and panties down and was now rubbing my clit like I was possessed. My breathing picked up as the pressure inside of me built up. I was squirming as a powerful orgasm tore through me and I let out a large, loud, guttural moan as I came on my fingers. Even after that release my fingers didn't stop. I could tell I wasn't going to cum again but could not stop rubbing myself. Finally, after several minutes I was able to compose myself. I pulled my shorts and panties up just in time before my roommate came in. At least I avoided that potential humiliation.

When I got to Psychology class the day after Marissa was already there. She was wearing a cute white dress with a floral pattern. She had cute sandals on that showed off her perfectly pedicured toes. She turned around and formally introduced herself “Sorry I was so rude last class, I am Marissa by the way.”

I giggled and said "No worries, I am Melody, but you can call me Mel.”

She cracked a smile and said “I prefer Melody. What are you doing after class?”

Since I couldn't very well say going back to my room to finger myself thinking about you, I instead replied “Nothing much.”

“Okay then, do you think you could help me with the next assignment, you seem smart and I am hopelessly lost in this class.” She replied.

I could feel my heart flutter and my face blush. I wanted to play it cool, and simply responded “Sure.”

Before she could reply class started. This was another 75 minute exercise in attempting to control my lust and to try and learn something. I was a bit more successful than the last class, but not by much.

After class ended she turned around and asked “Which dorm are you in?”

“Caswell. Which one are you---?” I replied before she interrupted me.

“No way, me too. I am on the fifth floor.” She gleefully responded. “What's your roommate situation?”

“She's not bad. Not around much though.” I responded.

“Mine dropped out. I have a single for now at least. Wanna hang out in my room?” She responded with an undertone of excitement.

“Sure, were you thinking now or?” I responded.

“Room 12 on the east wing. Why don't you come by around 7?” She asked.

“Sounds like a plan.” I nervously said.

She flashed a smile as she got her things together and headed out.

When I got back to my room in a desperate need for a release I was disappointed to find my roommate was there. I was able to gain some composure and we chatted and hung out.

Around 6pm I decided to shower. I wanted to be fresh for Marissa, even though I wasn't expecting anything to happen. Nonetheless I shaved my legs and arm pits. I debated shaving my pubic hair but decided not to.

When I got back to my room I picked out a loose fitting yellow sun dress. I put on a pink bra and white cotton panties, nothing too sexy. I grabbed my text book and notebook and made my way to the fifth floor. I couldn't explain nor share the butterflies in my stomach. This was just a girl I knew from class, why am I as nervous as when going to hangout with a guy I asked myself.

I knocked on her door. A disembodied voice called out “Just a moment!”

Marissa answered the door in a faded pink tank top and white mesh shorts. It was clear she wasn't wearing a bra as her nipples stuck out against the fabric clinging to her skin. I pretended not to notice but couldn't believe she didn't catch me looking.

Her room was pretty messy. She had clothes, socks, bras, and panties all over her room. She apologized for the mess and cleared a spot to sit. We engaged in some small talk, she was surprised to find out I was from Vermont. She went to her desk and pulled the drawer open and grabbed a baggy with some joints in it. She asked if I partook and I told her I very much did. She smiled devilishly and grabbed a towel. She rolled it up tightly and used it to seal the door. She cracked the window and went back to her desk. This time when she opened the drawer I noticed a dildo, a decent sized one. She grabbed a lighter and lit the joint, never closing the drawer.

We passed it back and forth and talked about life at school. I couldn't stop myself from glancing at her drawer. She noticed and joked “You really wanna see it, huh?”

She went over to the drawer, seemed to wiggle her butt a little more as she pulled out what I could now see was at least an 8 inch dildo with a suction cup at its base. She stroked it suggestively with her hand and joked “This is better than any guy. It's always ready and doesn't cum in me without warning.”

“That is a big plus.” I nervously joked.

I have always been very sexual but this level of bluntness, especially from another girl, was mind blowing. I have always masturbated a lot, but had never had another girl be so open about it.

She playfully ran the head of the dildo against my leg. I jumped back a bit in surprise, opening my legs a little bit more. She giggled and ran it over my exposed thigh. This sensation and situation made my pussy tingle. Without a conscious thought I found myself opening my legs a little more. She gave me a sultry look before tossing the dildo on her bed.

She pulled out a second joint and gave it to me to light. As I sparked it and inhaled I felt her hand touch my exposed leg. I froze as she rubbed her hand up and down my leg. She took the joint from me, took a large hit, and laughed as she exhaled into my face. She handed it back and put her hand back on my leg, this time moving it up past my dress. My pussy was absolutely soaked in anticipation.

Meanwhile, the other part of me feels like I am tied to a chair and forced to watch what my body is doing. I am pleading to myself that I am straight, I don't want to be with another girl. But I know it is to no avail.

I feel her slightly dig her finger nails into my thigh. It stings but feels electric to my pussy. We make eye contact and I lean into her and our lips meet. What started as a slow, cautious kiss quickly evolves into an intense make out session. Her tongue slips inside my mouth as mine eagerly makes its acquaintance. Her hand moves up my thigh as we kiss. She breaks the kiss and clears off her bed; she leaves the dildo and beckons me. I sit next to her and we kiss again. She gently pushes me down to my back, she is on top of me as we continue kissing.

Her hand goes up my dress and she grabs the waistband of my panties. She adjusts her body and sits up, she grabs the other side of my panties and pulls them down. I arch my back slightly to help her and now my pussy is fully exposed to her. She rubs my clit and giggles as she says “Wow, you are really wet.”

As she rubs me I can't help but moan softly.

“Ooooh, you like that?” She says with a lustful intent. She picks up the speed in rubbing my needy clit, soliciting another moan.

As I am moaning I feel a new sensation. She is looking at me while rubbing my clit with one hand as she holds her dildo in the other. She takes the tip of the dildo and replaces her hand with it as she rubs my clit with it. She then says “You're gonna love this…”

She pushes the dildo inside me. I feel my pussy grip onto it as she slowly pushes it in and pulls it out. She pushes it in deeper each time and picks up her pace. I am squirming all over as she penetrates me. She brings me right to edge of a much needed orgasm and then slows down. I beg for her to continue.

“What will you do to cum?” She asks in a seductively wicked voice, as she slowly, excruciatingly slowly pushes the dildo deeper inside of me.

“Wh-wh-whatver y-you w-w--want!” I begged, needing her to finish.

“Whatever I want?” She asked in that same seductive yet wicked voice.

“Y-yes. Pl-please let me cum. Wh-whatever you want.” I begged harder.

“Good yankee girl.” She replied as she went back to fucking me with the dildo. She picked up her speed and within a couple of moments I was moaning loudly as an orgasm tore through my body. My toes curled and I gripped her sheets hard. She didn't slow down until I was making a low mewling sound. She pulled the dildo out of me. I felt my pussy desperately trying to cling onto it, but to no avail.

She then put it in her mouth. She went down on it a few inches and pulled off saying “Wow, your pussy tastes amazing.”

Without asking she slides it back into me, pushing it in deep. She then pulls it out and puts it up to my mouth. “Do you think you taste good?” She asked.

As I went to open my mouth to speak, she put the head to my lips and said “Tell me how you think you taste?”

I opened my mouth and took it inside like I would a cock. The taste was acidic but intoxicating. I fellated the dildo as she held it to my mouth. She pulled it away and said “Well?”

“I think I taste good.” I replied.

She stood up and pulled her shorts down. She wasn't wearing panties and had a perfectly shaved pussy. She sat on the other side of the bed and spread her legs. “Now tell me how I taste.”

Part of me was screaming no. But the hormone controlled part of me was having none of that.

I crawled over to her. I kissed her inner thighs before working my way up. The smell of her pussy was absolutely intoxicating. I ran my tongue over her outer lips. She moaned softly. I spread her lips and my tongue found her clit. I swirled it around, desperately trying to remember what guys do to me. I was shocked in how much I liked how she tasted and I needed more. I quickly went from nervously licking to devouring her pussy. I sucked on her clit. This put her over the edge, she grabbed my head and pushed it into her as she rubbed her pussy on my face while she moaned as she came.

Her orgasm only made her taste better. I kept licking and sucking on her clit until she grabbed my hair to pull me off.

“Wow, I was hoping you were bi, but that was next level. How long have you been eating pussy?” She inquired.

“Ummmm, I, ummm, that was my first time.” I sheepishly replied.

“There is no way I believe that.” She said in disbelief. She was still spreading her legs and her pussy was on display. I couldn't take my eyes off of her beautiful and apparently delicious pussy.

I kissed her legs again and slowly moved up. I made my way up her thighs. My face was back to her pussy. She grabbed my hair and said “Beg.”

“Please let me eat your pussy. I need to taste you again. Please let m-”

She pushed my face into her pussy before I could finish. I immediately went back to licking and sucking her clit as she held my face in place and grinded into my mouth. It seemed like an eternity but I was drunk on her taste. My tongue was starting to hurt when she let out a loud moan and announced “Fuck I'm cumming.”

She released her grip and I pulled back. I couldn't see my face but knew it was begging for her approval.

“Wow. I hope this was as amazing for you as it was for me.” She said catching her breath.

“Absolutely.” I replied, relieved I did good.

This was my first time with another woman. I couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. This was just the first of many more encounters we would have that semester. Those stories will be for another time though.

When you suffer from nymphomania it isn't just a distraction. It is like a constant hum under your skin, low and insistent, as if your body has mistaken every quiet moment for an invitation. I would sit in lectures, pen hovering uselessly over paper, trying to anchor myself to something rational while my thoughts drifted somewhere warmer, more immediate, more consuming. It wasn’t romance, not in any meaningful definition of the word. It was lustful urgency. A need that didn’t ask permission, didn’t wait for the right moment, didn’t care about consequences or timing. It certainly didn't care about the version of myself I was supposed to be building.

I told myself I could manage it. That discipline was just a muscle I hadn’t trained yet. So I made rules. Study first. Focus. Breathe. Look at the professor, not the curve of someone’s smile across the room, not the way a hand lingered on a shoulder just a second too long. Some days I could hold the line. I could convince myself I was in control. Other days it slipped, not always in some dramatic collapse into desire, but in a quiet, unconditional surrender. Decisions made were not because they were wise, but because the need for sex of was louder than the voice of reason.

That was the hardest part. Not the desire itself, but how loud it was. How it crowded out everything else until it felt like the only thought in my head. I would lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, bargaining with myself like I was two separate people. One version of me wanted structure, success, a future I could be proud of. The other just wanted something immediate and consuming, something that satiated the noise in a different way. And in those moments, caught between restraint and release, I began to realise that the real struggle wasn’t denying it. It was learning how to control it so as to not let it define me.

There would be days where it would take over every thought in my head. Every thought was about how to satisfy my needs. Even at 18 I knew this was not normal, but knowing that and living with it are not the same. My body needed sexual contact. Some days it needed sexual contact multiple times with different people. If a cute guy smiled at me, the next thousand thoughts were about how the sex with him would be. 

On the worst days, it was like the movie Get Out. My conscious self was locked in the back of my head, watching every decision someone else was making with my body. The one in charge had no care how degrading it was, if anything, it thrived on that degradation. It loved to humiliate me and make decisions that will always be with me. It was like it knew the things I'd never do and sought out ways to do them. 

One of the first humiliations came during college orientation. There was a really hot guy in my orientation group, we'll call him Carter. He was 6’3, long dark hair, and broad shoulders. It was hard to keep my eyes off of him. He quickly noticed the attention I was giving him and he reciprocated it in kind. 

The first day of orientation ended around 10 that night. Everyone was exhausted and my sane self knew I needed sleep. My nymphomaniac self had other plans though. He invited me back to his room and I gladly accepted. His roommate was not there. He packed his bong and offered me some, so naturally I accepted.  After a few rips I was high as fuck and my nympho brain took control.

I made the first move, running my hand over his cock while leaning in to kiss him. Our lips met and soon we were exploring each other's mouth with our tongues. 

Then the door opens. His roommate stumbles in. He is tall but chubby. He made an awful joke I have successfully repressed. Carter invites him over for a couple of bong rips, I foolishly partake. 

My pussy is on fire. I needed sex and I needed it badly. I curled up to Carter and ran my hand over his cock again. He quickly got hard. He whispered in my ear “Mind if he watches?”

I responded by moving my hand under his shorts and I stroked his cock. Carter said “She's cool. You can stay.” 

He took a seat on his bed. I looked back at him before pulling Carter's shorts and boxers off. I was determined to put on a show. I got on my knees and took him in my mouth. I positioned myself so that I was on all fours so his roommate had a view of my ass. I was lost in the moment sucking his cock. 

I felt my shorts get pulled on. Reflexively I cooperated and my shorts and panties were around my knees. The change in the temperature feels amazing on my exposed pussy.

“Can I lick your pussy?” His roommate asked.

This was when it clicked who pulled my shorts and panties off. I stop sucking Carter's cock for a moment before saying “Yes.”

The part of me stuck watching as a passenger in my body is mortified. It was bad enough I was sucking cock while his roommate watched, now I was telling him to join. 

I go back to sucking Carter's cock as I feel my pussy lips spread and a warm tongue exploring me. To my pleasant surprise he is very skilled at eating pussy. I am moaning on Carter's cock as his roommate brings me to orgasm really fast. I feel the head of Carter's cock twitch as he grabs my head while he cums down my throat. His roommate is still eating me out as Carter finally releases his grip. 

I pull my mouth off of his cock and am disappointed.  I really needed to feel his cock in my pussy. His roommate is still masterfully working my pussy with his tongue. The words that escaped my mouth mortified me.

“Fuck me please, fuck me.”

His roommate grabs a condom. I am pretty buzzed but I noticed he had Trojan Magnums. As he pulls his pants down his large, thick cock pops out. He is not necessarily long, but his girth was unreal.  He put on a condom and rubbed the head of his cock against me before pushing inside. The deeper he went the more he stretched me. I couldn't help but moan straight from my gut as he began pumping in and out.

My face was still in Carter's lap. He quickly got hard again and I started blowing him. He wasn't as firm as before but firm enough. His roommate picked up his pace. His weight difference pushed him deeper each thrust and I came hard. He fucked me through the orgasm. I could feel my thighs become damp. He slows down a bit before grabbing my hips and finishing with 3 to 4 body shaking thrusts and letting out a loud grunt. He pulled out, leaving my pussy gaped for a moment.

Carter said he wasn't going to cum again and I pulled my mouth off of his cock. His roommate was sitting against his bed. I tried standing but my legs were still wobbly, so it took a couple of tries. I pulled my shorts and panties up.

“I'm Ryan by the way, nice to meet you.” His roommate said.

I giggled and said “I'm Melody. That was quite the introduction.” 

I noticed it was now 2am and said my goodbyes before heading back to my dorm room.  When I get back to my room I laid awake in my bed, completely satiated, but also coming to grips with being the girl who got tag teamed her first night of college. 

Over the course of the semester I would spend a lot of time in Carter and Ryan's room. The sex became more and more degrading. But that is a story for next time.

When you suffer from nymphomania it isn't just a distraction. It is like a constant hum under your skin, low and insistent, as if your body has mistaken every quiet moment for an invitation. I would sit in lectures, pen hovering uselessly over paper, trying to anchor myself to something rational while my thoughts drifted somewhere warmer, more immediate, more consuming. It wasn’t romance, not in any meaningful definition of the word. It was lustful urgency. A need that didn’t ask permission, didn’t wait for the right moment, didn’t care about consequences or timing. It certainly didn't care about the version of myself I was supposed to be building.

I told myself I could manage it. That discipline was just a muscle I hadn’t trained yet. So I made rules. Study first. Focus. Breathe. Look at the professor, not the curve of someone’s smile across the room, not the way a hand lingered on a shoulder just a second too long. Some days I could hold the line. I could convince myself I was in control. Other days it slipped, not always in some dramatic collapse into desire, but in a quiet, unconditional surrender. Decisions made were not because they were wise, but because the need for sex of was louder than the voice of reason.

That was the hardest part. Not the desire itself, but how loud it was. How it crowded out everything else until it felt like the only thought in my head. I would lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, bargaining with myself like I was two separate people. One version of me wanted structure, success, a future I could be proud of. The other just wanted something immediate and consuming, something that satiated the noise in a different way. And in those moments, caught between restraint and release, I began to realise that the real struggle wasn’t denying it. It was learning how to control it so as to not let it define me.

There would be days where it would take over every thought in my head. Every thought was about how to satisfy my needs. Even at 18 I knew this was not normal, but knowing that and living with it are not the same. My body needed sexual contact. Some days it needed sexual contact multiple times with different people. If a cute guy smiled at me, the next thousand thoughts were about how the sex with him would be. 

On the worst days, it was like the movie Get Out. My conscious self was locked in the back of my head, watching every decision someone else was making with my body. The one in charge had no care how degrading it was, if anything, it thrived on that degradation. It loved to humiliate me and make decisions that will always be with me. It was like it knew the things I'd never do and sought out ways to do them. 

One of the first humiliations came during college orientation. There was a really hot guy in my orientation group, we'll call him Carter. He was 6’3, long dark hair, and broad shoulders. It was hard to keep my eyes off of him. He quickly noticed the attention I was giving him and he reciprocated it in kind. 

The first day of orientation ended around 10 that night. Everyone was exhausted and my sane self knew I needed sleep. My nymphomaniac self had other plans though. He invited me back to his room and I gladly accepted. His roommate was not there. He packed his bong and offered me some, so naturally I accepted.  After a few rips I was high as fuck and my nympho brain took control.

I made the first move, running my hand over his cock while leaning in to kiss him. Our lips met and soon we were exploring each other's mouth with our tongues. 

Then the door opens. His roommate stumbles in. He is tall but chubby. He made an awful joke I have successfully repressed. Carter invites him over for a couple of bong rips, I foolishly partake. 

My pussy is on fire. I needed sex and I needed it badly. I curled up to Carter and ran my hand over his cock again. He quickly got hard. He whispered in my ear “Mind if he watches?”

I responded by moving my hand under his shorts and I stroked his cock. Carter said “She's cool. You can stay.” 

He took a seat on his bed. I looked back at him before pulling Carter's shorts and boxers off. I was determined to put on a show. I got on my knees and took him in my mouth. I positioned myself so that I was on all fours so his roommate had a view of my ass. I was lost in the moment sucking his cock. 

I felt my shorts get pulled on. Reflexively I cooperated and my shorts and panties were around my knees. The change in the temperature feels amazing on my exposed pussy.

“Can I lick your pussy?” His roommate asked.

This was when it clicked who pulled my shorts and panties off. I stop sucking Carter's cock for a moment before saying “Yes.”

The part of me stuck watching as a passenger in my body is mortified. It was bad enough I was sucking cock while his roommate watched, now I was telling him to join. 

I go back to sucking Carter's cock as I feel my pussy lips spread and a warm tongue exploring me. To my pleasant surprise he is very skilled at eating pussy. I am moaning on Carter's cock as his roommate brings me to orgasm really fast. I feel the head of Carter's cock twitch as he grabs my head while he cums down my throat. His roommate is still eating me out as Carter finally releases his grip. 

I pull my mouth off of his cock and am disappointed.  I really needed to feel his cock in my pussy. His roommate is still masterfully working my pussy with his tongue. The words that escaped my mouth mortified me.

“Fuck me please, fuck me.”

His roommate grabs a condom. I am pretty buzzed but I noticed he had Trojan Magnums. As he pulls his pants down his large, thick cock pops out. He is not necessarily long, but his girth was unreal.  He put on a condom and rubbed the head of his cock against me before pushing inside. The deeper he went the more he stretched me. I couldn't help but moan straight from my gut as he began pumping in and out.

My face was still in Carter's lap. He quickly got hard again and I started blowing him. He wasn't as firm as before but firm enough. His roommate picked up his pace. His weight difference pushed him deeper each thrust and I came hard. He fucked me through the orgasm. I could feel my thighs become damp. He slows down a bit before grabbing my hips and finishing with 3 to 4 body shaking thrusts and letting out a loud grunt. He pulled out, leaving my pussy gaped for a moment.

Carter said he wasn't going to cum again and I pulled my mouth off of his cock. His roommate was sitting against his bed. I tried standing but my legs were still wobbly, so it took a couple of tries. I pulled my shorts and panties up.

“I'm Ryan by the way, nice to meet you.” His roommate said.

I giggled and said “I'm Melody. That was quite the introduction.” 

I noticed it was now 2am and said my goodbyes before heading back to my dorm room.  When I get back to my room I laid awake in my bed, completely satiated, but also coming to grips with being the girl who got tag teamed her first night of college. 

Over the course of the semester I would spend a lot of time in Carter and Ryan's room. The sex became more and more degrading. But that is a story for next time.

When you suffer from nymphomania it isn't just a distraction. It is like a constant hum under your skin, low and insistent, as if your body has mistaken every quiet moment for an invitation. I would sit in lectures, pen hovering uselessly over paper, trying to anchor myself to something rational while my thoughts drifted somewhere warmer, more immediate, more consuming. It wasn’t romance, not in any meaningful definition of the word. It was lustful urgency. A need that didn’t ask permission, didn’t wait for the right moment, didn’t care about consequences or timing. It certainly didn't care about the version of myself I was supposed to be building.

I told myself I could manage it. That discipline was just a muscle I hadn’t trained yet. So I made rules. Study first. Focus. Breathe. Look at the professor, not the curve of someone’s smile across the room, not the way a hand lingered on a shoulder just a second too long. Some days I could hold the line. I could convince myself I was in control. Other days it slipped, not always in some dramatic collapse into desire, but in a quiet, unconditional surrender. Decisions made were not because they were wise, but because the need for sex of was louder than the voice of reason.

That was the hardest part. Not the desire itself, but how loud it was. How it crowded out everything else until it felt like the only thought in my head. I would lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, bargaining with myself like I was two separate people. One version of me wanted structure, success, a future I could be proud of. The other just wanted something immediate and consuming, something that satiated the noise in a different way. And in those moments, caught between restraint and release, I began to realise that the real struggle wasn’t denying it. It was learning how to control it so as to not let it define me.

There would be days where it would take over every thought in my head. Every thought was about how to satisfy my needs. Even at 18 I knew this was not normal, but knowing that and living with it are not the same. My body needed sexual contact. Some days it needed sexual contact multiple times with different people. If a cute guy smiled at me, the next thousand thoughts were about how the sex with him would be.

On the worst days, it was like the movie Get Out. My conscious self was locked in the back of my head, watching every decision someone else was making with my body. The one in charge had no care how degrading it was, if anything, it thrived on that degradation. It loved to humiliate me and make decisions that will always be with me. It was like it knew the things I'd never do and sought out ways to do them.

One of the first humiliations came during college orientation. There was a really hot guy in my orientation group, we'll call him Carter. He was 6’3, long dark hair, and broad shoulders. It was hard to keep my eyes off of him. He quickly noticed the attention I was giving him and he reciprocated it in kind.

The first day of orientation ended around 10 that night. Everyone was exhausted and my sane self knew I needed sleep. My nymphomaniac self had other plans though. He invited me back to his room and I gladly accepted. His roommate was not there. He packed his bong and offered me some, so naturally I accepted. After a few rips I was high as fuck and my nympho brain took control.

I made the first move, running my hand over his cock while leaning in to kiss him. Our lips met and soon we were exploring each other's mouth with our tongues.

Then the door opens. His roommate stumbles in. He is tall but chubby. He made an awful joke I have successfully repressed. Carter invites him over for a couple of bong rips, I foolishly partake.

My pussy is on fire. I needed sex and I needed it badly. I curled up to Carter and ran my hand over his cock again. He quickly got hard. He whispered in my ear “Mind if he watches?”

I responded by moving my hand under his shorts and I stroked his cock. Carter said “She's cool. You can stay.”

He took a seat on his bed. I looked back at him before pulling Carter's shorts and boxers off. I was determined to put on a show. I got on my knees and took him in my mouth. I positioned myself so that I was on all fours so his roommate had a view of my ass. I was lost in the moment sucking his cock.

I felt my shorts get pulled on. Reflexively I cooperated and my shorts and panties were around my knees. The change in the temperature feels amazing on my exposed pussy.

“Can I lick your pussy?” His roommate asked.

This was when it clicked who pulled my shorts and panties off. I stop sucking Carter's cock for a moment before saying “Yes.”

The part of me stuck watching as a passenger in my body is mortified. It was bad enough I was sucking cock while his roommate watched, now I was telling him to join.

I go back to sucking Carter's cock as I feel my pussy lips spread and a warm tongue exploring me. To my pleasant surprise he is very skilled at eating pussy. I am moaning on Carter's cock as his roommate brings me to orgasm really fast. I feel the head of Carter's cock twitch as he grabs my head while he cums down my throat. His roommate is still eating me out as Carter finally releases his grip.

I pull my mouth off of his cock and am disappointed. I really needed to feel his cock in my pussy. His roommate is still masterfully working my pussy with his tongue. The words that escaped my mouth mortified me.

“Fuck me please, fuck me.”

His roommate grabs a condom. I am pretty buzzed but I noticed he had Trojan Magnums. As he pulls his pants down his large, thick cock pops out. He is not necessarily long, but his girth was unreal. He put on a condom and rubbed the head of his cock against me before pushing inside. The deeper he went the more he stretched me. I couldn't help but moan straight from my gut as he began pumping in and out.

My face was still in Carter's lap. He quickly got hard again and I started blowing him. He wasn't as firm as before but firm enough. His roommate picked up his pace. His weight difference pushed him deeper each thrust and I came hard. He fucked me through the orgasm. I could feel my thighs become damp. He slows down a bit before grabbing my hips and finishing with 3 to 4 body shaking thrusts and letting out a loud grunt. He pulled out, leaving my pussy gaped for a moment.

Carter said he wasn't going to cum again and I pulled my mouth off of his cock. His roommate was sitting against his bed. I tried standing but my legs were still wobbly, so it took a couple of tries. I pulled my shorts and panties up.

“I'm Ryan by the way, nice to meet you.” His roommate said.

I giggled and said “I'm Melody. That was quite the introduction.”

I noticed it was now 2am and said my goodbyes before heading back to my dorm room. When I get back to my room I laid awake in my bed, completely satiated, but also coming to grips with being the girl who got tag teamed her first night of college.

Over the course of the semester I would spend a lot of time in Carter and Ryan's room. The sex became more and more degrading. But that is a story for next time.