Summary:
Lonely wife uses Craigslist to rekindle her lust for cunt.
Note:
Thanks to Tex Beethoven, Robert, Dave, and Wayne for editing this story.
CUNT ADDICTION: A BLACK EUPHORIA
Was it wrong for me to return to my sordid, taboo, submissive past?
Likely.
Was it wrong for me to cheat on my husband by serving a plethora of cunts?
Likely.
Do I regret it?
No.
Here is the story of how it all began... one cunt at a time.
...
Back in college, for all four years I was a submissive pussy pleaser to my roommate Amber.
I mean she snapped her fingers and I immediately stopped whatever I was doing (working out, studying, watching television or even talking to my mom on the phone), dropped onto all fours and crawled to her. She would spread her legs and I would spend the next thirty minutes to two hours between them, licking her (sometimes it was to multiple orgasms... the record being twelve; other times I would just slowly lap her for an eternity, maintaining her on a plateau of pleasure until she finally allowed herself to come).
Truthfully, the long teasing orgasms I gave her drove me nuts and made me utterly dependent on her cum... I became addicted to it. I craved it. I was like a heroin addict, willing to do anything to taste her pussy, her cum.
I licked her under a table at a restaurant, in countless bathroom stalls, in taxis, in a movie theatre, in her parents' kitchen while they were in the other room waiting for us to serve dessert, just to name a few... but, even though she loved to push me to my limits (I was incredibly shy and hated the risk of public sex), she never let anyone know about me nor did she share me with friends. I was her pussy pleaser and hers alone... in retrospect I figured out she was rather possessive that way.
When we graduated from college though, she moved to Europe to pursue a career in fashion, and I returned home completely lost and disoriented... my last four years being a daze of school and pussy.
Eventually I got my bearings, eventually I met and married my husband, eventually I let my lesbian past fade into oblivion as I became a domesticated housewife.
I never did use the degree I had found time to earn between all the pussy licking... instead I became a housewife. In many ways I got it together.
I had two kids.
I became a soccer mom.
I became a PTA president.
I became the stereotypical suburban housewife.
It wasn't until some nineteen years later... that the cravings returned.
I blame so many things...
I blame empty nest syndrome.
My eighteen-year-old daughter was in college several states away. She was so busy with studies... and I suspected with parties... that she rarely returned my phone calls. When she did, her descriptions of her college life were unbelievably vague.
My twenty-one year-old son was backpacking through Europe and had been gone for almost a year. Occasionally he wrote, but by the time my response was delivered he had moved on. I had a shoe box under my bed gradually filling up with envelopes stamped in various languages, 'Moved. No Forwarding Address.' (Somehow our son always managed to show up at the proper American Express office to pick up the generous amounts of money his dad wired him before disappearing for unstated destinations again.)
Thus for the past three months I had been home alone... bored... feeling inadequate... with no purpose in life anymore since the last twenty-one years had been all about the kids. I'd vicariously lived through them... my own ambitions and dreams muted as I strived to be the best mother ever. Now, with them both so distant, I didn't even have a vicarious life.
I blame my mid-life crisis.
They say men have mid-life crises in their forties... I'm not sure if what I was experiencing was a mid-life crisis... but suddenly I needed more. Being a wife and mother had been my job for over twenty years and now it was time to concentrate on me. The problem was I didn't know who I was anymore. I felt now very much like I had just after finishing college: purposeless, aimless, with no idea of what I wanted to do. I did, though, know I didn't want to sit in my big, empty house all day waiting for my husband to come home; and then only on the rare evenings he was actually planning on being home in time for dinner. He worked late, burning the midnight oil night after night; or at least he said he was. I wondered.
I blame my hard working but neglectful husband.
My husband is a good man. He's a hard worker and earned enough for our nice home, our kids to have enough money to pay for schooling or travelling Europe. That said, even when he was home, our sex life was bland, almost non-existent, and he had never, not even once in two decades, actually gotten me off. I had been faking orgasms for over twenty years. Luckily, the advancement of sex toys from vibrators, to we-vibe, to the rabbit to massagers had kept me satisfied... at least physically... John was usually asleep in minutes once he had shot his wad, leaving me in private for all practical purposes, to finish by myself. Not that he knew, of course.
I blame the internet.
Being alone led me online a lot, which led to my reading online erotica to pass the many hours home alone.
I blame online erotica.
The reality was that I had read online erotica for years... although sporadically over the past few years. But once I had all this extra time on my hands I found something to do with them. I read erotica and pleasured myself... often more than once a day.
The more I read the more I identified myself with the characters... especially the submissive women who reminded me of my college self. Before long I was reading almost nothing but lesbian stories. The stories rekindled my desire to be submissive to a woman... my desire to taste pussy again... as I recalled with longing the sensuality and security of my college days...
I blame online lesbian porn.
Eventually reading wasn't enough, I needed the visual to go along with the stories. Before long I had dozens of favourite lesbian scenes I watched over and over. From my favourite porn actress Kendra James in 'Don't Cross the Ex', where she puts her ex-husband's new bimbo bitch in her place, to the interracial threesome 'Major Trust Issues' where the super cute masseuse Madison Scott ends up in the middle of a black goddess sandwich (this one combining two of my best fantasies: being seduced during a massage and being with a black girl), to 'Massage it Bitch' where a cute Jazy Berlin is surprised and fucked while attempting to give a massage (like I said, I like the massage fantasy, although in mine the masseuse uses me, being in control from start to happy ending), to the entire movie 'My Evil Stepmom Fucked my Ass', to the quirky fetish 'Underground Pantyhose Wresting Alliance: Kendra vs Nikki'. But my favourite was anything starring Phoenix Marie where she dominates someone, from 'Our Babysitter's Butt', to 'Boss Dominates Horny Employee', to 'Juicy Ass Story'. Yet, my ultimate go to flick was the rare one where Phoenix was dominated like in 'You're No Friend of Mine' where Tanya Tate dominates her after a fight at a wedding.
Of course, during each video I watched I envisioned myself as the submissive.
This led to me imagining every woman I knew as a sexual partner with a dominant side.
My neighbor Mrs. Hamilton, who although she was in her late fifties, had a great body and even the strong willed personality of a dominant. She occasionally invited me over for coffee and talked about nothing but herself.
The woman who delivered my mail, who although she was plain looking just seemed like someone who could be a dominant butch. She had very short hair in spikes, and my imagination took that single detail and ran with it.
The slender, fit teenager Amelia from down the street who jogged past my house every morning in those tight butt-hugging shorts. I was sure she slowed down a bit every time she passed my window so I could watch her longer.
The big-busted cashier at the grocery store who never smiled at anyone even though she was courteous in a distant, over-professional manner.
My hairdresser, who frequently brushed against my arms and shoulders, but never to the extent where I could accuse her of acting inappropriately.
My husband's sister, who frequently asked about my sex life with her brother, and who was disappointed when I had nothing in particular to say, which was always.
