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Şub 20

Her Addiction to Porn

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(I was fixing a shower head at this fancy home when I came across an owner’s erotic manuscript. She is obviously trying to get it published. It is about her addiction to porn, and what happens to her because of it. I finished fixing the shower head early and so I had plenty of time to make some popcorn, put up my feet, and read her true story about her porn addiction. One thing I have learned from reading it, is that fantasy can turn into reality.)

*****

The wind rustles the leaves.

Such pretty colors. And so I stare downward, treating my eyes to emerald green, sunflower yellow, tangerine orange, and gaudy red.

The moon is only half full, surely a sign that I have only half considered the consequences of what I am about to do.

It is a true story unfolding, although I wish it were fiction, because I’ve never cheated on Andy before, unless of course you count the computer screen.

A flashing update told me only this morning that my “hard drive can be cleaned for a mere $59.95.” It went on to say that it had uncovered “over a hundred and twenty thousand downloads of pornographic material” in just the last three years alone.

I try to push this morning out of my head, then start moving briskly, my deadly five inch pumps feeling more like concrete than tawdry sex symbols. Yet I continue to contemplate the unthinkable.

I listen to the sound of my heels as they click incessantly along the stone walkway like tick tocks of a swinging clock hand.

“Click, click, click…”

The sound is sexy but uneven, with the right being more pronounced and somewhat heavier than the left as I manufacture my sumptuous, teasing swagger.

A part of me feels liberated and free, with my senses running wild with rabid glee. I am actually going to satisfy my cravings and my urges and my passion and my wicked desires. But…but…but there is another side to it, an aroma of self-loathing and disbelief.

The stench of defeat, destruction and degradation now drips off of me like the cheap perfume doused onto my nervous neck. I would never think to waste my four hundred dollar an ounce stuff on such base and unappreciative men.

Headed for adultery? Am I really going to do this? Really? Fucking really? Say it isn’t so. Say it isn’t so. Say it-

The horn blares as I fail to catch myself stepping into a red light and oncoming traffic. My mind is so damn pre-occupied with what I am about to do that, that, that, that, that-

My mind again, stuck like a broken record, caught between two opposing forces, that which is decent and pure, and that which is immoral and vile.

At any rate, I keep on walking. And my heels keep on clicking. Listen to those heels as they strut their stuff! Lord have mercy, how sexy they sound.

And as I glance in that store window just look at my perfect ass in that skin tight skirt, so short that it barely covers the round irresistible cheeks that make grown men cry like the gorgeous onions that they are.

And my mountainous breasts, so pointy and gravity defying, with no bra to get in the way. But get in the way of whom or what? There are no pictures and there are no screen shots.

There is only the lowlife sex shop and the secret room they call ‘the show and tell cage.’ A room with a wall full of tell-tale holes.

I found out about the sex shop and its sleazy room from being advertised on one of those scary black listed sex ad sites. The regular porn sites call their own such rooms, glory holes.

I gaze at my stunning hour glass figure and my Goddess milky white face in the reflection as I finally reach my destination.

I then tremble as I try to make a precise mental note of the events so I can write it all down on paper later on. I never recorded my last excursions to this dump, but then I never had the guts to fully see it through the first two times I came here. But you know what they say about the third time being a charm.

I sigh bitterly. Have I really sank so damn low? Why am I doing this? And why am I facing such a dangerous compulsion and such unstoppable cravings that seemingly must be quenched? But I know the answer. My porn watching is to blame. All those enticing cocks and muscular thighs and rippling abs with sinewy chests. I have watched it all, every waking moment the last three years while my husband works tirelessly at his high paying CEO job, raking in millions but leaving me desperately lonely.

Only now, I am determined to do something about it. Even though I am feeling downright humiliated and scummy.

I am absolutely against divorce, and so having said that, the solution lies in cheating. The thought makes me want to vomit, but I hold it in. Just barely.

This, being my third time entering the sex shop, makes me even redder in the face and more degraded than the first two times I entered. I never got around to cheating on those first two occasions. But who knows what tonight will bring. For now, as I show that beautiful but reddened face, poker oyna the owner rolls his eyes at the ceiling before glaring at me yet once again. And I know what he is thinking. He has arranged for men to pay him to come and give me what I so desperately need. Only the first two times I left without going through with it and so he had to refund their money for the use of the room that we never used.

He had told me on the first two occasions that I am the absolute hottest chick ever to think about servicing the cocks that frequent those holes behind the looming green door, and yet…and yet…and yet, each time I start step to through that green painted door, I get afraid and chicken out, running out of the room and apologizing to Jeff the owner before scurrying out of his shop like some scared rabbit.

Only tonight will be different. I have fortified myself with a tall glass of rather strong rum, and I know from experience that my tipsy state will last for a good three hours.

I downed the glass of rum a mere hour ago, just after lying to my husband Andy about wanting to step out for some fresh air and then spend some time at the library.

He thought I drove my BMW, but I scurried around the corner and called a cab. Too much alcohol in my blood to actually risk turning on an engine!

Regardless it hasn’t seemed to bother him that I am stepping out for a bit. I am sure he isn’t planning to hump me later on. I know that because he has a very low sex drive, and has been unable to cure his low libido or his “cum too quick” cock despite me getting him Viagra and Cialis and therapists and books on how to keep from firing too soon.

I’ve even sent Andy to an army of sex councillors, but alas, each time he goes, his lack of interest in my pussy and his short minute long fuse cannot be countered by any number of drugs or therapies. And so I am doomed to forever being unsatisfied, a fate far too cruel considering I have a volcanic sex drive and a fabulous face and body. Men stare at me and come on to me all day long, only I have up till now been faithful. Ten years of resisting the powerful urges to cheat on Andy. And in doing so I feel like I have wasted the world’s hottest female body.

I survived the first seven years of our basically sexless marriage by joining sewing clubs and book clubs and baking clubs and by volunteering my time at the local hospital and visiting bed ridden seniors. I even ran for political office and almost won a seat on the town council. A local newspaper joked that the only reason I had lost the election was because all the town’s wives had voted against me.

In the words of the editor, “they didn’t want the town’s male councillors distracted by her giant world class boobs and scintillating long silky smooth legs.”

I spent the next three years glued to my computer screen, watching thousands of porn videos while playing with myself and longing for myself to somehow become part of the action. Only now, my fantasies are on the verge of becoming my realities.

“Are you actually going to go through with it tonight?” Jeff, the shop owner says to me.

Jeff is middle aged and balding, sporting a pot belly and a lascivious glare.

Just behind him a see a really hot young guy browsing some mags and sneaking a few peaks at me. He is well built, slick looking, and tall with super dimples and a v-shaped upper body. Nice. Really nice.

Just looking at him makes my panties wet, but I pretend I don’t notice him.

I lean closer to Jeff. Then I whisper softly so as not to be heard by anyone else. “Is that the guy I’ll be fucking? The guy in the black leather jacket?”

Jeff smiles. “Yep, a real stud. But he’s not the only one. There is another guy already waiting behind the wall.”

“Can’t I do this young guy here first? I don’t think I’ll need a second guy, although I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Jeff shrugs. “You can do whatever you want. These guys are regulars and so they know the score. They pay a monthly membership plus the fifty bucks each for tonight for the room fee. They know they have to follow and adhere strictly to the ladies instructions. If they do anything you don’t want them to do, or if they act disrespectful to you in any way, then I’ll stop the session, refund their fifties, and have them banned out of my shop for life.

I stare nervously for a second at the superhot hunk. He is handsome, just like a model, and built like a damn Greek God. What could I possibly not want this guy to do to me?

I begin to pant like some damn dog in heat, with my stiffening nipples poking into my tight blouse and making me so damn hot and bothered at the thought of finally making love to such a real man.

‘Making love?’ Is that what I called it? More like having my brains fucked out and then sucking on that delicious cock he undoubtedly has until an avalanche of orgasms flood my damn pussy like a waterfall. Still, I need to be careful. I am ovulating and have no desire to get canlı poker oyna pregnant. I reach into my purse and take out the box of condoms. If one should accidentally break then I have lots of spares. One thing I don’t want is to catch anything, but even more worrisome than that is the prospect of becoming pregnant. Andy has a very low sperm count, and when coupled with his very low sex drive, it is a small wonder that I’ve never gotten pregnant. At thirty-five years of age I certainly don’t want to start having babies now.

One thing that does really bother me, is the timing. It is more than a little irksome that I started ovulating this morning. That can prove dangerous. Just one broken condom, or one slip of pre-cum before rolling it on, or maybe some sperm covered fingers inserted deep inside of me, and who knows?

I think if I were to get pregnant now I would absolutely lose my mind. I’ve made Andy wear rubbers the last five years because I have had no desire to become a preggy beached whale and end up tied to some ankle biting brat. I am into gold watches, diamond necklaces and weekend trips to Paris. I am not into being thrown up on.

I now squeeze the box of condoms tighter. I panic. Why am I so nervous about tonight, and constantly thinking about the possibility of an impregnation accident?

I try to think about something else, but am so strongly and strangely preoccupied about the possibility that something could go wrong and that my damn hour glass figure could be transformed into a nine month long good year blimp.

I find myself unstoppably apprehensive. All my life I’ve been blessed, or cursed, depending on your view, with a sixth sense about certain things, and my sixth sense is telling me to be very careful about not getting knocked up. Psychologically speaking I know that I could never bring myself to having an abortion, and that includes taking the morning after pill. I cringe at the thought. If I were to get impregnated, then I would have to carry it to term. The thought is beyond frightening. Changing shit filled diapers, and wiping snot filled noses? Definitely not for me. I loved to travel and visit new places, eating at fine restaurants and spending my days buying designer clothes-

“Just so you know, the other guy is already naked, ‘out of his mind’ horny, and waiting behind the wall,” Jeff says to me, breaking my concentration.

“Thanks for letting me know,” I counter, adding, “I hope he meets my specifications. Otherwise I’m going to have to keep insisting on this young stud browsing the mags.”

“What are your specifications?” Jeff asks, realizing that we surprisingly haven’t discussed it before.

“Does it matter? I feel like you’re making me beg?” I whine playfully, my heart set on making out with the young stud at the mag racks. “Let’s just send the waiting guy packing and send in this hunk instead.”

“We could do that. Actually, though, every woman has told me that the guy now in the room is a lot hotter and sexier than any of the guys coming in here, including the here guy browsing the mags.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I countered. “I’ll take the guy I can see, as opposed to someone else. I’m very nervous, it being my first time here and all. Besides, it doesn’t matter how hot the other guy is. I don’t want to see any part of any guy except for his cock,” I insist.

“Don’t worry,” Jeff assures me. “He is well aware of the rules. No entering the room unless you ask him too. The only thing he is allowed to pass through that wall is his super thick foot long black cock.”

I freeze in abject horror at his words. ‘Foot long?’ ‘Black cock?’

“Surely he’ll meet your specifications, right?” Jeff asks, surprised by the stunned look on my face.

I mull over his question. What are my specifications? All I truly care about is that the cock is white and not too damn big. My pussy is so damn tight and tiny from hardly ever being used. As for needing the cock to be white, I have never known any black men before, and so I suppose that a part of me is somewhat prejudiced.

I am almost afraid to admit I want nothing to do with any black man.

“So you’ll bite the bullet and do both of them, right?” Jeff asks hopefully, with two fifty dollar bills in room rent from them hanging in the balance.

“Wrong,” I blurt out instinctively. Now I am certain I want no part of the man already waiting with his pants down. “I have a really tight pussy,” I whisper. “I’d rather not stretch it my first time with something so huge. And I’d prefer a white guy, not that I’m prejudiced or anything. I just think that guy over there by the mags is the cat’s meow.”

Jeff smiles. “He really gets your juices pumping, doesn’t he?”

I blush. “I’ll say.”

With those two words, despite Jeff’s insipid coaxing, I decide that I will only fuck the one cock tonight, and that I will be very discerning about it. First come will not be first serve. I’ve stated my specifications and they are clear and non-negotiable. internet casino

“You sure you don’t want to do both of them?” Jeff asks coyly, starting to anger me. Just what part of no doesn’t he understand?

“You look really hot and bothered,” Jeff continues. “Plus you say you are a powder keg after ten years of self-denial and abstinence. Once a super-hot body like yours gets going you won’t be able to stop so easily. What if the young guy doesn’t last that long and you’re not satisfied?”

I sigh. He is starting to crack my resistance. “Yes, I agree. Ten years of a supressed sex drive and constant denial will do that to a girl. But I can’t be out too late. The library closes at nine and so my husband is expecting me back home at the latest a half an hour after that.”

“Shit, I forgot my watch. What time is it now?”

“Only seven forty-five.”

I do the math in my rum pickled brain. A fifteen minute cab ride will get me home, which leaves me a glorious hour and a half to satisfy my volcanic pussy. I squirm at the thought. I feel like I have a thousand orgasms stored up between my gorgeous legs, just waiting to explode.

Still, if being married to the short fused Andy has taught me anything, it is that all men are not created equal. I ponder Jeff’s warning about the cute guy perhaps not lasting too long. That would seal my fate if this super cute vanilla hunk were to explode too quickly and I didn’t have any backup. I know that I have the savagely sweet lips and the torturously tight pussy to make a short fuse happen.

“Give me a minute to think about it,” I ask, a surge of exhilaration surging through my veins. Two guys on my very first try? With one of them the size of a damn locomotive?

“Fine,” I suddenly blurt out, negating my need to take that minute of thought, throwing up my arms in despair. It doesn’t seem like Jeff is ever going to take no for an answer.

“You sure you’ll be okay with it?” he asks, frustrating me because he is the one pushing the idea of double trouble.

I nod up and down again, then shrug reluctantly to signal my surrender, even though I know the log sized Mandingo will stretch my crazy tight hole open like a cucumber with his ‘super thick foot long cock.’

“You can go right in,” he says to me, then nods at the younger guy that he can take his place now with Mandingo on the other side of the wall.

Two cocks. One white and one black. Really? I ask myself. Really? I ask myself again. Last time I wouldn’t even do one cock, but now I want to be brave and have double trouble? My heart is hammering in my chest and my impressive pointy breasts are heaving up and down with wanton apprehension.

I mull over my fate as I garner the courage to step passed the row of curtains, then stroll along the viewing booths until the green door presents itself for the third time.

The first two times I had chickened out and scurried back home, but this third time is different. I am incredibly horny and fortified with rum.

I put my hand on the door knob and consider my fate. As horny as I feel, and as wet as my pussy is becoming, I just know in my desperate mind that once I step through that door there will be no going back. All those endless hours of staying glued to the screen and salivating over hot, sexy males, pounding their pussy prey…and sweetly sucking their breasts…and their ladies stuffing their mouths with gloriously stiff and hot slabs of cum filled man meat…

Being addicted to porn is what is driving me. A desperate need to turn my fantasies into reality.

I am really out of my mind with wanton lust now. Finally.

I cannot take any more time to think through what I am contemplating doing. I therefore suppose, that I will, in all probability, feel awful guilty once I finish. But for now, having multiple orgasms and being stuffed with throbbing cock is all that really matters.

I turn the door knob but the door won’t open. It’s locked?

My heart begins to pound in my chest. If I had of been looking for a way out, and for a way to recollect my thoughts so I could do the right thing and not go through with it, then now was that chance to reconsider. If the door is really locked, and not just a little stuck, then I will have to go back to the front desk for the key, in which case I can simply run out the front door to the shop and phone for a cab to whisk me to the library, which was where I actually supposed to be.

“It’s only stuck. Just give it a hard push and it will open easily,” Jeff’s voice says over the speaker.

I sigh as I remember from last time that he was watching everything on cameras. By law he is liable for everything that goes on at his sex shop. That means he has to watch things unfold so that he can prevent nasty or unwanted things from happening. Such things might bring him law suits, store closure or even criminal charges. Some guys get crazy. Jeff is watching to keep those things as they should be. He wanted to be sure that any hot and steamy sex stayed as consensual as it was safe.

Still, the thought of Jeff monitoring my sucking and fucking on a TV monitor is very disconcerting. I had thought of him more in terms of a big brother, not a peeping Tom.

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