I’ve gone through promiscuous phases throughout my life. Sometimes it’s made me wonder if I’m a binge-sexer, in the same way some alcoholics are binge-drinkers. Anyway, during my first promiscuous period, I didn’t have the capacity to consider that my behavior was risky and even borderline predatory. I was just into photography, music, pot and getting as much sex as humanly possible. And I had a certain fearlessness that made that end up being quite a lot of sex.
This is about how I broke up with my 22 year-old girlfriend, Kat, in the spring of that year. Kat and I had been dating since shortly before winter break. She seemed out of my league at first but it turned out she wasn’t. I lied to her about my age and we hooked up the first night we met. We made out and I fingered her in her car. Later she found out I was just a freshman and decided to stay with me. She was a sort of former goth chick, dyed black hair, pale skin, tall, wore a lot of dark clothes. She was a criminal justice major. Would late be diagnosed as bi-polar.
Then, when we got back from winter break, she started finding out about the infidelities. The girls I’d had relationships in high school who I screwed around with back home, plus one girl at college I’d continued seeing into early in our relationship. We got in fights and one of them resulted in Kat calling me a narcissist, saying I needed help and kicking me out of her apartment. This must have been in February. I could have simply waited a week until we apologized to each other and were back together again. That had happened once before. But I shuddered when I though about going that long without getting laid. So I considered my options and decided to seduce this girl named Megan (18), who was in my criminal justice class.
Megan was a brunette with freckles, shy and really academically smart, but had a twisted sense of humor when you got her to open up to you. Which I did, whenever I saw her around. I could tell she was interested in me despite her better instincts. I asked her out after class one day. She hesitated, but I persisted. We ended up going out for pizza on Friday night. She wore a sexy purple dress and I, like a bum, wore an un-collared dress shirt and blazer. She came from a much more functional family background than me, I learned. She’d recently broken up with her bf from high school. I was fine with being a rebound.
Afterwards, we went to my pal Dirk’s ‘cocktail party ‘ hosted in his dorm room. Of course, it had just devolved into teen drinking by the time we arrived. I brought this expensive bottle of gin Kat had bought me. Unless you count the orgasm she had the night she bought it–me between her legs, pumping away like the movement of my life depended on it– I’d never paid her back. Tonight I did some shots with Megan and put my hand on the small of her back as she laughed after downing one and burping. She let me. I was gradually easing into things. Then I had my devious idea of how to accelerate her attraction to me. I went up to the hottest random girl I could find and started hitting on her in sight of Megan. I did exactly the same thing I’d done with Megan, because they were both wearing necklaces. I scooped her necklace into my hand and told it was pretty, asked her about it while looking into her eyes. Guess what? It did work on Megan. She was mortified and confused but also started to want me more.
I came back to her and told her that girl was just a friend. She was upset but never told me off, like she should have, in retrospect. I just made constant eye contact–my main method in those days–and asked if she was okay. I asked if it was about her ex. She had to nod at that. So the conversation got steered that way. We went out on the balcony and smoked a bowl and talked about it. She poured out all the drama that had been inside her and started crying. She laid her head on my shoulder and I comforted her. I knew I had her.
Back inside, Megan’s mood was like night and day. She wanted to dance. She was horny. So was I. We danced to whatever rap music was playing, holding each other close, grinding. Then she kissed me. There was some reaction from the crowd around us.
We went into the hall and made out. I kissed her neck and felt her thighs through her dress. She sighed. I asked her if she wanted to get out of there. We agreed to go to her dorm room, a single.
We walked across campus to her dorm. I almost slipped on some ice and she broke my fall; I did the same for her later. We kissed some more just inside her building.
The next thing I recall was the pinkness of her cunt, which was on top of my face. I lay on her bed, she sat on my face. The late-teenage method of eating pussy (in my experience) is to get your whole face in there, to get your nose and chin as wet as your tongue. Such is what I did. But I didn’t finger her while eating her out. I moved my hands elsewhere; slid them up the sides of her body, fondled her tits, slid them back down to her hips, slapped her butt once, straddled her hips.
And what did Megan think of it all? She was pretty enraptured, of course. She’d just gotten out of a relationship, was having an exciting night, was a little high and intoxicated…the moans that emanated from her mouth, the way she gyrated her thighs, the way she seized the back of my head and pushed my face closer to her conveyed the accumulation of her feelings for me that night. The more she pushed me between her thighs the faster I licked. I just did standard side to side and up and down. Whenever I went up and down she said, “yeah…yeah…” meaning maybe I should have done more of those. But it didn’t end up mattering. After going to town on her for like 20 minutes or more, her fingers curled around the hair on the back of my head and I heard her make some more falsetto noises, more emphatic than whimpers, very gaspy. I tried looking up at her face, which I’d occasionally been checking on, but before I could do that her thighs went–
Over my head and I felt her soft skin suction against my ears. I could not hear shit. I did keep moving my tongue. I moved my hands up to her tits. It felt like she had me head-locked like that for a while before she wriggled upwards and off my face. I was staring into this folded duo of 18 year-old female legs. I moved my head free.
We caught our breath and I kissed her, pushed some of her hair from her face. She wanted me; I wanted her. I didn’t have a condom, but that was almost the point. I hated condoms. Ever since Kat I’d been (over) indulging in the pleasures of bare sex. So I had to convince Megan to fuck me raw. So I told her the works: I whispered about how great it felt to be with her, unlike any other girl, I liked her so much, etc. Then I broke the news that I didn’t have a condom, but it would feel so much better this way for both of us. She tried telling me that she might have one, but I steered us away from that. Now I just wanted to feel myself inside her. After some deliberation–after me telling her to look at me when she was looking away and seeming very unsure–she said that we could do it this way.
So there I was, minutes later, raw dogging Megan on her bed, me on top, when I heard a buzzing from behind us. It was my phone. And I knew who was calling.
But I just couldn’t answer right then. I obviously had a job to finish.
If anything, it made me get a little rougher with her. I hoisted up one leg in the air and held her foot. With my other hand I propped up her other leg and held her thigh. She wasn’t as breathy and enraptured for the sex, which figured since she was a little nervous, but I doubted she’d ever had sex like this before and it would be an eye-opener for her and besides…I would pull out.
Easy to say when your girlfriend is calling you and your dick isn’t that wet yet and you’re still minutes from cumming. Harder to say when the girl you’re railing is starting to feel pretty slick and her eyes are shut and her mouth open and she’s more into it…and your cock is about to explode. By now the buzzing had stopped. I leaned in and whispered to Megan,
“Can I come inside you?”
Her answer was: Gasp gasp “yeah” gasp.
In retrospect, maybe she hadn’t said ‘yeah’ to my most recent idea. Maybe it was a yeah to the sex itself. She’d said that word a bunch of times over when my head was between her legs and things were heating up for her. But I took it as permission. I nutted inside of Megan and didn’t try to pull out.
When I was finished, I pulled out and rolled over…and she freaked out a little. She jumped up and went to the bathroom. I heard water running.
Oh shit. She’d be mad.
I lay there intending to let my dick air dry but couldn’t think of what else to do other than call Kat back. So I threw on some boxers and went into the hall.
I was a little tipsy, but Kat was wasted. She was at a party at her friend Renata’s house. She wanted me to come by. Some creepy neckbeard dude we both knew had been hitting on her, thinking she was literally available, and she wasn’t into that. She was drunk, lonely and angry. I tried telling her that I was out with friends, I couldn’t, something like that. But she wasn’t bad at emotional blackmail, Kat. In a couple minutes I was agreeing to come to the party and told her to give me a half hour.
No need to go much into what Megan thought of me when I came back in. She was standing there in her slip and, having heard the conversation somewhat, interrogated me about who that was, was I seeing somebody and I deflected her questions, told her it was fun, but let’s hang out again later.
“You just literally came inside of me and you’re going to ditch me?” Those were her words. To appease her, I gave her my number. I left and washed my face before I left.
It might sound insane, but I wasn’t giving that much thought at the moment as to whether or not Megan would be knocked up. I just assumed it wouldn’t happen (and it didn’t). But the degree to which I used her I now recognize as unconscionable. Less vulnerable women have taught me my lesson since.
But back to that night: I was crossing campus again and, via text, boasting, as teenage boys are wont to do. I texted Dirk that I’d already fucked that girl I was with at his party and was probably getting laid again tonight. It was cold so I went as fast as I could.
When I got to Renata’s house it was almost 2:00. Most people had left the party, including Neckbeard. Kat was in a good mood, thank God. Sometimes she was not pleasant when in a depressive or drunk mood. Sometimes she became abusive. Tonight she hugged me and kissed me and didn’t taste anything on my lips. She wore a red steampunk-y dress. She led me to the living room and acted like nothing had happened. We cuddled on the couch and sipped from her vodka bottle while we watched Transformers: Endgame. Renata sort of glared at me when I tried saying hi to her. She never trusted me.
At some point Renata and her boyfriend decided to go to bed. At that point it was just Kat and I. We left the T.V on for noise-reduction purposes and pulled out the couch bed and got busy. We’d fucked on this bed many-a-time, might I add. Renata knew we did.
Kat I could be less forceful with since we knew each other and each other’s bodies. We undressed each other as we kissed. I unhooked her bra with one hand and stroked her cheek with the other. Romantic. My head was between her legs in not much time. I’d been suffering from pussy-eating withdrawal for the past three or so hours and now I was getting sated. It was darker and Kat was hairier than Megan. She made less noise, too. I still felt her fingers stroking my hair. I still tasted her tanginess. She was more tangy than Megan; blame it on her smoking.
Once she seemed sufficiently breathy and her legs were tensing up at times I decided it was time for the main course. But Kat thought otherwise. As soon as I sat up, she went down on me. And this was very unfortunate. Why? Not because I didn’t like blowjobs (though I don’t), but because of how she reacted when she withdrew her mouth.
“Tom,” she said, making a face. “What is it I’m tasting?”
For a few seconds I literally didn’t know what she was talking about. I said so and guided her head back down. Then I realized. Then she knew for sure. She withdrew again and said,
“You taste like a vagina. Oh my God…”
She ran for the bathroom. For the next minute or so I listened to her hack, spit and run the sink, breathe heavily and spit some more and rinse her mouth. She was being overdramatic about this. And Megan didn’t taste bad at all.
She charged back into the room and slapped me. She hit me again. She shouted at me in a loud whisper that turned into her sobbing. She called me an addict, a shithead, a stupid horny little boy, said she hoped I died, that we were done if I wanted to sleep around as much as I did, we were done. She sat on the edge of the bed and sobbed. I tried putting my hand on her shoulder, but she smacked it away and swore at me.
I thought, welp, guess that’s that. I felt strangely hollow and empty. I did feel guilt, but I also felt deadness.
But Kat surprised me. She sat upright on the bed and I watched her figure, her back arched a little, as I’d seen it do before in other contexts and I saw the look she gives when she’s considering something very hard. She wheeled around and climbed on top of me. My boner pretty much immediately went full mast again. She massaged my cock a little and stuck me inside of her. She started moving up and down.
She hate fucked me like that, mostly silently except for the squeak of the mattress, for some minutes. I tried straddling her hips but she held my hands down on the bed and became more alive, more energetic in her bouncing movements. I couldn’t look at her face because I was sure there’d be tears. So I looked at her tits. Her jangly, flopping tits. They were perfect tits. The looked bigger tonight, though it was very dark. I expected this to be quick, awkward, non-orgasmic sex for her, but she surprised me there, too. She started panting at some point and made shrill, wheezy breaths. I felt her getting wetter. At some point she was regular enough in her gasping that I thought Kat and her bf were definitely awake by now. The TV was still going and I remember some cheesy musical jingle preceding her louder, more conventional moans. I was watching her tits this whole time.
Kat finally let go of my hands and did the back arching thing again. Now was my time: I grabbed her waist and straddled her. Her upper body got tense and rigid. She hyperventilated like nothing I’d ever heard. Her thighs bucked around my waist. She made a series of loud, heavenly shrieks and I felt wet tightness hugging my cock. I half-expected someone to poke their head out of the next room, but nobody did. I was close, but my senses were dulled from the booze and from fucking another pussy earlier. So I staved off my orgasm and straddled her and listened to her. Her nipples were erect. I did not look at her face.
Then I finally came. It was like a waterfall. I let it all out. My orgasm felt like it took forever. I made some noise, too. She lifted herself off me before I was completely done; now my usefulness had passed and she couldn’t stand to feel my cock anymore. I just remember finishing cumming on the sheets and passing out.
I only got about an hour of sleep, probably. Next thing I knew I was woken up by Kat and Renata, who made sure I got dressed and made sure I left. Renata told me that if I ever came near her friend again she would personally beat the shit out of me. I got the drift. I was out.
I walked across campus, my wet cock sticking to my boxers. It must have been five in the morning. I don’t know what I felt. Sexually satisfied for once but not much else. I got home and smoked some more to numb whatever conflicted feelings I had and passed out. The next day I told some friends about the two girls I’d fucked the shit out of in the same night. My libido had also come roaring back. It felt like the more pussy I got the more pussy I craved. I think I also looked up symptoms of sex addiction. I would get back into the swing of things, but it would take me years to come to terms with my treatment of women. I stayed inside by myself and cried a little.