Kate was my best friend, and I loved her. So when I needed help processing a sudden realization, she was the one who was there to listen to me. I knew that I could confide in her about my sex addiction. For most of my life—until that night at least—I considered myself straight. I loved men, the bigger the better, but to be honest I was into all kinds of men. Slender, fat, fit, it didn’t matter. Sometimes all it took was a glance, and I’d jump into a cafe’s bathroom, or a dark alley with the first stranger I’d meet. Of all the men I’d been with, the oldest one was 62, and the youngest one had just turned 18.
I loved being fucked, the feeling of having a man ruin himself over me. Him finishing anywhere he wanted – my mouth, my pussy, my ass, of course. I had been doing anal since I started having sex with my very first boyfriend in high school, when my sex addiction began.
And when I wasn’t able to find someone to fuck—which was rare because men love my fit body—I’d spend hours fucking myself. My collection of toys was huge, always buying a new one to try out. I followed specific brands, and I was subscribed to several porn sites, where I could find the exact kind of guy I wanted. Watching porn, I was imagining myself in the pornstar’s position. I would catch myself gently stroking my pussy through my pants, unconsciously, even in public. I’d get all kinds of looks from people I didn’t know. Lately, I’d been wearing a pair of vibrating panties to work, and I’d get off knowing we were in a meeting.
It took awhile for me to understand I was quite literally, a sex addict. And it took me having a conversation with Kate to realize I was bisexual. She said that she would be there for me to help me through my sex addiction.
She sat next to me and I explained this entire ordeal. I spoke of my habits, of when it started, of how I’d lost count of how many men I’d fucked. I told her of how my neighbors wanted me evicted from the building because they couldn’t stand my moaning. The only reason I hadn’t been kicked out yet was that I was fucking half of the building’s landlords.
Kate listened, with an odd expression on her face. From looking at me, you wouldn’t know I am such a pervert. While I do take care of myself, I dress and behave like a respectable professional. Other than the people I fuck, everyone thinks I’m a saint and have no idea about my sex addiction.
I asked Kate not to look at me like that, but she apologized and said she didn’t mean anything bad by it. She was just surprised because I’d never been open about my sex life with anyone. Girls talk about these things, but not me. She said she thought she and our other friends were sluts, but that they couldn’t hold a candle to me. This was funny, and even though this was a conversation about me asking for advice on how to overcome this, Kate made me feel good about it.
But then she hit me with a curveball. She said I kept talking about men and asked if I’d never been with a girl before. It took me a moment to really think why, in all my years of intense sexual experience, I had never tried being with a girl. While I told her that I didn’t know, he surprised me again by confessing that since she left her boyfriend, and she’d been seeing a girl. I was shocked, but the shock quickly vanished into intrigue.
I realized as she described her sexcapades with her new girlfriend—her eating Kate out in the bar’s bathroom, or her fingering this girl in a train full of people—I was getting wetter and wetter. But when I jokingly said “stop, I think this is making me wet”. Kate paused for a moment, and looked me up and down, as if she’d never seen me before. Only then I realized she’d been inching closer and closer to me as the conversation had progressed, and now our faces were mere inches apart.
It was new, completely different from kissing a man. It was softer and kinder, and her lips had a warmth that I’d never find anywhere else. She pounced on me, riding my hips and rubbing against me like a needy pup. I took off her top and her bra, and I took one of her breasts in my mouth for the first time. Her nipples were so soft and pink and enough to feed my sex addiction.
Her hand was lost between my legs, undoing my pants. My sex addiction got the best of me. Suddenly, she pulled my pants off completely, exposing me to her. She went in circles around my pussy, teasing me, and giving my clit the occasional lick. But I wouldn’t let her tease me, I needed to have her eat me out, so I grabbed the back of her head and forced her in. I moved my hips back and forth as she licked, bit, and kissed my pussy. The energy was so powerful, the chemistry between the two of us so palpable, that I ended up cumming harder than I’d ever done before.
As the night continued, we went back to my bedroom. We used all our toys to fuck each other until the sun came out in the morning. Then we slept all day together, and when we woke up, we continued making out, and fucking.
Instead of curing me or giving me advice, Kate helped me control my sex addiction by being as much of a pervert as I am. I no longer have to masturbate, because I always have her, her girlfriend, and anyone else we may want to cure my need.
Want to share more about my sex addiction or yours?
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