Cassie's Fall

I love cum. It's thick and warm and sexy. It tastes salty and sweet and sometimes both at once. I love the creamy feel of it, sitting on my tongue, sliding down my throat, spurting into my cunt, my ass, and then dribbling out. Or covering my face, my tits, my tummy, my ass, my legs. It's intimate, it's primal. I am marked, and yet I helped make it happen.

My bestie Lucy says I'm a cum addict. But that was before I actually became a cum addict.

How is that possible? Surely I mean a burning need and not an actual addiction... But no. I mean I am literally addicted to cum.

***

Lucy and I go to parties. We love sex. We're like, nymphos, lol. So we went to a pretty big party on a Saturday. Lucy knew someone who was going. I'm a bit more shy than Lucy. I mean, shy compared to her. I've fucked a guy in a living room full of people before, and yes, others were fucking too. But anyway, we go to this party, I don't know, thirty or forty people? Big house, rich folks. Nice place. So everyone danced and drank and it seemed like a fun time.

Luce prowled about, hunting for cock. I did too, and though she's prettier than me, I usually do OK. But I didn't see any potential fucks, or really none that made me wet on sight. So I eventually ended up in the kitchen. I knew the ultimate source of beer was there.

Three girls were at the table. One, a brunette, packed a bong bowl. The blonde on the end texted on her phone. By her smile, she was their leader, and some kind of arrogant bitch. But I didn't even know her name. In the middle a black haired, dark skinned girl checked her phone again and again, but I guess there was no message or whatever.

I smiled at them and opened the fridge. When I got my beer I saw they looked haggard. They must have been close to my age, mid to late twenties, but the stiff, quick motions and...desperation...made them seem much older. The brunette packing the bowl looked up at me, and with a jerk of her head, nodded for me to sit. I'm always up for weed, so I sat and had a pull from the beer bottle while waiting.

The bong went round. I did a long, deep rip and grinned as the smoke worked straight away. Good shit. The blonde girl looked at me, just as I was exhaling and passing her the bong. She smiled. Grinned, really, looking at me, sizing me up, then nodded to herself and sent a text before taking the bong and lighter.

We went around, the four of us, and quickly the bowl was ash. Another and we started to feel real good. The first slight smiles from these girls. I noticed the black haired girl's hands vibrated with the shakes as she flicked the lighter. I tried not to stare, but there was something so-used up-about these girls. They kept checking their phones. The brunette kept shaking her head, no...nothing yet.

We hadn't said but a few words, them to each other or me, the whole time. After more phone checks and the brunette getting up and stepping out of the kitchen and coming right back, it was time for yet another bowl. I grinned and floated, all swirly. I smoke a lot, so it takes a bit to get me high now. Them too, but it felt more like they had just seen a massacre and needed some weed or whiskey or anything to calm their nerves.

A phone vibrated and the brunette whipped her hand to the screen like it was a million dollar prize. She grinned. Not so much a happy grin, as a, well, a sigh and a sad smile.

"They're here," she said, as if she was desperately relieved and also resigned. She looked up to share a bittersweet kind of weird smile with the other two.

"Should we go to them?" the black haired girl asked.

The blonde spoke for the first time, and the first time looking up from her phone. "We each have something the other wants. They'll come here."

The black haired girl shook. Her eyes big and worried. "Are you sure? Cuz-"

"They get off on this, the power thing. They'll-"

And just then some guys walked in to the kitchen. Not just guys.

Vampires.

OK, not vampires. Vampires aren't real. But they were...fucking weird. They looked normal. One looked like a jock, tall, beefy, blonde, kinda plain but attractive. He had on a tee and jeans, and they seemed like normal clothes, but not really. Not that these guys were actually super rich and wearing clothes like costumes trying to fit in, but more like they were slumming it.

The other two had on...I don't remember. But though it seemed natural, it wasn't. I couldn't say what it was about them. They were good to look at, strong, thirties, though the blonde jock seemed about twenty-five. Just...it didn't add up. Maybe it was because I was really stoned.

Few words were said. Two of the guys, the jock and another, each grabbed a girl and took off out of the kitchen. Yeah, nice to meet you too.

The blonde girl checked her phone and grinned. She looked at me with a sly smile. "You won't be far behind us." She showed the message to the third guy, and they both laughed. He took her hand and tugged her away. The blonde girl looked over her shoulder as she left, smiling at me. "Enjoy!"

I think she was more stoned than me, cuz that didn't make any sense. I looked at the bong, thinking maybe the dregs, mostly ash, might give me one more hit. Five minutes could've passed, or an hour. The bong was pretty, hand blown glass in greens and blues with red, all fancy patterns. I drifted into the patterns, flew through them, and just giggled. I don't know how long I was lost in the bong.

Some new guy stepped into the kitchen now. He must have been with the vampires, because, well, he looked like a dark George Clooney mixed with the guy on that superhero comic book show. Handsome, strong, six foot six, enormous to my five foot petite frame.

He smiled at me.

I liked that smile, maybe a little too much. It might have been a shark smile, but I didn't care. George, who's name was Niccolo, of course, seemed harmless enough. Not that he really looked harmless, or felt harmless. He just seemed amused and that always puts me at ease. One of those casual Doms. Yeah, he knew ladies went weak and wet around him. That included me.

Maybe because I was so stoned I don't remember much. I just remember at some point early on straddling him in his wooden kitchen chair and rolling my hips, feeling his hard cock through the cotton of his chinos. He kissed divine. Teasing, long and slow, sexy. My thighs were wet, the black thong under my black mini skirt was soaked.

He bent me over the table and ripped at the panties, laughing at the wetness. He cut them off with a knife that had been on the table and pushed them partway into my mouth. So fucking controlling. And sexy.

My tits mashed to the table top, nips so hard it felt like needles stabbed into them. His cock kissed my cuntlips from behind. Oh yeah. I never liked the word, cunt, it's always been pussy for me, but now, now it's definitely cunt.

His cock, which I couldn't see, felt uncircumcised and prolly seven inches, and thick. After teasing my wet folds, it slid in, slow but strong, pushing sugary walls apart, gloved by my cunt.

The thickness stuffed me, it felt sooo good, what an awesome cock. His balls kissed my ass cheeks and velvety wet folds, and were soon slapping, wet squishy noise and slap-slap-slap and grunts and moans and then whimpers from me. He was an awesome fuck. Strong, slamming deep into me, gripping my hips and ramming and pulling me back, and I met him, hips rolling in such fiery need. His fuckthrusts slammed my cunt into the edge of the table, painful yet delicious fire at the same time.

I was so close an orgasm was gonna happen no matter what I did. But this guy, Niccolo, he seemed very alpha, definitely the type you ask permission. Through choking grunts and panty gag I managed to get out something like "Mmmmmmmmaay cahmmm?!"

He growled and slam-fucked me hard, making me wait and then I had to beg in a whimpering scream prolly heard out in the noisy living room despite the gag. His big cock slid in faster and harder, my legs so wide, tingling. With a slap-tap of my ass cheek he let me release, and I fucking screamed as my cunt spasmed,

vibrating like a jack hammer, contracting on his cock and releasing in a frenzy. My thighs tightened, stiff, then released all noodley and only his big cock inside me kept me from sliding off the edge of the table to the floor.

Then he came. A bear growl and a fierce slamming fuckthrust that knocked everything on the table over. I felt him shoot into me. Not like a regular squirt, flooding me with spunk, but like, a hose, a garden hose on "jet" just roared cum into me. Deep, thick, flowing fast. I could actually feel the force. A load like I have never seen or felt, and three or four times the amount of a regular guy's at least, maybe more.

He turned me around and slammed my butt on the table, lil legs hanging over. Smiling, he cupped my soaked cunt, his so-white sperm dripping from it and hitting the floor. He pushed fingers into me, making me squirm and moan, then smeared the spunk all over my cuntlips, up my tummy, over each nipple and the whole front of each tit, and finally, after pulling out the panty, he pushed thick spunk into my mouth. The taste was amazing...sweet like maple syrup and cinnamon, but like red wine and whiskey, too. I'm not kidding. Actual sweetness, those aren't metaphors. Fucking amazing. Sweet, magic cum.

I suckled the cream off until his fingers were dry. He laughed and with big hands on shoulders, slid me to my knees. Firm, not violent, but no doubt what he wanted. His thick cock, flaccid now, was in front of my lips. I opened wide and suckled the cock in, sucking hard, so hard to drain every fucking drop of his sweet magic spunk.

Again he laughed, amused...then he pushed my face down a bit and pointed with his black leather shoe to the floor.

Thick globs of his cream about the size of a coaster sat on the vinyl flooring. I knew what to do. And I wanted to do it. More than ever before. I bent, feathery hair covering me like a veil as I bent, legs spread so wide, folded in two, and lapped and lapped and lapped, never ever so fucking needy for cum. I lapped it right up and covered the area again, crisscrossing to leave only a thin film of saliva.

Delicious. Truly, one of the greatest tastes of any food or drink ever.

I've been pretty submissive before, and needy, but this wasn't just to obey, to please, it was to get more of that awesome jizz inside me. Everywhere he smeared me it tingled, like hot sauce. Inside me it glowed, hot, heavy, almost burning.

On Sunday I was still tingling and burning. In the past I got pretty moist constantly, but that day I was wet. Soaked my panties. I stayed stoned all day to get my mind off cum and orgasms. Then I pulled out my vibe and dildo and fucked myself stupid.

Monday at work I had to go into the bathroom three times to wipe my dripping cunt. Even my thighs were wet. I still felt the tingling glow where the spunk had touched me. This can't be happening!

Tuesday morning I woke with a sort of cramping. Not really like menstrual cramps, more burning and aching. Longing, really, a physical need. Wherever spunk had touched me and felt so tingly the day before, it burned now, it hurt. I called in sick and searched for a clinic. I didn't want to go to my doctor, not if I had an STI.

Walking to the car the world dipped and swirled all blurry and my legs gave out, like I couldn't feel them. I flopped into the grass, thank god, and not the hard driveway, and convulsed. It passed after just a moment. Fuck!

I risked driving and just went slow enough to totally annoy anyone behind me. I seemed okay, maybe feeling a little hung over. In the waiting room I dropped a magazine when the shakes hit. A kid about twelve looked at me funny, and her mother gave an embarrassed smile. What was happening?

I used the bathroom twice while waiting, not to pee but to wipe my fucking cunt. It sopped.

In the exam room I changed into that paper dress with no back and sat on the blue paper liner while the doctor asked me some questions and took my blood pressure and all that. When I lay back and spread my legs, knees up, the liner was flooded with a dark spot. She seemed concerned at a "vaginal discharge" and that got me scared. I thought it had been pussy juice.

The doc quickly confirmed it was just regular vaginal lubricant. When she touched my cuntlips to put in the speculum, my body shook and my ass rose to press to it, back arching. I moaned.

She gave me a glare. "This is not the place for a medical fetish fantasy. Do not come here to play!"

I tried to explain that I just felt so sensitive, and I didn't know why I gushed pussy juice. She continued the exam and took some swabs and even some blood. She pronounced me fit and healthy, no major STIs, everything looked normal. But blood work would take a few days.

Thoroughly embarrassed and humiliated, I took the rest of the week off and stayed stoned all day, everyday. The attacks came every hour, but didn't last long. I cried a bit. Okay, a lot.

I couldn't keep it from Luce, living in the same house, knowing each other so well.

"Just who did you fuck again at the party?"

"A vampire."

"Cass, be serious."

"Okay, there were three girls I got high with, they didn't look too happy or healthy. I need to talk to them."

Luce called her friend who had invited her, then the girl who hosted the party. Within ten minutes she had a name and number.

" 'Monica.' Yeah, that could be the blonde girl," I said. Great. The bitch leader.

I dialed.

"Hi, Cassie, I've been expecting your call. Sooner actually. You must be very strong or very stupid."

Fuck you too, bitch. "How do you know who this is?"

"You introduced yourself in the kitchen. We were all a bit stoned."

That didn't explain how she knew I'd call, or how she knew I was the caller right at this time.

"Meet me at Chester's, the one on Route 33. Don't drive yourself, you're not up for it. But come alone."

I stared at the phone as the call screen went blank. Okay.

A quick shower and an Uber and I arrived at the chain restaurant as quick as I could. Only had the shakes a couple times in the car. The driver didn't know if I was on drugs or had a condition. I didn't know either.

Monica, looking fresh and so much lovelier than at the party, had ordered two Cokes. I sat down hesitantly.

"Drink up. You need the sugar."

"Why do I need the sugar? What the fuck is happening to me?"

Monica shushed me. Tsk-tsk, swearing in a family restaurant.

"Like Trish and Chantelle and me, you're now addicted to cum."

Too many things swirled in my head. "Yeah, I like it a lot. What's that got to do with anything?"

Monica laughed. "I mean physically addicted. It's not regular spunk, Cassie. Surely you noticed it's...you know, magic. Not really magic, of course, but that's what we call it."

I didn't know what to say. My lips moved, opening and closing, but no words. Was this a joke? But that cum...

"Nic addicted you, sweetie," Monica sighed. "I called him. I saw you and thought, 'this girl needs to be a cum addict. It's what she wants without knowing.'"

"How the fuck do you get to-"

She patted my hand to quiet me, then took a sip from her soda, her full lips on the straw looking like she gave it blow job. "Maybe if I suffer, everyone suffers. Maybe I'm fucked up. Or maybe, I just thought you'd be happier."

I seethed. "You think I needed to get the shakes and fall down and-"

"You like the huge load he pumped into you? The maple syrup and whiskey taste? Have you ever tasted anything so good before, food or drink?"

I shook my head and had a sip of coke. "How is it even possible? Is it all cum or just-"

"We're not experts. We know a little from the guys who addicted us. There are a small number of guys, we call them Magic Men. I don't know how many out of a thousand, but there aren't many. Their cum is addictive. The addict needs it or suffers withdrawal, like you've been experiencing. More cum makes it all better."

"All better?"

"Not in the least." She laughed. "It takes the pain away and you feel awesome. But the next withdrawal comes quicker, lasts longer, and is more severe. So another load of cum fixes that, but it gets worse..."

Shit-shit-shit. "So there's no cure? Has anyone tried to break it?"

Monica had another sip of Coke. "Chantelle, the copper skinned girl at the party, she was the first of our circle addicted. Ended up in the hospital for three weeks.

They said she was perfectly healthy, except for the shakes and collapsing. No idea. She couldn't afford to stay in the hospital any longer, so she checked herself out and eventually tracked down her last fuck. That was Niccolo. He's more powerful than the others. His magic cum addicts faster and stronger." She smiled.

Fuuuck!

"Chantelle was all better with a load of Nic's cum. Well, she was more addicted, but the withdrawal was relieved."

"So...that's going to happen to me?"

Monica smiled. "Yes, sweetie. But I suggest you stay away from Nic for awhile. You can get a fix from other guys. Like the ones at the party. It'll make you feel better and won't be as strong as Nic."

I pulled the straw and gulped the soda down. "How long have you been...addicted?"

"Chantelle a bit longer than me and Trish, about two years."

"Is it very hard?"

"If you keep getting fixes, no. It makes you more addicted, but if you never get to withdrawal, it's all good, girl."

I nodded, thinking, about to ask a question.

"Oh, here's a story for you, Cassie...Nic has two addicts that live with him. Been addicted about four years. They can't hold down a job. Nic gets home and gets a blow job from one, she greedily takes his load. The other one he lets milk his cock dry. Which is about as much cum as a normal guy has, so it's not bad. He fucks the one who milked him before bed, lets the other one milk now. They do dabs to sleep through the night. In the morning he blows a load into the other girl's mouth, the other milks. They stay stoned through the day, and it starts again."

"And you think I want this?"

"Nic has a retired neighbor come over during the day to feed and clean the girls. As pay, he gets to fuck them. His cum isn't magic, so it has no affect against withdrawal, but it's still orgasms the girls love."

I stammered, trying to get words out.

"So, look at it this way...one day we'll all get to stay stoned, fucked, and gulp down load after load of delicious magic cum. Isn't that what you want already? It's why we go to parties."

I couldn't answer that. I mean, I couldn't disagree. I guess my fantasy deep down is being a drugged out sex slave, where it's always pleasure, pleasure, pleasure. Fuck! "What do I do?"

Monica smiled and reached into her bag. She showed me a small plastic vial in her hand. "This costs me $500, and if I just take little laps, it'll go a week." She popped the top and smeared a bit on her finger, then reached over and pushed it between my lips and into my mouth, then again and a third time.

Ohfuckingod, mmmmm it tasted sooo delicious! My tongue tingled and my throat glowed as I swallowed. In only a moment I felt tension seep away, the ache was dull now.

The waitress came storming over. Her formerly friendly expression changed to a stern, schoolmarm grimace. "No drugs. I'm calling the police!"

I panicked. I'd never even gotten a speeding ticket.

Monica rolled open her palm and showed the waitress...lip gloss.

The waitress grunted and walked away.

Monica laughed. "Used to be a magician's assistant."

"Cool!"

"Not really. He was older and just wanted to fuck me. Which I let him, but, it was complicated."

"Oh. So you must have a pretty good job to afford $500 on that."

Monica laughed. "I'm in marketing, I make decent money. But I can't afford that much on this stuff. I'm also a freelance escort."