Confessions of a Cum Slut Pt. 04

Chapter 4 — Twylla

I was doing pretty well in my first year of college. A few of my classes were boring, and some were hard, but I was learning a ton of new stuff, and I discovered I liked it. More importantly, I was learning to really think for myself. (Cin-dy! Cin-dy!)

My love life was going pretty good too, despite my being a semi-submissive, not-quite lesbian, with an obsessive thing for sucking cocks—and a history of inciting strangers to cum in my mouth.

Yeah, I know...

Fortunately my room mate Lonni was a semi-dominant dick-girl, a she-male with long silky hair, soft breasts, and a really pretty cock that I couldn't keep my mouth off of—everything a girl like me could want, pretty much.

Lonni loved to bury her cock in my pussy while we cuddled, and that was nice too. It wasn't romantic, really—after the first dizzy weeks, that is—and that made it easier for both of us, but it was delicious. We were cozy girlfriends, who usually ended our nights in bed together.

We had only a few rules, to keep from hurting each other: I wanted to be Lonni's only girl, and so I was. Lonni wanted hers to be the only cock that was welcome in my pussy, and I was fully content with that. If we had been a normal couple, that would have pretty much sewn things up.

But we weren't normal. We were two free spirits, sister cum sluts.

Lonni was still discovering what she liked. She was fully into the shemale-on-female thing with me, but like most women, she also had yearnings for cock to suck and be fucked by. I have a thing for cocks myself, so I understood her need. And since I couldn't fill it, I gave her my blessing to find her own.

Lonni could enjoy all the cocks she wanted, without hurting my feelings, as long as I was her only girl—her only girl-girl, that is (I didn't mind other dick-girls). Some nights she'd come in late, smelling of male sex, and we'd snuggle under the blankets and squeal about it together.

And Lonnie understood my near-insatiable need to suck cocks. So if I found something extra to suck on from time to time, well, that was all right with her, as long as I kept it out of my pussy. What I did with my mouth was my own business, unless I felt like talking about it with her afterward, girl-to-girl.

I guess when two cum sluts get together, that's how it has to be. And Lonni was actively encouraging me to explore my inner cum slut, to find out what I really liked, to experiment and test my boundaries.

Isn't that what being young is for?

So that's basically how I got involved with Twylla, and also how I ended up naked on the floor of the Delta Pi frat house.

But I'm getting totally ahead of myself.

Twylla Van Dyke wasn't exactly what her name suggests: she didn't drive a van. The night I met her, I'd walked into town to pick up a few things at an art supply store after class. The sun set on my way back, and I stopped in at a little bar that catered to the U crowd. (In my state the drinking age was 18. I pitied kids who lived where it was 21.) It was early on a Friday night, so it was busy, but not really crowded yet.

I ordered a beer, leaned on my daypack, and was idly checking out some trouser bulges—speculatively, but not very seriously—when Twylla walked in front of me, putting her crotch directly in the sight line between me and the bulge I was admiring at the moment.

Twylla didn't have a bulge, just a mound, with pussy lips shaped like a camel's toe, clearly outlined against her tight black leather pants—did I say tight? It looked like they were spray-painted on. It looked so slutty, and so good! I took a nice long look, getting a little tingle in my pussy. Then I looked up, and there she was, looking right back at me. It was obvious that she knew exactly what was going through my head.

I blushed. She didn't. She gave me a knowing, evaluating look.

"You like what you see," she said, by way of introduction. It wasn't a question.

She maintained eye contact, then broke it to look me up and down. In that moment my eyes were drawn back to that yummy-looking mound of hers. Our eyes met again and it was as if we had felt each other up. I blushed again. She didn't.

She had dark red hair that looked exotic but natural, a strong face—more handsome than pretty—and smallish, upturned breasts. She was lean, but with well-defined curves. Her lips and fingernails were painted a dark red shade that matched her hair and she was dressed, neck to ankles, in skin-tight black leather. I didn't see her tattoos until later.

She was so hot. Everyone in the place was looking at her, men and women, secretly or openly.

But she was looking at me.

She took the beer out of my hand, put it on the bar, took my arm, and walked me right out into the parking lot. The night air was damp and cool, but her lips were hot as she pressed me up against the brick wall of the building. Her tongue didn't twine with mine, it came into my mouth and took over. Her face and breasts pressed into mine. She stood against me with her legs wide, straddling my own legs.

She took my hand in hers and cupped it under her pussy, pulling my wrist upward. To someone passing by, it would look like I had grabbed her crotch and was lifting her up by it.

And I was. I hadn't initiated it—it wasn't something I would do!—but I found myself doing it anyway, under her wordless direction. She squeezed my hand with her thighs, and I squeezed back, compressing her pussy lips through the thin leather of her pants. She gave a short gasp of approval. I was passionately groping her sex now, and completely under her control.

I realized just then that I was going to do whatever she wanted—I was overpowered by my desire to please her, to satisfy her. It didn't completely surprise me—I knew I had submissive tendencies. But it caught me off guard. I had always fallen under someone else's sway gradually. No one had ever taken immediate, total control of me like this. It was disconcerting.

It was also arousing. It was actually making me wet. But at the same time, my newly developing independence and confidence drove me to rebel. I found myself giving her whatever she indicated as her desire, but doing it forcefully, not passively.

She nipped at my lips. "Oh! A tiger! I like pussycats. Come with me, pussy." So much for my rebellion.

I followed as she led me by the hand to a shiny black SUV in a dark corner of the lot, chirped it open with a fob hanging from a small chain on her jacket, opened the back passenger door, and hustled me inside. The interior was dark—no cab light came on—and roomy. She gently shoved me down into a sitting position on the thickly carpeted floor, with my back against the far door. She stepped inside, standing with her slender body directly in front of me, her legs straddling my body, her back to the still open door. It was clear she had done this before with others. But I didn't care. I wanted her to do it to me.

She took my hand and put in on a zipper that started at the top of her ass, running under her crotch and up almost to her belt. "Open me," she grated, her breath coming harder. I pulled open the zipper, exposing her pale shaved pussy through the opening of her now crotchless pants.

"Now, eat me," she demanded quietly. "Eat and suck. Come and eat me, little pussy."

She stood with her hips tilted forward, her pussy pressed against my mouth. She wrapped her fingers in my hair and guided my head. "Lick," she whispered, "Lick and suck." She began to hump my mouth, rubbing herself up and down against my lips and tongue, making me taste her, from the dark tunnel of her rich, winey cunt to her thick, engorged clit and back. "Lick, yes... Lick, yes... Lick," she prompted, establishing the pace she wanted from me.

When I was licking her in a steady rhythm—her rhythm—she angled her hips so her clit drifted across my moving tongue, and started to move her pelvis in small circles, fucking her clit with my tongue. "Mmmm," she said. "Good. That's right."

She pulled my head hard against her crotch and began to move faster, grinding her clit against my mouth in tighter circles. "Uh, uh, uh. Yes. Yes, you little trollop. Yes, slut. Fuck me with that pretty mouth. Ahh! Now suck my cunt. Suck my cunt!"

I latched my lips onto her vulva and sucked, licking her clit in the same steady rhythm, while she fucked my mouth, her hands gripping the back of my head.

And then my heart opened, and instead of letting her use me, I gave myself to her, with a will. I sucked and licked with the same rhythm, but my heart was in it. I was feeling her clit feel my tongue, and shaping myself to it, joyfully, passionately. "Yes! Yes! Oh, you beautiful cunt. You. Suck. So. Goooood. Uh. Uh! Mmmm.

"Oh! Fuck! Fuck! You little minx! you're... Uhh. Fuck..."

Her wet slipperiness increased as she shuddered and came, her hips bucking uncontrollably. I kept on sucking, moving my tongue more softly now, gradually easing as I prolonged and milked the last tremors of her orgasm.

She shifted back minutely in the low space between the seats, wiping spittle from her lips with the back of her hand. She zipped up, shaking but trying not to show it. "Fuck." she said shakily. "You. You're really something."

I had worshipped her clit like a cock, and drawn the same satisfaction from squeezing every trembling iota of her orgasm out of it. She backed down out of the still open passenger door, the chill night air rushing in, contrasting with her heat, and offered me her hand to help me up.

"You in a hurry to be somewhere?" she asked, as I climbed down out of the SUV.

I shook my head. I hadn't spoken a word yet. I didn't want to spoil it now. She nodded. "Let's go for a ride, then." She closed the back door, opening the front passenger door for me courteously. "You can ride shotgun."

I climbed wordlessly into her SUV, shrugging off my daypack for her to catch. She gracefully caught it and tucked it down by my feet as I buckled in. "Your loftiness," she intoned, bowing sardonically, but smiling. She got behind the wheel and we went for a ride.

She drove us up a winding, two-lane road that climbed up through dark trees, then opened onto a curve with a broad shoulder overlooking the town. She pulled off, and I looked down at the view, while she looked at me. The city lights glistened in the mist. It was cold and empty and beautiful, which I was suspected was also true of my companion. She had, you know, just pussy-fucked my mouth—with my enthusiastic cooperation, yeah, but not my actual consent.

"What gets you off?" she asked. "You like eating pussy, I can tell. You're good at it, too," she acknowledged. "But it isn't your cunt's heart's desire... You're a submissive, but you're no slave. You're not looking for a master. And you've got that fucking Spark."

I sat silently, watching the view, while she tried to figure me out. As she talked, I began to figure myself out, little by little.

"And you're not wetting your panties waiting for me to eat you, I can tell that, too. You want me to dominate you, but on your own terms."

She squinted at me, speculatively. "What is it that you're hoping I'll make you do, pussy?" She laid her hand in the V of my crotch, and began to massage it. I spread my legs a little to give her easy access.

"What gets you off?" she repeated. "Not this," she said, squeezing my clit against the side of my labia. I squirmed in languid pleasure. "You like it though. Yeah," she said, unzipping my pants and fingering my pussy and clit aggressively. "You like it but it doesn't take your breath away."

She thrust her finger fully up inside me and flexed it, while she brought her face close to mine. "I want to take your breath away," she breathed, her exhalation hot in my ear. She began to work her finger inside me with every word. "What. will. it. take. Pussy? What. Do I have. To make. You. Do?"

And just like that, I knew what I wanted from her. Or thought I did. I took hold of her wrist and gently guided it up and down, humping my hips to fuck her fingers. "I want you. To eat my cunt. In front of a line of men. Who are fucking my mouth. I want you. To make me cum. Over and over. While you make me. Eat their semen. I want you. To suck my clit. While men stroke their cocks. And cum. All. Over. Me." I pulled her hand out, and sucked her fingers clean, one by one. "That's what it will take, for you to take my breath away."

I looked her in the eyes. "Make me do that, and I'll be your willing slave, for one night. For that night, I'll do whatever you want, let you do anything to me that your cunt's heart desires."

She was breathing hard, already doing things to me in her imagination. "What's your name, pussy?"

I laughed. "Cindy the First, Gloryhole Queen of Squalor Park." I offered my hand. "Naughty to meet you."

We were both laughing. She gave me her hand, her fingers still damp from our encounter. "I'm Twylla Van Dyke," she announced.

"Well, of course your are."

She laughed again, throatily, starting the SUV and pulling back onto the road. "Oh, the things I'm going to do to you," she said hungrily.

"But first, I'm going to give you your cunt's desire. To take your breath away."

Her breathing grew ragged again. "I'm going to love watching you beg for it. And I know you're going to love begging."

I trembled a little, I was so turned on—from my hard nipples to my dripping slit. Was I insane?

She smiled, wickedly. "So you like cocks. You want a room full of pricks?

"I know just the place."

She drove on in silence. I sat beside her, frightened and aroused, wondering what I had gotten myself into, trusting my inner cum slut to guide me.

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Chapter 5 — Delta Pi

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We pulled into a circular driveway in front of a mansion that had seen better days. The house and grounds were in decent shape, casually tidy but far from manicured. There were two large greek letters above the door, a triangle and a pair of vertical lines topped with a wavy one: Delta Pi.

It was a frat house, one with a nasty reputation. I'd been warned about it by Lonni. "You might get something you like there," she'd said, "but you might get a lot more besides. They don't always take 'no' for an answer once they get a girl behind closed doors."

"I've heard about this place," I said to Twylla, trying to keep the concern out of my voice.

"Worried?" she asked, seeing right through my calm pose. She grinned. "You should be. If you came here alone, looking for a bunch of guys to suck off, you'd get what you were looking for, all right, and be sorry you asked—probably wake up on the lawn at 4:00 a.m, with cum dribbling out of your ass and 'whore' written on your forehead in marker, or something worse. Shit happens here sometimes. Girls complain, but nothing changes. The little pricks are connected, protected by their rich daddies."

"Why do girls still come here, then?"

"Same reason we're here, puss. Lots of willing cocks. Rich, young, well-dressed, athletic cocks, for girls who care about that." She snorted derisively. "Most do. So they come." She shrugged. "Girls with no leverage sometimes wish they hadn't."

"You have leverage?"

She led me to the front door with a swagger. "Oh, yeah. They know me. We party sometimes, and I scare them. I know too much about these dickwads for them to fuck with me.

"Besides, I have a rich daddy, too. Nowhere near as rich as these walking dicks', but mine is a lawyer for the mob. If they lay so much as an unwanted finger on me, Daddy Will Sue. If he wins in court, he'll take their little trust funds away. If he loses... daddy gets very angry when he loses. Things get damaged," she smiled maliciously.

I shuddered. She laughed. "That's the spirit, little pussy queen. Welcome to the well-named DP house, the place that hold's your cunt's big, stiff, spurting desire, and so much more.

"Seriously though, don't wander off. And don't accept anything to drink. Not unless it comes from the tip of a cock," she added dryly.

I straightened my shoulders. I was pushing my boundaries, I told myself, exploring. Celebrating my inner cum slut. Whatever happened, I was going to find out more about who I was, and what I wanted.

I had told Twylla what I thought I wanted, but how would I feel when it actually happened? My fear was overlaid with a growing erotic thrill. What had Twylla called it? My cunt's heart's desire. It might not be what I'd find, but it was finally what I knew I was looking for.

A handsome, well-groomed young stud answered the door, saw Twylla, and opened the way mock-courteously, gesturing us in. "Ms. Van Dyke," he greeted her. "Always a pleasure."

Twylla gave him a dangerous look. "Usually a pleasure," he amended. "None of our brothers have offended you, I hope."

"Your very existence offends me, Chaz. But don't worry; tonight it's pleasure. For you, if you like, and, say, six or twelve of your brothers."

Chaz licked his suddenly dry lips and looked at me speculatively. "So many?" he asked, getting excited. "She's so... little."

Twylla grinned. "Little and tight and mine, to do with as I please. Tonight, a little humiliation is on the menu. She's going to strip naked and play with herself in front of you all, then I'm going to eat her cunt, while the lot of you take turns fucking her in the mouth. Jack off on her if you want. Cum on her face, her sweet little tits. Hell, giver a cum shower. I'll have her wanting it. She'll be begging to suck your dicks dry and lick them clean."

Chaz was practically shaking. I smiled to myself. Guys. So predictable, in some ways. "Yes," he answered. "Yes, absolutely. Come upstairs. The Blue Room, I think. Yes, definitely. I'll gather the flock." He hesitated. "Would you like a drink?" he asked with hooded eyes.

Twylla laughed in his face. "Do I look stupid, Chaz?"

"No. No, definitely not. Crazy and dangerous, yes, but stupid? No." He admired her leather-clad figure. "And may I say, very sexy tonight?"

"You may. Tonight and every night. Enjoy the sights, but don't get carried away. If a little cum splashes off pussy here and lands on my leather, she'll lick it off. But if one of your brothers deliberately shoots his spunk on me, I'll have his testicles in my mouth. And he won't like it."

"Well," said Chaz, "I think we've established the ground rules for our little soiree." He gestured upstairs, and eyed me with undisguised lust. "Let the fun begin."

The so-called Blue Room was large, heavily curtained, and not blue. It was flooded with dim red light and long black shadows from a single, bare, scarlet bulb. Chaz excused himself and left me alone with Twylla.

She shook a black silk blindfold from her jacket and tied it around my eyes. I instantly felt more vulnerable, more dependent on her, and more sexually aroused.

She fastened a leather collar around my neck. She unbuttoned my blouse and put small clips on my nipples. They didn't hurt, but they stimulated me almost too much. This was intended as humiliation, but I wasn't humiliated. I was exhilarated. She put her hands inside my blouse and ran them over my breasts and belly. We started making out, her tongue again aggressively taking possession of my mouth, her hands occasionally tugging gently on my nipple clips, dragging me toward the border between extreme pleasure and mild pain.

I was completely in her hands. She could change the rules at any time and I would be helpless. She could do anything to me. Anything at all. She squeezed my crotch and I almost came. This was making me so hot.

There was a gradually building rustle and murmur in the room as Twylla kissed, licked, and bit me everywhere from my blindfolded face to my belly button, paying special attention to my mouth and breasts. Then she took the blindfold off. Men ringed the room, tall and sexual in the red light, casting long, dark shadows.