Over Cum Addiction

And at that moment the world went black.

Literally.

All the lights in the house went out and, from the sound of it, Steven stopped his penis massage.

"Shit," he said, "the storm must have knocked out the electricity in the neighborhood. It looks like the street lights are out too."

"I'm glad you lit a fire. At least we can see a little in this room."

"Aw hell. I forgot about the plywood I bought. I was going to fix that little gazebo in the backyard and if I don't put a tarp and some weight on the plywood, well, who knows where it'll wind up. It could come flying through the kitchen window."

"Bummer," I said.

He quickly tucked his rapidly softening cock into his pants, put on a heavy rain slicker and ran into the kitchen and out the back door.

I sat there for some time in semi-dark solitude. Except for the whistling of the wind, it was extremely quiet in the house. Outside was a different story. It was really coming down. After being so focused on the half a brownie, I turned to gaze at the fire. The wind, slapping the rain against the windows and making quite a racket, only enhanced the contrasting cozy warmth of the fireplace illuminating the room in a shimmering golden hue.

After a few moments I asked myself what the hell I was doing. I questioned why I was here and I questioned my sanity.

But then I looked back at the friggin' brownie and I realized that what I wanted was to watch Steven's cock come all over it. I was conflicted about why and especially what I would do when I saw it. Yet I knew it would trigger my own orgasm. That was a given.

Unconsciously I licked my lips.

As Steven came back in from the kitchen, what I would do next was still open to internal debate.

"Jeez. What a night. It's a mess out there. I was lucky there was no damage so far, but it was good that I took care of it. Now it's getting really cold, so cold that I think it might snow later." He tossed the slicker on a chair and almost ran back to the table. "Now. Where were we?"

"I said that I wanted to watch you come on the brownie, Steven. It's too bad there's barely enough light to see anything."

He agreed and after collecting a few candles sitting in spots around the room, appropriate for just such an occasion, he lit them, placed a couple on the table and a the rest back where they'd been.

I dropped my head to about tabletop level. Before I knew it, his cock was out and his hand was rubbing it briskly. It was aiming at the brownie, right in front of my face and just a couple of inches below its head.

"I'm getting close."

"I know, I know. Just shoot, damn it. Come on. Cover that thing with cum. Frost that damn brownie!"

"The things I do for you..."

Now he didn't have to say a thing. I knew that he'd be shooting in the next few seconds. I didn't realize though, that I had one hand on one of my bra-confined breasts, pulling a little bit on its erect nipple and the other hand pressing against my pants in the neighborhood of my clitoris. And I remember hearing the sound of a woman excitedly moaning. I have no idea who that could have been!

I really was looking forward to seeing this. It had been a long time since I'd seen it. I was hot and I was horny. Watching a cock come was exactly what I needed. Or maybe it was the minimum I needed. I just wasn't sure.

A moment or two later three things happened in rapid succession. In fact, they almost happened simultaneously, but each of the three was a surprise.

First - and best of all - Steven started to come by candlelight. (I think "Come by Candlelight" should be the name of a torridly melodramatic and X-rated soap opera. That's just me, always the romantic.) As expected, seeing the first big spurt shoot out onto the brownie started a dynamic climax in me.

Next, the electricity suddenly came back on and the brownie, with Steven's pulsing cock shooting gobs of delicious thick white cum on it, was now well-illuminated.

Third, and for me the most surprising, there were two guys I didn't recognize, about Steven's age, standing by the doorway leading into the kitchen and watching the show.

I suppose in any other setting they would have scared the pants off me. (Truthfully, I was so wet that with just a little tug they would have slid off quite easily.) But somehow it just seemed to be part of this evening's "Steven Show." I'd seen his cock come thousands of times mostly without, but occasionally with, other guys around. So two strange men standing and watching him ejaculate on half a brownie did not seem unfamiliar or outré in the least.

Disregarding the new comers, I remained focused on current comer's continuing climax aimed at the now well-illuminated brownie. I also just let my own extended orgasm roll over me as I clenched my whole body in reaction.

I was also pleasantly surprised at how much his cock was spewing over the brownie. I think just his first three or four shots had delivered enough cum to cover the entire top of the brownie. With the rest of them it appeared that he was trying to cover the sides too.

That damn brownie was such a turn-on. It actually caused me to salivate (Jeez, I was just like Pavlov's dogs!) as I continued to climax, wave after wave of sexual pleasure washing over my entire body.

When he finally stopped shooting I glanced up and saw that the two guys hadn't budged. They seemed to be staring in wide-eyed amazement at the brownie and me.

I too was staring, at least at the brownie and the string of cum dripping off the head of his cock. It looked so tasty. I was sorely tempted to suck it up.

But then I remembered what had begun this whole crazy thing and decided against it. I was here, I told myself, for the cum-on-the-brownie display. And on that, Steven had delivered. Abundantly. (In addition to his beautiful cock, that was another thing I had always enjoyed about his sexual gifts. He was a consistent and good-sized comer.)

So, there I was. Watching the little string of delicious white fluid dripping off the end of Steven's cock and enjoying the aroma of the layer of cum he'd delivered onto the brownie. Now, to be honest, it was not a full-sized brownie. If I had to guess, it was probably the size of a credit card. But, to his credit, there wasn't one square millimeter of dry brownie. He'd laminated the entire thing.

It sounds gross to describe it - even when I say it - but I loved looking at semen. There were the big, thick globs of it mixed in with the thinner stuff. It was pearly white and shiny and looked so sexy just sitting there. I could almost hear it calling to me: Suck me, drink me.

"Good job. Very nice!" I said to him. "Why don't you flick that last little bit on top?"

"You sure you don't want to suck the last bits out of my cock?"

"Steven, please, you have guests," I said.

"Oh yeah. Hey, guys. This is an old friend, Patrice. Patrice, I'd like to introduce you to Gabe and Owen."

They both said hi. I waved and gave them a smile.

"What kind of..." the one on the right started and then stopped.

"Holy fuck. Are you going to eat that?" the other one said.

"I wasn't planning to. I just wanted to see if he could cover the top of it," I said.

"'Cause if you want, I could add some more. I mean, if you want me to. I'd love to see you eat that thing with my cum on it too."

"Oh shit, I forgot: Abby's out parking the car," the one on the right said. "She gives a good enough blowjob, but she's just not into some of this kinky stuff. She'd probably freak if she saw that."

It was then that we barely heard, over the noise of the wind, the back door open and a woman saying, "It's blowing up a storm out there. Hey, Owen. Where are you guys?"

There was a volley of glances among the four of us. I glanced at Steven. He glanced at me. Owen and Gabe glanced at us and then Owen glanced at the cum-covered brownie. Steven's and Owen's looks were tacitly imploring me to do something so that Abby "wouldn't freak."

I had told myself that I wasn't going to get sucked into this weird behavior again and yet here I was. Moment of truth and all that.

Without thinking I just picked up whole sloppy, shiny cum-frosted brownie and took as big a bite as I could, which turned out to be almost all of it.

My mouth was absolutely full with the rich taste of chocolate fudge and chocolate brownie cake and the strong, salty taste of cum. And just in time too, because at that moment three things happened simultaneously - again.

First, the woman whose voice I'd heard, walked in between the two guys and said, "Hey, what's happening?"

Second, Steven turned away from his view in profile and quickly tried to tuck his cock back in his pants.

Third, I had another incredible orgasm as I heard myself call out something erudite - like "Yeow!"

The woman, who I guessed to be Abby, came over, extended her hand and said, "Hi. I'm Abigail. Call me Abby. What's that? It looks good. You a friend of Steven's?"

There I was, trying to savor the strange, exotically unique taste of chocolate and semen, enjoying the throes of a climax, and this interloper just wants to chat me up. Like I'm going to share the last bite of this cum covered delight. Dream on, sister.

I continued chewing and still enjoying the flavors, but attempting to get my climaxing body under control. I looked up and, with a grin, nodded to her.

And as soon as enough of the brownie was swallowed, I popped the rest of it into my still chewing mouth.

Owen, finally able to respond, said, "Hey, babe. Steven brought home Patrice and she was hungry so he gave her a brownie he had."

Good save. I hoped.

"Well, I missed lunch today. I could eat. Too bad you didn't get enough for all of us," said Abby. "That brownie looked good. You don't see them with frosting too much. Talk about gilding the lily! None left, huh?"

Upon first impression, I'd say Abby was a talker.

Gabe finally said, as he appeared to surreptitiously arrange his cock in his pants, "That's what we said, too. It looked really rich. Too bad Steven was so selfish."

"Hey, I didn't know you guys would be home so early," Steven said.

As the conversation went on, fortunately I was able to finish my cum-covered chocolate treat in peace, enjoying every perverted bite of the strange mixture of cum-imbued baked goods. I'd not had it often, but I was not a stranger to the taste either.

Finally, I finished chewing and looked at Abby. "Hi. Nice to meet you."

As my hand was reaching up to shake hers, I saw that there were some globs of cum on my fingers. Without even thinking I pulled back my hand and licked those globs of cum off of my fingers. Then I wiped my hand on the napkin and reached up to shake her's.

"Mm, mm," I managed to hum as I relished the last few tastes.

"Yeah, the frosting is the best part," Abby said. "I'm sorry there's none left. I'm so hungry I probably would have eaten all of it myself."

Did she actually figure out what was on the brownie and was she just pulling our collective leg? Probably not.

The guys and I exchanged quick, furtive glances, tittering behind staid faces.

"Would you excuse me?" said Abby and turned to leave the room.

The moment she was gone and we heard a door close, Owen said in a loud whisper, "Jeez. That was close. I know it's your house, Steven. Still, I don't know what you thought you were doing but from now on, please keep it in your pants when Abby's here."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry. You're right," he said. "We weren't expecting you guys and this just kind of happened."

"Most things that just kind of happen don't include jerking off on a brownie - for your friend's amusement," Owen responded. Then he added "And consumption."

With a look of realization, Gabe said, "Oh. You're Patrice! You're the one..."

Apparently my history with Steven had not been erased in his mind. And, the dear had shared at least some of it with his friends.

Great. I have the reputation that will follow me for the rest of my life: I'm the girl who begged guys to jerk off in her mouth.

Owen looked at Gabe and then at Steven. Next he eyed me, trying to see my breasts. With a big baggy sweater I had on, it was pretty impossible to know exactly how big was my chest. Yet my breasts do have a tendency to cry out, "Yoo, hoo. Look at us. Here we are."

Apparently he decided - even without getting a good view of my torso - that I had to be the one.

Then Owen said, "Oh man. That's right. You are the one - "

At that moment we were all more than a little surprised by Abby's reentrance into the dining room.

"The one who what?" she asked.

7:01-8:00 Girl Talk

Although Steven's two friends had obviously heard the stories, Abby seemed completely unaware. Hence her question: "The one who what?"

It was a reasonable question. She'd left the room to use the bathroom for just a few moments. In her absence, Owen and Gabe had both realized that I was Steven's former girlfriend. "The" former girlfriend. The former girlfriend who had some sort of weird addiction to sucking cocks and especially to semen.

It hurt that he'd kissed and told - although here, I was the one who did the kissing (and licking and throating and slurping and drinking) and he was the one who arranged for all of it. So then, for this little attempt at witticism, he was the one who had done the telling.

The one who what? How do you answer such a question? What was there to say?

I certainly wasn't going to say that I was the one who'd sucked off guys - many, many guys - at parties that Steven used to throw. In fact, I was the life of the party.

There's a word for me. What's the word? Of course, there's slut, whore, harlot, tramp and all those other old favorites, but to be more true to fact I was, in popular terms, a cum-dump. The name sounds so, so, inane with its two syllable rhyme. (Although, it might be more accurate to refer to myself on those occasions as a cum-sump. But when you're drinking a large quantity of semen... Well, who cares? Cum-dump, cum-sump, cum-dump-sump. What's the diff?)

But picture a woman in street clothes or maybe just bra and panties with her too-large-for-her-frame breasts on her knees on the floor with an open mouth, tongue extended out over her lower lip, and somehow still smiling, desperately urging men to come to her when they're ready to climax and then to ejaculate on her tongue, in her mouth. Better yet, picture her having an almost nonstop orgasm for the entire time the men are getting their rocks off in her mouth.

So, in answer to Abby's "The one who what?" No. I was not going to volunteer that I was such a woman.

In fact, as I said, I was disappointed, disheartened and embarrassed, when I realized that Steven had told Owen and Gabe.

Fortunately, Steven was able to put a context to the Abby's surprise arrival and an answer to the question, "The one who what?"

"Um, Patrice is an old friend, Abigail. She was the one who helped me study for my license exams. I couldn't have passed them without her help."

Abby looked at me and I could see something like gratitude in her eyes. "That was so good and kind of you to help Steven. I remember Owen telling me that Steven had a lot of stuff going on in his life while he was studying for them. You must be a very close friend."

There wasn't much to say, or at least there was nothing more I wanted to add, so I simply said, "Thank you, but Steven did all the work."

And even as the words came out of my mouth, a little part of my brain, the part not obsessed with cocks and their deliverables, said to me, "Yes, Steven did all the work making more than a few bucks, not telling you that he was collecting money from every guy whose dick you sucked. You, ignorant of that fact, just sat there and enjoyed each and every drop."

There was definitely something wrong with this picture. But at that moment I suppressed the voice from that part of my brain. Instead, I just sat back and was still enjoying the strange and distinctive tastes of chocolate and semen lingering in my mouth.

As I've said, it was all very confusing.

It felt like the best thing for me to do was to call it a day. I said goodbye to everyone, even to cries of "No. Stay." I bundled myself against the storm and made it to my car, but when I tried to start it, nothing. It didn't turn over. No lights. No horn. Nothing.

Just what I needed!

It was getting nastier outside. The last thing I wanted was to be out in this very cold, wet, windy evening. Shit!

I took a few deep breaths in futile attempt at staying calm. After several breaths, I bundled myself up again, left my car and made it back to the house. After explaining my problem, the gang threw on all of their inner layers and rain gear and came out to my car. We tried... Well, the guys tried everything they could think of but to no avail. After determining that I needed to get professional help, we started to return to the warm, dry house.

As I mentioned earlier, there were rumblings of cost cutting at my office. "Cost cutting" was another way of saying "your job's in jeopardy," so the last thing I wanted was the expense of a tow truck in addition to a repair bill. In a very casual, off-handed manner, Gabe said that once the storm let up, he'd drive over to his house to get jumper cables. I thanked him. We all entered the house and moved to sit in front of the fireplace.

Again, a tiny voice was telling me that what I'd done with the brownie, while not exactly the best thing I could have done for my delicate psyche, could still be considered a fluke. Now that I'd done it and had a dose of the licentious behavior I'd worked hard to put behind me, it would be best to remove myself from the source, i.e., Steven and his buddies. Go home, the voice said. Go home now.

I didn't listen.

After a few moments of slightly awkward silence, Steven said, "Believe it or not, I've been working on improving my home-making skills as well as my culinary talent. So I made some mulled wine yesterday. Give me a few minutes to warm it up and add some more fresh nutmeg. Who wants some?"

The brief power outage had caused the house to cool quickly. Even now the furnace was having a hard time getting the house back to its former temperature. With the storm raging outside, the four of us remained by the cozy fireplace as Steven went into the kitchen.

In a few minutes I learned that Gabe and Owen were old friends but had only met Steven earlier this year. Abby had been dating Owen for three months. A simpatico group it was - one that was not around for my cum-drinking binges. Yay me!

Steven came in with a tray that included glasses, a big ironstone pitcher of steaming red wine, a shot glass and a quart-sized bottle of a clear liquid with a label I couldn't read. The fragrance coming from the wine was unmistakable and hinted at the imminent holiday season. He proceeded to pour in four shots of the clear liquid.

"This stuff is more than 150 proof. It's a key ingredient in the recipe for this mulled wine. I used some when I made it, but a little more can't hurt. Consider yourselves warned!"

Then he poured one more shot into the pitcher.

In a short while the wine and the fireplace had an effect on us all. Everyone, now quite toasty, began removing outer layers.

And soon I was becoming uncomfortably warm. It had been cold this morning and it was always freezing in my office so I put on a tight fitting cotton sweater and then a big baggy sweater over it. It was my intention to remain dressed that way all day.

Never quite comfortable with my body, but still accepting of it, on those rare occasions where I chose to emphasize any of my so-called assets I would only do it to one at a time. (That day it had been my butt, which I thought looked cute in those pants.) You see, in my rather nutty brain I thought of myself as "too" in several ways. I was too tall. I had breasts that were too, too large. I had too-slender hips and a butt that was too small. And I had legs that were too long.