Vanessa was beautiful. She was a year younger than me, 21 at the time. Taller than I’d usually go for, she was 5’9. She was Latina with a flawless caramel complexion, dark hair she usually straightened down to her shoulder blades, big mysterious brown eyes and full, luscious lips. She was thin but not too skinny, with a runway model physique, small but perky boobs and had legs that went on for days, which she showed off nicely in the tiny shorts she was wearing.
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When I first walked in the door of the party, she was walking out of the kitchen directly towards me, and my eyes lingered for a second too long on the incredible thigh gap she had between her legs. We made eye contact and I blushed, but didn’t say anything. Later that night, and with a little liquid courage in me, we ended up seated on a couch next to each other and got to talking. I thought we hit it off and asked her for her number.
When I texted her the next morning, she was mean as hell. She told me that she wasn’t interested, that she thought I was annoying and too cocky. I’d always been the laid back type, and it was a rare occurrence for me to get someone’s number at a party, so her rejection caught me off guard. I apologized for making her feel that way, wished her well and stopped talking to her. I have no idea why she led with that, but I didn’t hear from her for over a week. Then I got a text from her.
“I’m sorry. I feel bad about what I said before. I know it was really rude. Do you want to go out for a drink tomorrow night?”
I jumped at the opportunity and asked where she’d like to meet. Her idea of going out for a drink was actually splitting a bottle of wine and smoking a joint in her shitty little apartment. I didn’t mind. We talked for hours, and I had a great time, but I never got the vibe that she wanted to do anything more, so I didn’t make a move. Eventually I wished her a goodnight and headed home. She texted me the next afternoon and asked me to come over again that night.
When I arrived, I could feel a tension between us. She didn’t want to smoke or drink, and wasn’t being talkative. I started getting a bit awkward, still not picking up a sexual vibe and not knowing what to say, when she randomly asked me, “Why do you wear skinny jeans?”
“I don’t know” I replied, “it’s just what I’ve always worn.”
“They seem uncomfortable.”
“Not at all.” I said, still wondering where this was going.
“I would think you’d want to give all that dick some room to breathe.”
I stared back at her. “Who said I have ‘all that dick’.”
“Well you act like you have a big dick.” She replied. Deadpan. No smile on her face. Even though she was talking about my dick, I still felt like she wasn’t interested. “Are you telling me you don’t?”
“There’s really only one way to find out if you’re right.”
“I’m always right,” she replied. “But you can go ahead and confirm my suspicions.”
We were off to the races after that. Making out her couch, and then her bedroom. She took my cock in her hands and said, “I told you so,” before she got undressed for me. I asked her to suck my dick and she rolled her eyes.. this girl had such an attitude. But she got on her knees all the same and did her best to fit what she could of my cock in her mouth.
Her attitude had sparked something in me. She was a brat and I got a little rough with her, which was exactly what she wanted. I called her a slut and started fucking her face. She responded enthusiastically, moaning and sucking on it, letting her saliva run down my dick to drip off my balls. I noticed she was rubbing her pussy vigorously while she sucked on me. I asked her if she liked touching herself. She moaned and nodded in agreement. I told her to give me her filthy little hand, and when she obliged, I put her middle fingers into my mouth and sucked her juices off them. Then I put her on her back and pulled her little cotton panties off, revealing the cutest little tan pussy I’d ever seen, glistening with wetness and a string of grool that briefly stuck to her panties as I pulled them off. Fuck, she was hot.
I ate her pussy, and brought her to the edge of orgasm twice before stopping and teasing my lips along her lengthy thighs. I asked her if she was on birth control. She wasn’t. Fuck, I’d usually been so lucky with that, but condoms would have to do.
I put one on and eased my cock into her. Even through condom, I could feel how tight and wet she was. I fucked her gently at first, and then with increasing vigor. She loved it rough.
I’ll never forget the way her body responded to me. It was like reading a book. Her body language, her facial expressions, and her moans told me everything I needed to know. We were completely in tune with one another. As we fucked, I began pulling my entire dick out of her for a second before plunging back in. I’d tried this before with other girls, but it never got the reaction that Vanessa gave me that night. So I kept doing it. I’d fuck her hard and fast for 20 seconds and then pull out, and repeat. This only went on for a minute or two before she came.. and she came violently. Her pussy contracted tightly around my dick and then I was forcefully pushed out of her. As soon as my cock popped out, she screamed and her pussy squirted all over my dick and stomach, ejaculating warm fluids that soaked the blankets underneath.
“Oh holy shit, I did not expect you did be this good.” She gasped at me.
I was in shock. “Did you just…”
“Yeah, it’s a thing. You’ll get used to it. Now put that fucking dick back in me right now.”
To this day, Vanessa is the only squirter I've ever been with. I couldn’t believe it. Everything was soaked. I could tell some of it was urine, which really isn’t my thing, but the way she came was so insanely hot and the smell of her ejaculate wasn’t bad, so I didn’t care at all. All I wanted to do was make it happen again, and I did. I made her squirt 3 more times before she reached down and began squeezing my balls while I fucked her. Then I felt her start to slide the condom off me.
“Wait wait wait..” I tried.
“Shhhh. I just want to feel you. Don’t you want to feel me?”
I couldn’t respond as she pulled the condom off the head of my cock and then pushed me back into her pussy. Fuck, she felt incredible. Her hot, velvety wetness engulfed my entire cock as she began pulling me towards her, guiding my thrusts. This was no longer rough. This was slow and intense and overwhelming. Her pussy felt amazing and it was bringing me to the edge.
“I can’t go any longer!” I cried and tried to pull out, but she wrapped her legs around me and locked me in place. I filled her unprotected pussy with my cum and felt her pussy gush as she came on me again. We laid there panting and catching our breath for a while before reality set in on what had just happened.
She sensed my feelings. “Don’t worry. I have some plan-b.” I sighed in relief, still reeling from cumming inside her.
“We’re not done yet though. I want your mouth on my pussy until you’re ready to fuck me again.” God, she was insatiable. But I complied.
I knelt between her legs and licked her clean, taking in the taste of her arousal, the slight bitterness of urine left on her sweet pussy, and the salty-sweet taste of my own cum. As I tasted her, I had no idea just how insatiable she was, or that this would be a taste I’d come to get used to.
Vanessa and I fell fast in love, and she became second girl I fell head over heels for, and my first truly serious relationship. We dated for 3 years, and for the first 2 and half, things were great. She was my best friend, and we did everything together. Much like Daisy, we spent a lot of time fucking. Vanessa loved rough sex. She liked to be choked, spit on and degraded. I'd never experienced this level of rough sex before, but my experience with women up to that point helped me quickly get comfortable being so dominant
She also liked to be slapped. I would lay her on her back and fold her legs back, gliding my way in and out of her dripping little brown pussy, making her take all of my cock. I’d fuck her to orgasm, watch her make a mess of the bed as she squirted all over the place, and before she could catch her breath I would slap her hard across the face, before thrusting my cock back into her and giving her more. It drove her wild, and on many occasions I made her cum multiple times in rapid succession doing that. She eventually did get on the pill, which was a must, because she was a fiend for having her pussy filled.
Not learning from the past, I ignored several red flags, which is easy to do when you're having non-stop sex with a beautiful girl. For one, her attitude never improved. She had a mean streak in her, was stubborn, and a touch narcissistic. Along with those wonderful personality traits, she desperately wanted to be famous. She was a model when I met her, and had amassed a fairly large social media following of close to 30,000 followers.
"Modeling" to her, was having random photographers take nearly naked lingerie photoshoots of her and rarely getting paid for them. I didn't question it at first, because she was gorgeous, and I had no doubt she could accomplish her goals. These were the very early days of IG, and her following seemed to indicate it was working. Also like Daisy, I loved the feeling of having the girl everyone else wanted. Seeing guys simp for her in the comments of her posts. She used to show me the DM's she received and we'd laugh about them.
What became apparent over time, was that Vanessa had all the looks but none of the talent. She tried her hand at acting. She tried to be an artist. She tried to become a DJ. She tried to self publish a poetry book. She tried to do stand up comedy. I supported everything she did, but nothing she did ever led to anything substantial. She also had a group of single friends, and they all hated that she was in a relationship. She'd get together with them every few weeks and that usually meant she'd be partying and doing coke until the early morning hours, but I never worried about it, because she always came home coked out and begging for dick. Despite the red flags, I trusted Vanessa, and I don't believe she ever did anything behind my back in those early years of our relationship. She told me everything, and she was clearly in love with me. I should have known how quickly things can change.
Things took a turn for the worse when we moved in together. I took a promotion at work and was making more than I ever had, but she continued working because she valued the connections she was able to make in her industry. Another red flag, I wasn’t sure what connections she was making as a bottle service girl, but I didn’t question it. As a result, our schedules began conflicting, and we were almost never home at the same time. I'd leave in the morning, she'd return late at night, and we'd go to bed too tired to do much together. Our sex life evaporated, immediately. Twice a day became once a week, and then not at all. The sex we did have became less enthusiastic. She squirted less, and when she did it became more of an inconvenience than a turn on. Things were falling out of place.
I tried to make more of an effort. I requested a change in my work schedule. I planned a few dates. But nothing I did was seeming to work to improve our situation, and I felt her drifting. One night, she told me she was going out for drinks with her friends after work, and not to expect her home until late. I was home alone, missing her, and feeling incredibly horny. I wanted her badly that night, thinking of the sex we used to have. So I decided to wait up for her, thinking she'd be buzzed and horny and that we could reignite our flame. This would turn out to be a terrible mistake.
She came home later than normal, around 3am, and wanted to go straight to bed. I still wanted her, and even though she tried to make excuses not to fuck me, I was persistent.
She'd been clubbing, she said, and she smelled horrible. I told her I loved her musk. She told me she was tired as I kissed her neck, so I told her to relax and let me take care of her. I slipped her shorts off before she could stop me and sunk down between her legs.
Vanessa wasn't wearing any panties, but that was normal for her so I wasn't surprised by it, and she wasn't lying, she stunk of sweat. But she liked to dance, and clubs get sweaty. What I didn't notice was how stiff and silent she had gotten as I spread her legs in front of me. I didn't question anything until I ran my tongue along her pussy and sucked her clit into my mouth. The taste hit me immediately. Sweat, and salt, and urine. She didn't just stink of sweat.. she stunk of sex. I recognized the taste of cum filled pussy because I'd been eating my own cum out of her for years now. The taste.. The texture. It was undeniable. The slightly bitter taste of urine on her as well.. she only ever tasted that way after she had a squirting orgasm. I paused, unsure what to do or think. I knew in that moment, in my heart, that my girlfriend had been out all night, getting fucked, squirting for whoever had fucked her, and that she let him finish inside her.
I must have only paused for 5 seconds, but in my mind, that pause lasted forever. Denial set it, hard and fast. Thoughts rushed through my mind. “There is no way this happened. She would never. She wouldn't let me be doing this if she had. She's my best friend.” I thought about saying something, and then thought better of it. She would only deny it, and make me feel like an insecure and jealous boyfriend. We'd fight, and I didn't want all that at 3am. I did the only thing I could do in that moment.. which was to tell myself that I was wrong.
With that decision made, I sunk my face back into her cheating pussy and ate her out like my life depended on it, all while she lay there quietly. She stayed quiet while I fucked her, and I came quickly, ignoring how different she felt. Her usually warm, tightly textured grip on my cock was now slack, and slimy, and very obviously well fucked. But I chose ignorance, and added my own cum to the cocktail already inside her. I buried it in my mind, telling myself I was wrong, until she went out again a week later, and didn't come home at all.
This time she didn't tell me she was going out. She ignored all my calls. I stayed awake all night, waiting. Calling and waiting. Waiting and knowing, that she's out there getting fucked while I lay in our bed. I imagined what she might be doing, just liked I imagined Daisy fucking her ex. I made myself cum and then hated myself, over and over, obsessed with thoughts of what she was doing, until the door opened and she walked into our apartment at 8am. We fought. She told me the relationship was over. She never admitted to cheating, but she didn’t need to. It was obvious. She was a wreck, her makeup still on from the night before, smeared and ruined by dried tears. I could smell the sex on her from where she stood. As we fought, she changed her clothes right in front of me, and I could see the dried cum on her thighs. Our relationship was over, and I tried to move on, blindsided and heartbroken, but couldn't.
I spent the next week alternating between crying over her and jerking off to thoughts of her, and continuing to obsess over what must have happened. I lurked on all her friend's social media accounts, putting the pieces together until I figured out who he was. Of course, he was good looking. He was athletic. He was a musician. I could see them fucking in my head.
This was way worse that Daisy. Was it his cum that I'd tasted in her? His cum that I rubbed all over my face? I couldn't fucking believe my life, but then it got worse. I found an alternate IG account of hers in one of her friend’s follower lists. Through that account, I found another alt-IG I’d definitely never seen but recognized as hers immediately. Every post was an artsy image of her naked body, private parts only covered by shadows and angles. Her face wasn’t in any of them, but the body was undeniably Vanessa’s.
The caption for each photo was a “poem” she’d written. The oldest post was nearly a year old, and some of those poems were one’s she had shared with me in the past. Some were clearly about me. But within the last month, the frequency of the posts increased significantly, with poems I’d never seen before. Most of them were erotic. I read poem after poem, and in them, the girl I loved painted a detailed picture of the man she'd left me for. She wrote about the way her knees buckled for him when he first approached her. How hard she tried to resist. How good he fucked her when she gave into his advances. She said it killed her, to know her lover was at home alone, while she knelt before his massive cock.. and she made sure to write a lot about his cock. How she stared at his bulge before she even saw his face. How she sucked him off in his apartment. How it tears her in half when he fucks her with it. On and on she wrote.
I couldn't stop reading. Each word filling me with thoughts and feelings I hated and couldn't understand. I finally got to a poem that confirmed my worst nightmare. She wrote:
I silently cried, the night my love lay between my thighs, and pressed his lips against my secret lies. On his lips when I kissed him goodnight, I could taste the mess my other man had left inside. My heart was broken, knowing that my pussy was no longer his, but his heart was still mine.
I was shattered, but after all I'd done to that point, I figured this was my karma. Who was I to judge her? I'd been just as bad, if not worse. I'd been the other man, many times over. I'd been unfaithful myself, and although I didn't post shitty poetry romanticizing it immediately after, I knew I deserved this. Still, the pain was immeasurable. The time that followed was the darkest depression of my life. I continued to masturbate to my imagination of what happened. I'd revisit the IG page and cum to her words. I'd cum to her descriptions of the veins on his cock, and I felt endless shame and confusion for doing so. I thought about Nicole’s ex-husband and the things he’d said to me. Like him, I too had been cuckolded. But I was not a willing cuck. I didn't want this at all, so why was I masturbating to it?
I carried those thoughts, for several years. Confused about how I felt. Emotionally withdrawn. Unable to trust or form a connection, and filled with so much shame. But everything changed, when I met Maya.