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Ride Her Rough

A true confessional of a self diagnosed sex addicted continued.

By Samantha JamesPublished 7 years ago 4 min read
Art by LouiJoverArt

As I sit like a queen on my flesh throne, I am thriving.

Everything in me is full of light and I am shining.

This makes me feel alive. I am living every moment fully and recognizing every feeling, this is what I crave.


His hands are everywhere, up my back, up my stomach, down my thighs, in between my thighs. I can feel his calluses and they are hard against my soft skin, reminding me of real life. I throw my head back as I continue to rock my hips harder against his pelvis, his hand caresses my neck. I lean forward and take his fingers into my mouth, he must occupy every part of me he can.

I can hear him moaning and calling me sweet names, but all I can focus on is the feeling inside me, I am moving quickly against his shaft, then slowing, stimulating my clit against him.

I am loud, he knows I am being pleasured. He can see it, and feel it in the way I grab at his chest hair and scrape my nails across his abdomen. I am rocking harder, and harder, until I hear him exclaim "I am going to cum" and I grab hold as his body lurches upward into my body, his cock so deep I feel as though I have lifted off him, exploding into a million pieces as we come together. I feel as though I am no longer on this planet.


I hear my phone go off in the other room and I am tempted to leave it. I told myself today was for me. I have given myself time to revel in my own body and fall in love with her every crevasse. However, this is the 4th time it has gone off in 15 minutes and I am intrigued.

As I wake it up, there he is, Brad.

"I am addicted to you."

Shivers down my spine make a small moan escape my lips, and I close my eyes. There he is, below me, looking at me as though I was an angel. I told myself long ago, when I diagnosed myself as a sex addict, that I would only stay with a partner that truly understood me, and that I would only have sex with someone more than once if they knew who I really was. But, I never told Brad.

My fingers are moving before I open my eyes...

"Are you free around 9 PM?"


As I tell myself to forget about putting shoes on, since Brad will be arriving at my house any minute, I sit down and light a joint. The first inhale fills my throat and I cannot help but be reminded of other things filling it as well. I hold my breath and exhale long and slow. Another drag, another need. I let me hand wander down my leg and find the edge of my skirt. I pull on it, and fiddle with it, enjoying the soft touches as my knuckles graze my thigh. I feel light today, as though the sun has charged me. My skin feels soft and warm, and when my hand reaches my breast and clasps the roundness firmly, the doorbell rings.

Before I am able to reach it, it opens and in steps Brad, I am amazed once again at how he can make my heart stop with just one look at him.

Most people would love for me to say that we sat down, enjoyed a dinner and talked the rest of the evening about my self diagnosis till we fell asleep in each others arms. However, it was quite the opposite.

It was not I that tore off Brad's clothing, but himself. His shirt was off and he was thrusting me over his hips before I could set down my joint. My legs naturally locked behind him and when his lips touched mine, I was lost to the world. My fingers found his hair as my tongue danced with his. Brads hands found my ass under my skirt and squeezed hard, at the same time his teeth came down on my lips and made me yelp in ecstasy.

He turned and locked me against the wall, his hand now up my shirt and frantically working my nipple. He pulled away:

"Do you never wear a bra?"

I giggled as his mouth moistened my taught skin and his teeth nicked my rigid nipple. I gave in, and let my body shake with pleasure. Brad removed me from the wall and laid me on the couch, his breathing heavy and hot against my neck. He kissed my collarbone, and moved down to my chest. He pulled my shirt up and over my head, locking my hands behind my neck. He kissed along my ribs, and I inhaled sharply as he bit onto my belly ring and gave a slight tug, something shocking and new. My body squirming under him from his soft, teasing touches.

When he was at my hips, he sat up, and grabbed them with both hands. I loved the way his large hands squeezed my wideness, and how his erection throbbed as he did so.

"Your body is everything I have ever needed, and did not know."

As he continued moving down my body, I could feel myself starting to melt. My mind leaving my body and him taking over. His mouth reached my mound and I arched hard against him, wanting him to taste all of me. His mouth felt like velvet on my lips, and when he pinched my clit between his, I cried out his name.

I was his, my body told me to give myself to him, and that he wanted me. He wanted me to be addicted to him, and he was stronger than I was.

eroticfetishesrelationshipssexual wellnesstaboo

About the Creator

Samantha James

Since some of my very first memories consist of sexual dialogue that included the scientific and natural aspect of it all, and it seems as though I have never stopped talking about it... it just feels right, I must be a sex addict.

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    Samantha JamesWritten by Samantha James

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