Confessions of a Cum Slut Pt. 3-5

Chapter 3 — Dorm Life

You know what’s weird? When you go from being a senior in high school—totally chill, biggest fish in the pond, wise and sophisticated—to being a freshman in college—totally lost, insecure, minnow in a big, strange ocean. People treat you like you’re twelve years old, and you kind of feel that way. That’s sure how I felt, anyway.

Add in that I was an 18-year-old virgin, maybe a lesbian, and a cum slut who got off sucking anonymous dicks in a glory hole, and weird was too feeble a word to describe it.

I didn’t feel like I could tell anybody who I really was. I wasn’t sure I even knew. I just knew that I liked girls in a not-quite-normal way, that I needed a dick in my mouth to climax while touching myself, that I was a full-on cock worshipping cum slut, and that I thought guys were mostly dorks. Weird squared, right?

Luckily, I got into a school that my parents could almost afford, and that was liberal as all shit. So when we signed up for dorms (first year students had to live in a dorm) we had three choices: Male, Female, and Gender-Neutral / Transgender. I read the description of G-N/T, and it sounded more like Totally Confused to me.

But hey, that was me all over. So I signed up for the G/N-T dorm, ordered the LGBLT lunch special from the GNT Cafe, and checked the No Preference box for desired room mate gender. I knew I liked girls, and I knew I liked dicks, so either way, right? Besides, I figured if a guy thought of himself as at least part girl he probably wasn’t a dork.

I was only half right. All college-age males are dorks, but transgender guys are only part male, hence only part dork.

Anyway it turned out that most of the students in my dorm were actually either gender normal or gender just-slightly-confused; they just thought it was cool and PC to declare as G-N/T. Go figure. There didn’t seem to be anybody like me.

But in a way I lucked out: my room mate Lonni was a keeper. I liked her right away. She was more pretty than beautiful, with pert, bouncy tits, nice skin, and a great sense of humor. Plus she had that self assurance I was drawn to in girls. She was a funny mixture—part very girly-girl feminine: legs shaved (everything shaved, as far as I could tell), makeup, lacy blouses and heels; but part tomboy: blunt speaking, funny in a crude way sometimes, and physically assertive.

Lonni could tell I liked her, and she took me under her wing as a project—sort of an ugly duckling that she was confident she could make into a swan. I was part of her entourage. Actually I was her whole entourage, but she acted as if the rest of her following had just stepped out. She gave me the benefit of her advice, which were more-or-less marching orders for me, and she had me do little things for her: paint her fingernails, French-braid her hair… a lot like Linda Sue, now that I think of it, but nicer. I didn’t ask about her sexual orientation because I wasn’t sure of my own. I wouldn’t know how to answer my own question.

In fact, my sex life had become hypothetical. I was focusing on my classes, ignoring the yearning between my legs as much as possible. There was no sense masturbating without a cock to suck, at least for me, and I was too busy adapting to my new life to go out cock-hunting, so I just did without. But the pressure was building.

I was shy, and I pretty much kept my past to myself, even from my room mate Lonni.

But then one Friday night Lonni smuggled a bottle of vanilla vodka into our dorm room and the two of us got demurely, girlishly, falling-over wasted. She opened up and told me about her abusive father and her embarrassing crush on her scout troop leader, who turned out to be a friend of her mother’s. She cried and I cried for her. We got feeling all cozy and kind of held hands, and I got a little tingly, and it got kind of awkward, and she flat out asked me about my sexual orientation.

I didn’t know what to say, so I spilled everything. Everything. Told her my whole story.

She seemed interested and sympathetic about my submissive lesbian sex-slave phase with Linda-Sue, outraged about the way Linda Sue had used me as a cum receptacle for her boyfriend, stunned–but I think a little impressed—with my brief reign as queen Cindy of the downtown glory hole, and fascinated by my need for a cock in my mouth to successfully reach a climax while playing with myself.

“But what about fucking?” she asked with alcohol-enhanced bluntness. “Can you cum with a cock in your pussy, or with a girl eating you out?”

“I don’t really know, Lonni. I’m… I’m still a virgin. I’ve never had a cock in my pussy, only in my mouth, and the eating was strictly in one direction with Linda Sue.”

“That bitch! What a waste.” She put her hand on my knee. “I would have eaten you in a heartbeat, Cindy, if you had had a crush on me.”

“You would have? Really?”

“Cross my heart. I wouldn’t leave you swinging in the breeze if you were sweet on me and I let you hang around and do things for me.”

I crossed my legs, squirming a little. “Lonni? I do… sort of have a… a crush on you.”

“Well of course you do. Who wouldn’t?” she offered breezily.

“And you do let me do things for you. Not sex things, but…”

Lonni sobered a bit. “I do let you do things for me, don’t I? And you would do… sex things, for me, if I asked, wouldn’t you, little Cindy?”

“I’d, I’d like to, Lonni. If you wanted.”

“First things first, child. You haven’t cum in how long?”

“Since a month before school started.”

Lonni moved her tongue around in her mouth, trying to work out the vodka numbness. “Stand up,” she said.

I stood.

“Take your pants off.”

I complied. This felt familiar. I liked it.

“Panties, too. And your top.”

I wasn’t wearing a bra. My tits are small and I like to let them breathe. I stood there naked, waiting for Lonni to tell me what to do next. My pussy began to tingle in a good, good way.

“Sweet thing, you are too submissive for your own good. Fortunately, I have your best interests at heart. Now sit down on the bed, lean back with your feet on the floor, and spread your legs. I’m going to eat you all up. We’ll see if you can cum with another girl’s tongue on your clit, even with no cock to suck.”

I was so happy I almost cried. Lonni was going to help me find out who I was. I hoped I was a lesbian. I wanted Lonni to have the pleasure of making me cum with her mouth, the same pleasure I got from making a cock cum in mine. And I wanted the sweet release of an orgasm, right now. I wanted to cum so bad, I would try just about anything. So I laid back, opened my legs, closed my eyes, and let the vodka make the room spin. Lonni knelt on the carpet by the side of my bed, between my thighs.

She ran her tongue around my pussy lips, making me gasp with pleasure. This was new, and thrilling. I felt her fingers spread my lips. Her tongue circled and probed my virgin pleasure hole. It felt so good. Her tongue was warm and wet and alive, tasting me, touching me, licking me, penetrating me. She licked her way up my seam, from my now wet pussy hole up to my love button, my clitoris. I had only recently discovered that my clit wasn’t just a button, that it had a shaft, a hood, and a head. Lonni knew me better than I knew myself.

Her expert tongue slid languidly up the left side of my clit, between the hood and the shaft, probed firmly over the the top of the hood, rubbing it against my tip in a fantastic way, then quickly lapped down my right side, her tongue alternately brushing the hood against my clit and then slipping inside the hood to tongue my shaft directly. She flicked her tongue left and right across the face of my shaft from the base up to the tip, flicking my tip ever so gently, giving me a stab of sudden pleasure.

She sighed with satisfaction at my responses and lowered her tongue to my moist, seeping canal again, licking the slippery dew from my twat up over my clitoris, basting my tender nub in my own juices, again and again. I let out a slow, satisfied groan. This was exceeding all expectations.

Oh, could Lonni eat cunt! She was an artist with her lips and tongue, and my pussy was her canvas. She licked out tranquil, dreamy meadows and powerful, passionate storms. She sucked my clit into her hot mouth and hummed, slowly sliding her tongue around and around my tip. She brought me to the very edge of orgasm and held me there, in delicious torture, then backed off and did it again. And again.

Finally, she took her lips from mine and sighed. “My tongue’s getting tired, sweetie,” she confessed. I’m enjoying this, though. Are you?”

“Very, very much. More than I ever imagined.”

“But you still haven’t cum. Do you feel frustrated?.”

“Not really. Lonni, it’s SO good… well, maybe just a little, but I don’t really mind.”

“Well,” Lonni said, standing up, “you’re not a pure lesbian, in my expert opinion. Girl tongue is not enough.” She unbuttoned her lacy white blouse and freed her breasts from her tight push up bra. They were smaller than I’d thought, but still bigger than mine. And creamy, with pinkish brown nipples. She looked good.

“Let’s try this,” she said, lowering her bare tits deliciously on mine, and bringing her mouth close enough to taste each others’ breath. “Kiss me while I touch you. Give your mouth something to do.” She sucked my tongue into her talented mouth, still tasting of my juices, and went to work with her fingers on my clit.

I gasped as she vigorously rubbed my clit, holding nothing back. I sucked her tongue and felt myself starting to fall… starting to fall… and not quite falling.

After a while, Lonni stood again, looking down at my body, spread-legged, willing to do anything for her. She shook her head. “You like girls, but you’re just not a lesbian, Cindy.”

“I’m not, am I?” I was a little disappointed, but I was learning who I was. Lonni was teaching me. It was good.

“We’ll have to try something else. But first I want to explain something.” She smiled conspiratorially. “Promise not to tell?”

“Cross my heart,” I echoed her earlier promise to me.

“It’s this.” Lonni stepped back, unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it, hesitated, then took off her lace panties and, reaching down between her legs, peeled off a panty liner and freed a long, beautiful cock! It quickly swelled to a slender but respectable girth. The head was streamlined, and the same pinkish brown as her nipples. Lonni was a dickgirl, she-male, a girl with a cock. My heart fluttered.

“Oh, Lonni!” I said reverently. “It’s so pretty!”

“It is, isn’t it?” she said with a contented smile, fondly running her fingers along its length. She looked me in the eyes. “Do you think it’s pretty enough to take your virginity with?” she asked, knowing full well the answer.

I nodded, which made my head spin a little. “Oh, yes, Lonni. Please. Put your pretty cock inside me. Take my virginity. Take me. Fuck me, please, now”

I was finally losing my virginity! To a woman. Well, kind of. Someone who understood about being a woman, anyway. A she-male woman, who was warm and caring and funny, who had a pretty face, a talented mouth, soft, round breasts, smooth legs, and a firm, slender cock. What more could a girl want?

Well… I licked my lips, eyeing the head of her dick, a girl wants what a girl wants, and I wanted a taste, but there would be time for that, too, I hoped.

Lonni took a condom out of her drawer and started to put it on.

“No,” I objected. “Please. My period starts tomorrow.”

“You’re that regular?”

“Like a clock.”

“Well, it’s a risk, even if I don’t cum inside you.”

“Let it be my risk, Lonni.