Confession: I Became Addicted to Oral Sex

My name is Abril, and this is one of those stories I still remember with a mixture of embarrassment, horniness, and a silly grin. I was already an adult woman when it all happened, but I still had that absurd nervousness of someone discovering a new turn-on and unable to think about anything else. After my first serious sexual encounter, there was one thing that stayed lodged in my mind more than any caress: sucking cock.

It wasn't romance or innocent curiosity. It was hunger. A physical, obsessive, almost ridiculous need. I woke up thinking about a cock in my mouth and fell asleep going over the sensation of having it hard on my tongue, its weight in my hand, its salty taste, the wet sound of my lips moving up and down.

I spent the next two days like that, horny and distracted. I could barely concentrate at work, and whenever I was alone, I went to the bathroom to wet my fingers while thinking about kneeling in front of someone again. I didn't want a boyfriend, I didn't want a date, and I wasn't even sure I wanted to fuck. What I wanted was to suck cock again.

I told my friend Nerea because she was the only person I talked to about sex without filters. She was one of those women who aren't shocked by anything; she laughed at my nerves while encouraging me to enjoy myself. We met midmorning at a café near downtown, and as soon as we sat down, she fixed me with that smile of a good friend's little slut who already knew I was hiding something.

“All right, spill it,” she said. “You look like you've done something crazy.”

“Not something crazy,” I replied, lowering my voice. “But something that left me in a bad way.”

“Bad because of guilt or bad because you want more?”

I looked at her, and we both burst out laughing. Then I told her everything. I told her about my first encounter, how surprised I was to enjoy having a cock in my mouth so much, and how I'd spent two days thinking about doing it again with someone else.

Nerea set her cup down on the saucer and opened her eyes with genuine enthusiasm.

“So you're horny, and what you want isn't to lose your head over some guy, but to swallow a good cock.”

“Put that way, it sounds awful.”

“Put that way, it sounds exactly like what you just confessed.”

I couldn't deny it. I covered my face for a second, dying of laughter and embarrassment.

“Yes,” I admitted. “I want to suck someone off. Very badly.”

“Perfect,” she said, as if we were organizing a shopping trip. “Then there's a solution.”

I thought she would just tease me for a while, but Nerea was already running through names. She mentioned a couple of men we knew, ruled one out because he was annoying and another because he was a loudmouth, and finally brought up Gael, a friend of her boyfriend's who had always seemed handsome to me. Dark-haired, tall, an easy smile, big hands. The kind of man who didn't need to show off because he knew perfectly well what effect he had.

“No way,” I told her. “Besides, I'm sure he's not interested in me.”

“You don't need to marry him, Abril. You just need a willing mouth and a clean cock.”

“You're impossible.”

“And you're wet. Don't argue with me.”

That was where the conversation ended—or so I thought. But that very afternoon, Gael texted me. His message was short, almost elegant, and that made me even hotter.

“Nerea says you want to talk to me. Is that true, or is she getting me into trouble?”

My ears burned. I called Nerea to chew her out before replying, but she didn't answer. So I took a deep breath and typed as best I could.

“Your friend is exaggerating. Don't listen to her.”

He took less than a minute to reply.

“Then she exaggerates very well, because it doesn't sound like a bad idea.”

I stared at the screen like an idiot. I didn't know whether to tell him to fuck off or play along. In the end, I chickened out.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“All right. When you're ready to stop pretending, let me know.”

That message screwed with me for the rest of the week. Not because it was offensive, but because he was right. I was pretending. Pretending to be sensible, pretending to be serious, pretending my legs didn't tremble every time I imagined Gael unbuttoning his pants in front of me.

On Saturday, Nerea threw a party at her house. Nothing too big: a few couples, close friends, music, drinks, and the excuse of celebrating her boyfriend's promotion. I went knowing Gael would probably be there, and that one detail alone kept me in front of the mirror for two hours. I didn't dress provocatively; I dressed to feel confident. Tight jeans, a black blouse, perfume on my neck and wrists, and pretty underwear in case the night turned in the direction I wanted.

When I arrived, he was already there with a glass in his hand. He looked up, held my gaze a second longer than usual, and gave me the slightest smile. He didn't come over right away. I liked that. He didn't act desperate or like a hunter. He simply let me know he'd seen me and that he had time.

The night heated up slowly. Louder music, stronger drinks, dirtier comments. At some point, someone suggested a game of dares, and half the people joined in laughing. Kisses, uncomfortable truths, little tests of courage. Nothing extreme, but enough to loosen everyone up.

I was already a little tipsy when it was my turn to kiss one of the guys in the group for a silly dare. I did it without much fuss, but I noticed Gael watching from the couch. Not jealously. Hungrily. That quiet way of looking at you that makes you feel undressed without anyone touching you.

Later, several people left, and the house was nearly empty. Nerea disappeared into a bedroom with her boyfriend. Another couple went outside to smoke. Suddenly, without trying very hard, I found myself alone in the living room with Gael.

There was a strange, heavy silence. He put his glass on the table and sat beside me—not pressed against me, but close enough for me to feel the heat of his body.

“So,” he said quietly, “did your friend exaggerate or not?”

I wet my lips before answering.

“That depends on exactly what she told you.”

“That you were dying to give someone a blowjob.”

I felt the impact between my legs. Direct, with no frills. I looked down and laughed nervously.

“She's an idiot.”

“Maybe. But that doesn't answer me.”

I lifted my face. He was still looking at me without hurrying.

“No,” I admitted. “She didn't exaggerate.”

Gael moved a little closer. He smelled faintly of alcohol and clean cologne. He brushed the back of his fingers over my knee, barely a touch.

“Then why haven't you done it yet?”

“Because I wasn't going around asking who would let me.”

He smiled.

“Well, I will.”

A muffled laugh escaped me, more from nerves than amusement. He touched my chin and turned my face toward him.

“You like me, Abril. And I like you. There's no need to pretend this fell into your lap from heaven.”

I said nothing. I kissed him. It was the most honest answer I could give. His mouth was firm, slow at first, as if he were leaving me room to change my mind. But I didn't want room. I opened his mouth with my tongue, moved closer, and felt his hand rise to the nape of my neck, holding me firmly.

The kiss grew deeper, dirtier. His fingers dropped to my waist and squeezed me. I slipped my hand between his legs over his pants and immediately felt the hard bulge. Big, alive, growing beneath my palm. I moaned against his mouth.

“Fuck,” he murmured. “So it was true.”

I squeezed his cock through the fabric. He let his head fall back for a second, then grabbed my wrist.

“If you keep touching me like that here, I'm going to come in my jeans like a teenager. Come on.”

He took me by the hand to a room at the back of the house. It was a guest room, with a narrow bed, a chair, and a lamp glowing at half strength. As soon as he closed the door, we kissed again. This time with more hunger. My hands went to his shirt, and I tore it open. He pulled my blouse over my head and stared at my bra as if it were already in his way.

“You're shaking,” he said.

“I'm horny.”

“I like that better.”

He gently pushed me until I sat on the bed, then knelt in front of me. He kissed my neck, my cleavage, the upper part of my breasts over my bra. Then he looked up.

“Tell me if you want to stop.”

“I don't want to stop.”

He unfastened my bra and left my breasts bare. I felt the change in temperature on my hard nipples, and then his mouth was on one of them. He sucked slowly at first, then harder, while one hand kneaded my other breast. I arched, gasping, and threaded my fingers through his hair.

“That's it,” he whispered. “I want to hear you.”

His hands traveled down my stomach to the button of my jeans. He opened it. He looked at me one last time before pulling them down with my underwear. When he saw how wet I was, he gave a brief, satisfied laugh.

“Shit, Abril. You're dripping.”

I wanted to cover myself out of sheer embarrassment, but he moved my hands away.

“No. Let me look at you.”

He spread my legs and ran two fingers over my soaked lips. The contact drew an immediate moan from me. Then he pushed them in slowly, burying them to the hilt and pulling them out with a wet sound that embarrassed me and turned me on even more.

“Fuck,” I said through my teeth.

“That's exactly what I'm thinking.”

He finger-fucked me for a while, thrusting in and out while licking my nipple as I couldn't stop moving my hips. Then he knelt more comfortably between my thighs and opened me all the way.

“I want to taste you before you suck me off.”

And he lowered his mouth.

His tongue found me full-on, slow at first, moving from the bottom upward, parting my folds and stopping exactly where I needed it most. He took his time. Licking, sucking, slipping the tip of his tongue in and then flattening it against my clitoris until he made me writhe.

I'd fantasized about putting a cock in my mouth all week, but in that moment it nearly vanished from my mind. Because Gael ate pussy as if he genuinely liked doing it, not as a chore to get to what he wanted. He held my thighs open and kept me there, panting, while my lubrication wet his chin.

“Don't stop,” I begged.

He answered with another long lick, then pushed two fingers inside me again. They moved in and out in time with his tongue. Faster and faster. The room filled with my gasps and that obscene wet sound that made me even hotter.

“I'm going to come,” I warned, my voice breaking.

“Do it.”

He didn't slow down. He kept sucking my clitoris while fucking me with his fingers until the orgasm crashed over me. I clamped my legs shut on reflex, trembling, and he opened them again so he could continue a little longer, pulling short, uncontrolled moans from me.

When he finally pulled away, his mouth was shining. He wiped it with his thumb, looked at me, and smiled with such a dirty expression that I felt another brutal tug between my legs.

“Now,” he said. “I think you've earned what you came here for.”

He stood and unbuttoned his pants without taking his eyes off me. I sat up on the bed, my heart racing. I liked the confidence with which he lowered the zipper, pushed his pants and boxer briefs to mid-thigh, and let his cock spring free.

It was thick, straight, quite a bit bigger than I'd imagined. The head was already wet and shining, peeking out beneath the gathered skin. It wasn't some exaggerated fantasy; it was a real cock, genuinely hard and heavy. And it made me hungry at once.

I knelt in front of him without being asked. Gael stroked my hair with one hand.

“Look at me.”

I obeyed. He was breathing hard, but he was still in control.

“Don't do anything you don't want to do. If you only want to suck it, then just suck it. If you want to stop, stop. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Then come here and eat it.”

Those words went straight through me. I took his cock in one hand and weighed it for a moment. It was hot, hard as stone, its tip wet. I stuck out my tongue and gave the head a slow first lick, tasting the salty fluid already there. He exhaled through his nose.

“Fuck…”

I licked it again, circling the rim with the tip of my tongue before taking just the head into my mouth. I sucked slowly, tightening my lips, then moved a little farther down. My hand stayed at the base, stroking him in time with my mouth while I breathed through my nose.

Gael didn't push my head or start giving ridiculous orders. He let me do it. And that completely relaxed me. I started enjoying it again: the wet movement, the pressure on my tongue, the feeling of something hard sliding in and out between my lips. Saliva soaked my chin. Every time I pulled back, a clear string hung between the tip of his cock and my mouth.

“You're so good at that,” he said hoarsely. “Shit, yes… just like that.”

I moaned around his cock when I heard him. The vibration made him curse louder. Then I loosened my hand and tried to take more. I relaxed, swallowed, and let the tip advance toward the back of my throat. I coughed a little the first time, but it didn't matter. I tried again, more slowly, until I felt that uncomfortable, exciting limit where the body wants to pull away and the mind says to keep going.

He held my hair back.

“Easy. Don't rush.”

I caressed his balls with my other hand, massaging them while I kept sucking him. Then I lowered my mouth and sucked them one at a time, wet and heavy, taking each into my mouth for a moment before releasing it with saliva. His reaction was immediate: a deep moan and an involuntary thrust of his hips.

“Holy shit, Abril… don't fucking do this to me…”

That encouraged me. I went back to his cock, and this time I took it considerably deeper, letting it slide as far as I could before pulling away, gasping. My lips were already soaked, as were the base of his shaft and part of his stomach. The sight turned me on so much that I slipped a hand between my legs and found myself wet again.

Gael saw me do it and grabbed my wrist.

“No. That hand goes here.”

He placed it on his ass. I squeezed him and kept sucking, picking up the pace. My head moved up and down, my tongue played along the underside, and the saliva sounded obscene in the room. He began to lose his composure. He panted, whispered curses in my ear, and gripped my hair more tightly without hurting me.

“I'm going to come if you keep doing that.”

I pulled him from my mouth for a second and looked at him.

“I want you to come in my mouth.”

His pupils widened a little. He stroked my cheek with his thumb, almost tenderly, while his cock trembled in his hand.

“You're an irresistible little slut.”

“Then give me your cock and stop talking.”

He chuckled, surprised by my tone, and I took him back into my mouth. This time without hesitation. I sucked harder, faster, getting him wet all over. I licked the tip, went down to the base, and swallowed as much as I could. My eyes began to water from the effort, but I didn't stop. I wanted to feel him come. I wanted that hot, thick burst filling my mouth.

Gael let out a long curse and grabbed my head with both hands.

“I can't take it anymore… fuck… don't stop…”

I tightened my lips and kept going. A second later, I felt him grow even harder and give me the first jerks. His release exploded hot and thick across my tongue. He moaned with his jaw clenched as he spilled into me. I swallowed the first of it, pulled back just enough to breathe, and went back to take another spurt in my mouth. Some escaped at the corner and ran down my chin.

It didn't disgust me. Quite the opposite. It turned me on like crazy. I swallowed slowly what was in my mouth, stuck out my tongue to show him what remained, and then licked the drop that had escaped from my lip. Gael looked at me as if he had completely lost his mind.

“Jesus Christ…”

He dropped onto the bed, breathless. I was still kneeling between his legs. He pulled me toward him, kissed me hard, and I tasted a mixture of myself and him in his mouth. It made me even dirtier.

“Come here,” he said.

He lifted me onto the bed and laid me on my back. I thought everything would end there, with my blowjob and some kissing, but when I felt him getting hard again against my thigh, I understood that the night wasn't over.

“I thought you were satisfied.”

“With you, it doesn't end that easily.”

He opened my legs again and rubbed the head of his cock over my wet pussy, slowly smearing me with saliva and my own fluids. The contact made me shudder. Even so, when he noticed my hesitation, he stopped.

“I'm not going to put it in unless you want me to.”

I took a deep breath. I hadn't gone to the party thinking about that. My plan, if it could be called a plan, had only been to suck him off and satisfy my craving. But I was aroused, satisfied, and at the same time more open to him than I'd expected.

“I don't want to rush,” I told him. “I want you to go in slowly.”

He nodded. He positioned himself over me, braced on one arm, and guided his cock to my entrance with the other hand. The tip pressed against me, pushed in a little, and then stayed still, giving me time. Then he pushed another centimeter, then another. I clung to his shoulders and let out my breath through my teeth.

“Look at me,” he asked.

I did. And while I looked at him, he slowly sank all the way in. I felt his thickness filling me, the pressure different from fingers, the real weight of a cock inside me. It hurt only slightly at first, but pleasure quickly covered it.

“That's it,” I murmured.

Gael kissed my mouth and began to move. Short strokes at first. Slow. Pulling out only partway and sliding back in so my body could adjust. The wet sound returned immediately. I wrapped my legs around his waist and began moving with him.

“You're so tight,” he growled.

“Keep going.”

He did. Each time a little deeper, a little faster. The nervousness had left me now; there was only an animal heat rising through my belly again. The way he fucked me was firm but careful, as if he genuinely cared about reading my body. And that completely let me go.

I scratched his back when he began thrusting harder. His pelvis slapped against me, and the bed creaked beneath us. He kissed me sometimes, and sometimes just stared at me with that focused, hungry expression while he drove his cock deep inside me.

“What the fuck do you do so well, Abril?” he said between gasps. “You bite, suck, squeeze… you're driving me crazy.”

I slipped a hand between our bodies and touched my clitoris while he kept thrusting. It was too much. A few strokes were enough to send me over again. I came clenching around him inside, moaning against his neck, and Gael answered with several deep, disorderly thrusts, losing control.

He pulled out in time and came across my stomach and part of my mound, his breathing ragged. I watched the hot semen fall onto my skin and didn't know whether to laugh or moan. In the end, I did both.

He collapsed beside me for a few seconds, then ran his hand over my stomach, gathering some of his release on his fingers. He brought them to my mouth. I licked them without breaking eye contact. His expression was almost one of surrender.

“You make it impossible to play fair.”

“I didn't come here to play fair.”

We got dressed slowly, still kissing between garments. Before we left the room, Gael pressed me against the door and gave me one last long kiss, the kind that seems to seal something even though nobody says it aloud.

When we returned to the living room, Nerea took one look at our faces and burst into an obscene laugh. I didn't need to tell her anything that night. She already knew. Even so, later, when we were alone in the kitchen, she cornered me to pry out the details, and I ended up confessing everything: how he'd eaten my pussy, how I'd sucked him, how he'd come in my mouth, and how we ended up fucking when I supposedly hadn't planned to go that far.

“I told you,” she pronounced, pouring herself some water. “You didn't need a boyfriend. You needed a good cock and a man who knew how to use it.”

I smacked her arm, laughing, but deep down I knew she was right.

The following Monday, I was the one who texted Gael first. Not to pretend indifference or ask whether it had been a mistake. I sent him something much simpler and much more honest.

“I can't stop thinking about your cock.”

His reply came seconds later.

“I can't stop thinking about your mouth. When are we doing it again?”

And that's how it all really began. The rest, I suppose, belongs in other confessions.