Is a slut always an active participant? Or is it more of the inner thrill one gets when doing something they know they shouldn’t, but the want outweighs the caution? That nagging burn in the pit of one’s stomach, compiled with the slowly racing heartbeat, that beckons one to continue their lust-driven pursuit… maybe you remember back when you successfully asked out your first crush or went in for your first kiss. That alien thrill you felt deep inside your gut as you edged closer to your goal. Innocence of naivety served as a topping to deeper carnal desires, at least for me. And over time, I grew to understand lust is something we are born with, and the harder we fight it, the more likely we succumb to it.
That’s where I found myself; here at the end of a particularly stressful week in school, I was aching for a break. The year was 2014, and I was smack dab in the middle of a hectic semester where I dealt with a break-up, gained 10 pounds, and felt the least sexy I possibly could with summer just around the corner. Sometimes, you know it isn’t you time. It’s better to lean into it and work your way through, rather than fight it and continue to be delusional. I deleted my dating apps, wanted to get school over with, and focused on returning back from summer at a place I felt I was my best. For a while, I was successful. I strayed from indulging in my libido and practice NoFap unofficially. I had a decent self-care routine and was getting back in shape to lose that aforementioned 10 lbs. And I felt like I was honoring my friendships and school responsibilities as best I could.
Then, this bad week hit. On Monday, I found out my ex was dating someone else. And in college, dating meant anything from grabbing dinner routinely, or fucking each others brains out, or planning the wedding. And given my history with her, I knew she did not hesitate to jump back into the sack with whomever she was seeing. I cautiously avoided the library and the gym around the times I knew she was going to be there. I took the long way from classes back to my room. I avoided common areas. And then one day in line at Starbucks, I recognized a particularly plump ass in familiar jeans… Before I recognized it was her, another hand came out from the side and rested upon her hip, slowly inching its way down to her ass cheek. She swapped it away and I looked up to see who it belonged to: my teammate from the soccer club. They shared a peck and nuzzled each others noses before grabbing their drinks and making their way to their study area.
I tried to compose myself as best I could. I really did. But I was devastated. The words “whore. slut. bitch” and worse pummeled through my mind aching to get out of my lungs and into the outside world. But I kept it inside. I reasoned through it. We had a bad breakup and she wasn’t the best match for me. Yes, on paper, we were a great looking couple, but so were they. I threw myself into my work that week and felt less and less focused on them and more on what I needed to do. By the time Friday came around, I was just tired from work and wanted the weekend to start. And I was packing up my things from the library when I heard some giggling out of the corner. There in the darkness, between a wall and a pillar, snuggly hidden were two bodies whose silhouettes I recognized. It was him, on a lounge chair, with my ex-gf on top of him. You know what? They actually looked cute together. He was wrapping his arms around her waist and she was “side sitting” him. I was happy for both of them. I had my own shit to do and I felt like I wasn’t the “loser” in this breakup anymore. I smirked watching them as I remembered my own memories of us doing the same things. Then, suddenly, the lights in the library dimmed, signaling closing time was in 15 minutes. Some lights in their hallway started to shut off, and soon, I only recognized their silhouettes by their hair. The giggling suddenly stopped and was replaced with sucking noises.
“Oh?” I thought as I knew exactly what was going on.
When I saw her hair get knotted into a ponytail, I started smirking again knowing what she was about to do. Dont ask me. I have no idea how I was more interested in watching this than aching at the pain of my girl blowing another man. Maybe I was destined to be his Eskimo brother (sorry for the slang.) Or maybe, I hadn’t jerked in 3 weeks and I simply could not care less about how fucked up this whole thing was, because my dick was pulsing at this point. I watched them both look around to make sure the coast was clear. Like a secret agent, I hid behind the wall so they couldn’t see me. But, while he was looking the other way, I felt a pair of eyes on me that I hadn’t accounted for. She was looking in my direction and while she didn’t see me, I knew she say my fucking backpack on the chair. I could tell she stopped to think if that were my Hershel or someone else’s but by then her man grabbed her hair and drove her face onto his cock. And she started sucking. I could tell all sense escaped her body with each stroke. She eased into it quickly. Started slobbering spit onto his tip. Their movement caused one pair of lights to turn on and now I had a clearer view. Her white pants hugged the floor as her red thong shown brilliantly in the reflecting light. His sweat pants joined her at his ankles and his cock was in full view.
You ever see a cock that may not be the biggest, but looked pristine? That’s what his looked like. I didn’t care that I may have been bigger. His was statuesque. Goddamn. Good for her. I watched her continue to suck and suck on his cock and he kept treating her like his personal whore. He was using all my moves and I didn’t care because I felt my rock hard cock start poking through my underwear sleeve. I looked around to see if anyone else was around me and we both know that by now, there wasnt…
“God. Am I really going to do this?” I thought. But watching her figure move up and down reminded me of all the good sex we had. All the fucking great angles I took to enter her pussy. It was too fucking much…
So I pulled mine out, hiding behind another pillar out of view of cameras and other eyes… As she sucked his cock, I stroked mine. And pretty soon, the deeper she took it, the harder mine became. Before long, the lights flashed again signifying it was time to close. And as fate would have it, I came. All over the goddamn wall. As did he. All over her goddamn chest. While I was reveling in my first ejaculation in 3 weeks, my senses suddenly overcame me as I saw them packing up. They were headed my way and like a moron I forgot they had to, in order to leave the library. I hid behind the pillar as they walked past me, glancing at my backpack. Her gaze lingered just a bit longer than I anticipated but I felt this time, she knew. When the coast was clear, I left my hiding spot and started packing up as well. I heard footsteps in the background and immediately said “yeah sorry I’m packing up.”
“Oh, I didnt know you were here.”
I recognized the voice. And we know who it belonged to. Seems she forgot something at the spot of her crime and she mentioned she was picking up a hairpin or whatever. For some reason, I was emotionally composed and didn’t feel like the world was collapsing as we conversed for a little bit. And as I finished packing up, her gaze lingered on my hiding spot. *Oh fuck* I thought. I didn’t clean up my cum. And there it was. Drooling off the wall onto the floor. I locked eyes with her and witnessed her coyly upturned smile. We both knew exactly what happened. She played it cool though. Thankfully.
And we never discussed that night again. not when we hooked up later that summer during a “break” in her relationship. And not when we attended came back the next semester as friends with benefits. Some things are best left unsaid. But we both discovered a new kink I had that day. voyeurism. I liked to watch, and being watched. And for the next year, for as long as we kept fucking, we found new ways to keep ourselves excited.
Am I a slut? probably. But am I complaining about it? Absolutely not. A slut is both a passive and active participant. And it’s up to you to decide which part you’ll play. Lucky for me, I can do both.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/12grblu/mf_voyeurism_exgf_oral_sometimes_its_better_to