Goonette Roommate
Copyright© 2025 by Shad0wgoone
Chapter 7: Awakening
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 7: Awakening - Two college age women move out of the dorms and live off campus together. Things slowly escalate as one roommate slowly comes out as a completely porn addicted goonette
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa Coercion Mind Control Reluctant Romantic Lesbian BiSexual Fiction Restart School Tear Jerker Interracial Black Female White Female Exhibitionism Masturbation Squirting Voyeurism Nudism AI Generated
Something’s wrong. I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t want to fix this. I don’t need to go back. My body won’t let me. I’m just a passenger in it now. My mind has lost control.
I’m rubbing harder. Faster. My heart races—not from pleasure, but from panic. Full-on, teeth-clenched, shallow-breathing anxiety.
And still, I can’t stop.
What am I doing? Why can’t I stop? This isn’t me. I don’t watch porn. These women aren’t even naked. I haven’t once tried to look at a man. I’ve only been staring at women who look like Michelle for nearly two hours. I don’t lie in bed naked, masturbating for hours. This isn’t me. Or is it?
I’m doing it right now. I guess this is me. But can I accept it?
My hand moves on its own. My body is hot, electric. My chest is tight. My thighs tremble. It feels good—too good—and I hate it.
My mind screams, “STOP!â€
But my fingers say, “More.â€
I keep scrolling Instagram, and a Black goddess links her X profile. There’s porn on X. I didn’t know. Oh my God, it’s happening. I’m going to watch porn on my own now.
My pulse spikes. I’m doomed.
This is wrong. This is dangerous. I’m going to lose myself. I’m going to slip, just like her.
I don’t want to go numb. I don’t want to smile the way she does—empty and full all at once. I don’t want to live in porn.
But I already do. I live with Michelle. I hope she’s okay. I miss her. But I’m too horny to think about her right now.
Black women are so fucking sexy.
I think I remember the name of the content creator she watches all the time. The one who squirts a lot. I don’t care if it’s not real. Do I need to see it now? I thought it was vile, repulsive, but ... I need it. I saw it in the corner of my eye. I heard it. But I never truly looked.
Let me see if I can find her.
Just a peek.
Just to see what Michelle sees. What made her give in. What made her glow like that. Maybe if I see it, I’ll be satisfied. Maybe it’ll snap me out of this.
Or maybe it’ll be the end of me.
I’m still rubbing.
My body is shaking.
And I’m about to cross a line I swore I’d never cross.
My hand won’t stop.
I love watching Black women squirt.
It’s not modesty that makes me hesitate. It’s fear. And still, my fingers rub my clit in slow, desperate circles, like they’re trying to summon clarity from confusion.
The only person that can help me now is Michelle. I need to go to her. I need her help.
I walk out of my bedroom naked and trembling. I approach Michelle’s door and knock. A faint “Come in, it’s open†drifts through.
One hand is still in my pussy as the other opens the door.
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