The Naughty Secret

walked into the coffee house basement, same time every Tuesday at 8:00pm and found my usual seat in the back row of chairs. I fiddled my 3 month chip in my fingers as I had done whenever I got a craving. I noticed a podium up in the front of the room which usually hints of a speaker night. I looked around the room as it slowly filled up with addicts just like me. You can tell the old-timer from the newcomer. It’s always in the outfits. As the months go on the sexy will change to sweats and a t-shirt, then to a dress shirt and slacks like the old-timers wear. I was the same way, we all are when we first walk through that door. You’re so fresh out of rehab you are still filled with that strong sexual desire and of course you have to match that energy on the outside. Which always leads to the women wearing the sluttiest attire they own not knowing at the time the men who fill the meeting are committed to their new found lifestyle that no fresh meat, horny chick is going to distract them from finding and keeping their sobriety. I had learned rather quickly so eventually I gave up on trying to turn to the newfound and insanely sexy celebate men and just started coming in and not trying to impress. I was lucky enough that every week, although some weeks were more difficult than others in finding the strength to avoid David’s (every meeting has one, the guy who claims sobriety but really isn’t) advances and actually remained the only one that was touching my sticky honey pot in 90 days. If you have never met me theres some thing you have to understand, I went from fucking at least 7 different partners on a daily basis to the most I had in one day, which was 25. I litterly fucked anything that was over 18, men, women, old and wrinkly to young and barley an adult. Eventually the girl who had it all, started high school as the captain of the cheerleading squad my freshman year. I was Innocent and getting more beautiful and curvy as time went on. Lost my virginity and from there life quickly escalated during the 4 years of my high-school experience, dropping out midway through my senior year with the nickname Crystal the cum chaser and I was known for being the slut who fucked any one as long as I ended the night getting mine. It wasn’t till the morning after my 25 person gang bang that I didn’t recognize who was staring back in the mirror. Right then and there I knew I needed to get help. The stranger in the mirror was covered in bruises and random cum, I wasn’t even sure how many different strands of DNA were dried and crusted on every inch of my exposed skin, and judging by the amount of condoms that were in the trash it was definitely more than it had ever been. I felt beaten down not only mentally but physically, I quickly picked up the phone and began to cry. Shame filled what was now just an empty shell that I was to only assume was the new body that belonged to me. The questions they’re asking during the initial phone call was making me hot, “like why the fuck am I wet and thinking of who I can call to give me one last fuck before I go into rehab. And all I am worrying about is not knowing how long until I can fuck afterwards.” I thought to myself as I sobbed to the understanding woman on the other end of the phone who is gently guiding me through my assessment. Without even realizing it, my fingers start sliding inside of my pussy which was still beat from the night before. I knew this wasn’t the last time my fingers would be deep inside the tired pussy that still and will always need some type of pleasure. Sex is the first thought I have when I wake up and is the last before my eyes close and drift off to sleep on my cum soaked sheets. I begin to tell the stranger who I had assumed was judging me after hearing the horrid stories that spewed uncontrollably out of my mouth “yea I think I got fucked so much lastnight I had a moment of undesired truth that I, Crystal am a sex addict and I need help.”

So for now to avoid temptation I sat tucked away in the back corner of what is known in any meeting as relapse row. Knowing that one day i will be sitting up front with all the other people who had started in the back just as i am, and after they endured the cravings, and put in the work even when they wanted to give up, they now sit proudly up front and give myself and all the other newcomers hope that we can also be proud if we reach deep down and put in the work.They are the ones who can make it a full day without needing to please themselves every opportune moment. I often find myself wondering if we are still able to masturbate, if not it is only a matter of time that I will undoubtedly relapse. I pull myself out of my head only to lay eyes on the speaker. I begin fiddling my coin so badly that it drops and bounces what feels like an eternity and of course at the moment of silence we always take for the ones still struggling. If the sight of a gorgeous stranger had not reddened my cheeks, they were now that all eyes were on me, but all I see is the man up front. He starts off the meeting like every other meeting, introducing the newcomers to the Sexaholics anonymous meeting. We had called ourselves the perverts of the community, and wore that name proudly, and yes it is a real group, and yes the majority of members have not indulged in the dirty, naughty, kinky deed in months or for some years. Now, like any group there are the 13th steppers, these individuals come in early and scope out the most vulnerable of the newcomers, or they easily spot the sex alcoholics who just come to get their court paper signed and leave when the meeting starts. They act like they are so fragile and need support, and it never fails, you see them sneaking out of the meeting and find them bare assed in the back seat of someone’s scummy car. Parked right in the front parking spot so when the meeting ends we are presented with a steam covered window and a mystery private part pressed against the glass. And just because the majority of the members go to the meeting for the right reasons and have been abstinent doesn’t mean we are all dead. We all form a crowd around the car and peek in the crack of the window revealing the identity of the lucky lady. Whoever wins the bet on who falls for Dave’s shit every week wins 20 sometimes 30 bucks. Well it looks like it was Amy, and the winner of the bet by a landslide was Craig. He wins everytime, its as if he were physic, like fuck his nickname is the sexy fortune teller. Because he is just that, sexy and seems to know everything before it happens. Now you wouldn’t know it by walking past him on the street that he is a die hard abstinence practitioner. He was one of the founders of the group, do the math, it’s been 10 years, of no fucking and im not even 100% sure if they even masturbate. I feel myself questioning my power, I can’t let that go just yet. Especially after these meetings, I can’t even get halfway home before I start playing with myself. My pussy is always wet and throbbing by the time I leave the meeting from being surrounded by all these sexy people who have once been a sexual God or goddess. I will never forget my first couple meetings right out of rehab, and yes they have rehabs for sex addicts. I would just stare straight ahead and eventually find myself day dreaming of everyone naked, sweating and fucking. Just straight one person after another, eventually by the end of my fantasy everyone had fucked each other and the floor was covered in sex juices. Then I would snap out of it when everyone stood to say the prayer before we left. Back then I didn’t even make it out of the parking lot before my hand found its way to my aching kitty cat and I could definitely feel it already purring. So as one may see it as I could barely make it half way home before franticly finger fucking myself to very detailed mental pictures that I had locked away in the one thing that gives me the most problem, my imagination and the naughty memories that landed me here in the first place, where as I saw progress.

I was so fascinated by how attractive this man was, of course my mind wondered off into what I would do to him if we weren’t trying to be better behaved people in a society of people that can fuck like normal and they are willing commit to one person for the rest of their lives. One sexual partner, which l found myself being the complete opposite, I was never happy with just one partner; I needed them all. On the bright side, the journey of my sobriety has given me the thought that it was time change my ways of life, and I was no longer going to be the town whore who has already fucked almost every woman’s husband in the small quiet neighborhood at least twice. Now was the time to become a proper woman and because of that I would soon become a regular at the sex shop that sits just outside of town. Believe me I was well aware I needed to find some new and exciting ways to fuck myself. If not, I slowly but surely will find myself getting bored. And just like that I had realized I just word vomited in the middle of the meeting, “fuck, my panties are wet!” And quickly noticed I was grinding on my seat. Staring blankly at the front of the room zoned in on the speaker who I will admit I had not heard a damn thing he said, as I think to myself “ it’s like my pussy singled to my brain and woke me up right as he begins his story of the sexual experience that was his “oh shit, I am an addict” moment like I had”