I never thought I was the type of girl who would become an addict. I had plenty of other ways to get "high." I am a creative person. I like to make things, write things, I had plenty of friends, a man and all types of shit to occupy my time....but like they say: It only takes one time.
I met Cocaine about 6 years ago. I was dating my ex-husband when he and I met online. He lived in New York, was sexy, confident (cocky as shit) and a fucking freak! The complete opposite of what I was dealing with at home. We talked online, had steamy phone conversations where he would tell me how he would fuck my face until I gagged and my asshole until it gaped. He called me his slut/bitch/whore and make me tell him how I was fucking my asshole, getting it ready for him, and how much I loved it. Shit, he turned me on like it was in his DNA! But, he was an asshole and I knew I had to keep my distance because, I had a thing for assholes. He was coming down to Miami in a few months for Memorial Weekend and I knew that I was going to fuck him--or he would fuck me, rather--but just that ONE time. I had to see if this high was all he made it out to be. I swore I was only going to do ONE line...
Sniff. Mmm. Sniff, Snnniff! The first time that we met, was at a hotel room I was staying at on the beach not far from where he and his entourage were staying. We got into the room and by the time he sat down, I don't think two minutes passed before I asked him to pull out his dick so I could get better acquainted (not my exact words, but it was definitely to that point). I proceeded to introduce myself with what I am sure was the most skilled blowjob he had received to date, and after he fucked my mouth...he commenced to fuck me into a multi-orgasmic stupor that had me trembling. He kept changing me from one position to another, staying longer in the places that made me scream the loudest. My pussy was dripping puddles, and he was slaughtering it. Making me pay for all of the shit-talking that I so masochistically brought to the table. I took his fucking, but after I dropped him off, I came back and balled up into the a goddamn fetal position! Shit, I may have even sucked my thumb. Cocaine had come through and owned my pussy. I believe he rearranged my uterus or something, I was in pain for a few days after his thrashing. But he didn't care. And if I'd bend over, he'd do it all over again.
Thank the goddess he didn't live in Miami, right? Really, that only made it worse. He would talk nasty ass shit to me while I was at work, tease me with pictures of his very large and thick dick...constantly remind me of how he put it down in Miami. I couldn't wait another year. You know, when an addict finds a dealer who has that good shit, she will borrow gas money, take three buses and walk 15 blocks for that stuff. I plotted and schemed and was able to get away from home long enough to spend more time with him during an impromptu trip he made to Miami for what probably were the best three days of our relationship, in general....but not as intense as the time I almost Overdosed. That was the when I went to New York City for Labor Day weekend 2005. My friends in NY thought I was coming to visit them, but I really went up there just to get some of that 'caine.
Snnnnniiiiiiiiffffff. It was right after Hurricane Katrina, and I can vividly remember being bent over and fucked in the ass while CNN was replaying clips of Kanye West saying, "George Bush doesn't care about Black people," Cocaine had my face pressed down in the bed and tears were rolling out of my eyes while he kept pushing down on my back and pushing more of his enormous dick into my ass. It was wet, dirty and super nasty.. and he loved it. My head, pressed hard into the bed, my eyes tearing and rolling back into my head, his dick making me convulse. Orgasms were running one into another and I was seizing, And he didn't care. Cocaine doesn't care about PinkVixxxen, that's how he was treating my asshole. But I loved every sodomizing minute of it. He was my favorite drug. I get goosebumps just reflecting on the encounter.
After the NY trip, I saw him once more before I got married. Then, daily conversations faded into sporadic email and text check-ins, and then to quarterly "Hey, what's going on?" email or IM exchanges. Both of our lives had become busier, we drifted apart, and I think we even missed seeing each other a few Memorial Weekends in a row. It seemed that Cocaine had finally loosened his hold on me.
Well, that's how it seemed. But after I split with my husband, moving into my new place made made way for a reunion with an old habit. Memorial Weekend '09 was when I fell off the wagon. From the moment he got into my car, I knew it was a bad idea. He was rude, sarcastic, borderline disrespectful and several times I wondered if I should just take an 'L" and drop his ass back at his hotel. But I was chasing the black horse and wasn't going to stop until I got a taste. I don't know if he knew I was strung out or not, but this time, he really let me have it. He bent me over, fucked me. Pushed me to my knees and forced me to lick his dick, balls and basically the entire region clean. Bent me over, fucked me some more. Got me back on my knees and choked me with his dick and slapped my face, pulled his dick out of my mouth and spit in my face. As he was forcing me back up to be fucked again, I was kind of repulsed. Did he just spit in my face? WTF?! I didn't think I could have felt more humiliated. Until he forced me on my knees and came all over my lips, cheeks, tits...and my carpet. I'm sure he said something like, "Take that nut, bitch" or something equally demeaning. I can't remember because I was in a Cocaine haze. I staggered into the bathroom to clean up and barely recognized myself when I looked in the mirror. I had been humiliated, slapped, spat and cum on. I came hard in the process, but I felt like shit in the afterglow. I had officially hit rock bottom.
He's coming back again for Memorial Weekend this year, about a month or so away. I'm not having sex with him...I've been sober now for 11 months. He said he just wanted to meet for drinks, dinner...or something. I think I'm going to need to call my sponsor.
You ever had something so good it was bad? Or so bad, it was good?