The Polished Glass 02
How It Started
Meredith Callahan never meant to find it. The first time was almost innocent — a flicker of boredom during her first marriage, when he fell asleep too drunk, too fast. She just turned 21, still carrying the Sunday school frost in her veins, the same frost that made her say no in bed more than she said yes.
She was raised to protect herself and be pure. Some would say she took this to heart to a fault. Even after the wedding vows were said and they were alone, her old habits never left. The instinct to keep her legs closed was too great. There was awkward anxiety and tension. Sex did not happen on their wedding night.
A few months later, the marriage was consummated. She knew that the Bible said it was okay — it was how it was supposed to be. But she still felt violated.
She shied away from the feelings between her legs. The juices inside her felt dirty and sticky and foreign. Unwelcome. Touching herself for any reason outside what was necessary was a sin. She recoiled at the sensations caused by touching her genitals.
She didn't feel right; it all just felt wrong. She was taught to ignore that feeling between her legs, stay pure, and erase every sense of self with sexual thoughts. She obeyed this to a fault.
Her husband didn't press the matter, but he honestly didn't know how to fix her.
She still had trouble accepting the fact that sex would make all the shame go away. She couldn't fully understand how her husband's flesh between his legs would be the thing everyone raved about. She didn't like it going inside of her or him on top of her, and she didn't know how to tell him.
She would just spread her legs enough for him to seek sexual relief from his wife, then close her eyes until he was done. Orgasms were a myth for Meredith.
Eventually, her husband had given up trying to have sex with her. They slept in the same bed and pretended everything was okay.
One night on vacation, she was awake and couldn't sleep — the creeping, disgusting feeling between her legs kept her awake. In that quiet hotel room, she turned on the TV and left it on mute while he snored beside her.
The hotel pay-per-view menu popped up: a list of titles Meredith pretended not to understand. But she hovered anyway. Late Night Ebony Collection. She'd never heard the word “ebony” outside a piano lesson.
Curiosity bloomed under her ribs. She clicked.
Her heart skipped a beat as she saw those words appear before her — it was like all her secret fantasies had been laid bare in that moment. She hesitated briefly, then clicked “Buy” with shaky fingers.
The screen flashed to life, revealing two dark-skinned bodies intertwined beneath cheap hotel sheets. A woman straddled a man's hips as he gripped her ass and thrust upward into her slick heat. The TV was on mute. She wishes she could hear. Their mouths were open and she wondered how it sounded. But she couldn’t.. not with her husband right there. The visuals were raw and primal, nothing like the muted missionary whispers she was used to. She didn’t know people actually had sex like this.
Meredith couldn't look away; her eyes were glued to the screen as the woman rode him harder, faster. Her breasts bounced with each movement. She wondered what it would be like to have hips like hers and breasts that big. Meredith just is. She doesn’t have any of those exciting features. But she’s never seen a body more beautiful than that woman having sex on the screen.
As she continued to study details of the sex scene, Meredith could almost feel the man's cock stretching her insides — that delicious friction building between her legs until it became unbearable.
Without thinking, Meredith had already slid a hand under the covers and touched herself — her fingers slipping easily over slick folds already swollen with need. It was as if someone else had taken control of her body: a stranger who knew exactly what she craved.
She used to hate the feeling of touching herself and that wetness; it repulsed her. But now it didn't matter.
Meredith began to move in time with the couple on screen. She discovered an area between her legs that made her gasp — her clit. It no longer repulsed her; it excited her.
Instinctually, she started rubbing slow circles around her clit — a new happy place. At that moment, Meredith wondered what else she had been missing in life.
While lost in those thoughts, she stayed glued to the muted screen. The man on screen stopped ramming his penis into his partner and quickly buried his face in her crotch. He started to lick her down there. Meredith was watching oral sex for the first time.
She never knew this was an option. She began to imagine what it would be like to experience that. She continued touching herself while watching the two beautiful people on screen have sexual intercourse. The sexual sensations Meredith experienced intensified until they consumed every thought, drowning out any lingering doubts or fears about sin and shame.
Meredith surrendered completely to pleasure for the first time in her life — her hips bucking wildly against her hand as she chased a climax that had always felt just out of reach before now. Her husband was a sound sleeper; none the wiser.
The orgasm rising up inside Meredith built like a tidal wave threatening to crash over the dam. She buried her face in the pillow it was coming. Finally, with a shudder and muffled cry she came. Meredith was experiencing an orgasm for the first time. It was all because of black porn. Not her husband. Not by sex. But by pixels and her fingers. It was the most natural way to experience this. It was the only way to experience this.
The sensation ripped through Meredith's body in waves — her muscles contracting violently. Ecstasy flooded every nerve ending. She rode out each pulse of pleasure until they slowed into gentle aftershocks, leaving her trembling beneath the sheets. Her husband still snored loudly; she was glad for this. This was her moment; she didn't want to explain it to anyone.
As reality began to reassert itself, a sense of euphoria washed over Meredith — the knowledge that she had finally given in to something forbidden and delicious without feeling guilty about it afterward. For so long, sex had been an obligation rather than a source of joy: something done quickly under covers with eyes closed tight against any visual stimulation.
But watching black porn had changed everything for her; seeing those gorgeous dark bodies moving together awakened something primal inside that couldn't be ignored any longer. Meredith knew she would need to watch this kind of explicit content again and again if she wanted to have orgasms. This was the only way she knew how now. She had to watch more black porn.
With a sigh, Meredith clicked off the TV and rolled onto her side away from her sleeping husband — her body still tingling with afterglow even as her mind raced with new possibilities for exploring these desires in secret. She drifted off into dreamless sleep knowing that everything had changed tonight; there was no going back now.
The next morning, Meredith woke up feeling different somehow: as if the orgasm from last night had shifted something fundamental inside her core.
She knew it wouldn't be easy keeping these urges a secret from him, but Meredith also understood that some things are better left unexplained. For now, all that mattered was that she'd discovered a new source of pleasure and connection. With each passing day, those desires would only grow stronger until they could no longer be denied.
And so begins her journey into black porn addiction — a new path paved by forbidden fantasies and secret sessions behind closed doors. But for Meredith, it's worth every risk; anything to feel that delicious surrender again and again.
—Thank you for reading and I hope you feel good. Please donate to show your support.
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keep touching yourself