Sexual Awakening

“Why is this making me wet? This isn't Godly!” Izzy didn't pick up the remote. She didn't stop watching. She was actually sad when the music video ended. Before the cut to commercials, she saw something called “Instagram.” Some people at church had mentioned this app, but she didn't pay too much mind. When she tried to install it on her old phone, it was blocked.

“I wonder what else makes me wet. Let's see if I can find anything on Instagram.”

Izzy finally felt free to explore the world without any judgment or shame. She decided to get comfortable. It's going to be along evening going down this rabbit hole. There was just too much to see. Too much to catch up on. Too much to learn. “My Bible might start to collect dust,” she giggled to herself.

She made a beeline right for the good stuff. She saw the rapper's name come up almost instantly, and she was hooked. So much skin. So provocative. So vulgar. So arousing. “This is amazing; I need to keep watching.” Black women of all shapes and sizes are parading their bodies, flaunting, twerking, and commanding presence.

The skimpier the outfit, the wetter she became. “They all look like me but are so different.” Izzy looked down at her conservative dress; not even her ankles were showing.

“I should fix this right now.” In an act of defiance, she didn't just undress; she deliberately ripped her clothing that she had on. She didn't care about the dollar amount; she just wanted out. It was like a ritual of shedding skin. Her sexually fueled thoughts were impulsive and satisfying.

“I think I want to worship these women. They are what I want to be like; they can wear clothes. I should be naked in their presence.”

She was escalating further and further quite quickly. She's been alone for only a few hours, and now she's naked in her apartment with her legs spread and her wet pussy throbbing. She's not eaten; she's not even bothered to return her missed calls.

“I don't want to touch myself just yet. I can wait a little while longer for the right time.”

Her years of denying her sexual urges made her a natural at orgasm and sexual impulse control. The very fact she could be openly naked for hours outside of her bathroom was liberating. Everything about moving out was liberating.

Izzy could finally learn who she was exactly. Apparently she was sexually aroused by women barely dressed on the internet for all to see. As the algorithm caught up with her, she started checking other provocative content. Black women with unnaturally long tongues drooling; women doing sexually suggestive behaviors with things she didn't quite understand yet. (they were dildos hidden to avoid censorship).

Then as she got deeper, she saw her first hint of full nudity. It was just a glimpse, but a woman flashed her pussy and tits, and then a sound came up that said “goon.”

She watched the video over and over again. Out of instinct, she started air humping.. “Goon? What is that?” This black model had a different social media link. She followed it to a page with other links. She recognized. Instagram, but she saw other links she didn't know. “What's X and what's OnlyFans?” Izzy needed to know. She needed to see more.

That glimpse of nudity lit a fire under her.

Izzy was slowly getting addicted to porn.