How Natalie Portman (Accidentally) Taught Me To Cum

Hey Solotouch fam—Sarah here! First off, holy shit your messages about my pillow-humping story made me so wet. Knowing you all got off to it? Best. Homework. Distraction. Ever. And it def led to another good come. ;)

Since you loved it… let’s rewind to where it began.

Confession: I didn’t lose my virginity until college. Not because I was “pure,” but because I was too busy cramming for AP exams to notice my own pussy. Seriously. Straight-A Sarah, president of the debate club, queen of repressed desires. Then came Black Swan.

You know the scene—Natalie and Mila, all sweat and silk sheets, fingers tangled in hair, mouths hungry. I remember my breath catching, my legs reflexively slamming together like church doors. The couch shifted under me, my cotton panties suddenly soaked. I didn’t move. Couldn’t. Just sat there, thighs shaking, until the credits rolled.

That night, I lay in bed—1 a.m., textbooks stacked on the desk—and replayed the scene in my head. My hand drifted under my shirt, thumb brushing a nipple. Fuck. It was like flipping a switch. I pinched harder, hips lifting off the mattress, my other hand pressed over my panties. Not under. Never under. Too scared, a bit guilty. But I needed… something.

So I scratched my pointer fingernail over my clit through the damp fabric. Sharp, urgent, perfect. The pressure built—a coiled spring in my pelvis—and suddenly, my heartbeat was everywhere. In my ears, my throat, my clit. I panicked. Am I dying? I also thought what if I pee. What if I pee then die! But then… release.

My back arched, toes curling so hard I thought they’d snap.

My body jolted like I’d been shocked. Hips bucking, pussy clenching on nothing, waves of pleasure so intense I bit my pillow to stay quiet. And the contractions—they didn’t stop. One after another, milking an through an orgasm I didn’t know I had in me. I collapsed, drenched in sweat, and passed out.

Woke up hours later. Still dark. My hand slid into my panties before my brain caught up. Slick. Hot. No fabric barrier this time—just my fingertip circling my clit, slow and deliberate. No fear. This time, I rode the tension like I’d been doing it forever. When I came, it was louder. Longer. My feet kicked at the sheets, toes splayed wide, as I muffled a scream into my wrist.

Confession: I still have a downloaded copy of Black Swan somewhere. For… uh, academic purposes. And yes, I still watch it before bed sometimes.

Sorry these are a bit short, I love the long stories here, but for some reason, I just like to get to it.