The Cuck Begins

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I came out of a five year relationship with some baggage. I won’t discount that. The beginning of the relationship was all butterflies and kissing and writing notes. But as time went on, we grew apart and the people we became were no longer attracted to one another.

The first time I realized this was happening was a shock. I didn’t know it could just happen to couples. We were at a church function and my girlfriend was flirting with another guy. Sam. I asked what his name was as I opened a can of soda. She asked if I was jealous. I said I was. She laughed and said it was nothing. Then she spent the rest of the afternoon and evening laughing with him. They went to the parking lot and got into his car and I didn’t see where they went.

It didn’t last long after that. And they didn’t last either.

I can’t say it was her fault. She was following her heart. She wasn’t into me anymore. And it was then that I realized I wasn’t really into her. I wasn’t jealous because I wanted her love for myself. I was jealous because my girlfriend was interested in another guy. It was breaking a fundamental rule of a relationship. She did call me one day and admit it was a mistake and that she wished we had stayed together. But I shrugged.

Time went on. I checked on her from time to time, asking mutual friends how she was doing. They lost contact with her too. Last they heard, she was engaged.

Two years later, a serendipitous moment occurred. The right place and time for my falling for a longtime friend. She was not like my ex. I didn’t even think of my ex anymore. I was finally over her. I spent more time with her and eventually it just clicked.

It was spring and I was in love. She wouldn’t say it. We would sit in her living room every day and light incense and play music for each other and read together. It was innocent and while I wanted to be with her, we didn’t do anything, until one night.

There was a thunderstorm. It popped up on us as we were taking a walk in her neighborhood. The downpour soaked us through and through. We ran back to her house, ducking in the back door. I was shivering and so was she. She told me to take off my clothes, and she would throw them in the dryer.

She stripped off her shirt and I stared at her in disbelief that this was happening. I saw her unhook her bra. Her breasts were huge. Much bigger than I thought. She wore a bra that toned their size down. She was curvy and sexy. I took off my shirt and tossed it into the dryer after she had done the same kırıkkale escort thing. I fumbled with my belt and she reached over and helped me. I was shivering from the chill and the excitement of the moment. Her hands grazed mine and I calmed down. I felt her meaning. It was OK. Breathe.

When we were naked, she grabbed my hand and led me to her bedroom where she pulled back the comforter and climbed in. She patted beside her and I joined her. Out bodies were close. An inch apart.

“You look cold,” she said.

“I am.”

“I guess they were right. Cold water causes shrinkage.”

I felt embarrassed and I think she saw it. She touched my arm and smiled. She slid under the covers and breathed. I felt hot air all around my body. I poked my head under and did the same thing. It was working. I felt warmer.

Her gentle voice said something that I forget. I wish I could remember the inciting incident, but I just remember thinking I was going for it. I kissed her. It was the first kiss. We weren’t even officially dating. She kissed me back and wrapped her arms around my neck.

“I was wondering what was taking you so long,” she said.

“I didn’t know if you were interested,” I said, and then rolled on top of her.

“You didn’t know until I asked you to get naked?”

“Even then I didn’t really know.”

“Not too bright, are ya?”

“No, I’m not.”

She pushed me off of her and took hold of my penis. She made me hard in a matter of seconds. She was very efficient at arousal. Her fingertips did most of the work, until I was hard and then she gripped my cock and stroked me.

“Touch me,” she said.

I didn’t know how she wanted to be touched. She was facing me and lifted her top leg, bending it at the knee and resting it on her heel. I moved my hand between her legs and touched her. Her pussy was smooth and soft and just a little wet. It was cool around her lips, where the air was still wicking off water. I slide a finger in and felt how tight she was. She gasped and pushed my hand away.

“Not like that,” she said.

She gripped my hand and worked her fingers over mine, showing me how she wanted me to rub her clit. I nodded. She let go and I ran my middle finger back and forth, then switched to circular a motion. After a moment, she actually moaned and I felt on top of the world. I made her moan!

“Too hard, softer,” she said.

Back to earth, I fell…

She corrected me a few times that night before I finally kırıkkale escort bayan learned. I couldn’t stop thinking about how tight her pussy was and how it would probably feel amazing. But she didn’t want that. I could tell.

She pushed me away from her body and straddled my leg, mid-thigh and began to ride it. She took hold of my cock and jerked me off as she did it. I watched, feeling the bliss of her hand on me, her wet pussy rubbing against my skin, her mouth twisting as she moaned. Her body bucked and her hip thrusts intensified. She squirmed and bent forward, her breasts dangling over my stomach, as she came. She slowed and collapsed on me.

“When I was holding you, I was imagining you inside of me,” she said.

“Well, we could-“

She put her finger to my lips. She caught her breath and she rested on me. She leaned up and put my cock between her breasts. She squeezed her shoulders together, her elbows inward, pushing her breasts together, enveloping my cock. Her skin was warm and pale and like nothing I had felt. It was like being surrounded by comfort… that sounds stupid, I know. But it was unlike anything else. I felt cared for. She smiled and it seemed to me that she was happy to be using her breasts in this way.

She rolled over on her side again and gripped my cock with her hand again. She jerked me off into her soft flesh. My hard tip pushing in to her, feeling her skin surround me.

I tapped her on the shoulder and she nodded, her hand sped up. She was focused and unrelenting. It had been a long time since I came with a woman, and in the excitement of the moment I could feel this was going to be a big one. She was warned. Pull back now or you’ll be sorry.

She wasn’t sorry.

Cum shot against her breast.

“Ooo,” she gasped and smiled.

She squeezed my cock hard, milking more cum out of me. Streams shot against her soft body.

When it stopped, she let go and pulled a T-shirt from her dresser, wiping her chest off. She got back into bed and cuddled against my chest. I put an arm around her.

For a long time, we said nothing. I thought she was asleep.

“You know John has been asking to touch my boobs for a year now.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. I won’t let him. He says it doesn’t have to mean anything. He’s just curious. I think he likes me though.”

I thought that was a weird thing to say at this moment.

“Hm.,” I said.

“But you did more than that.”

“I sure escort kırıkkale did.”

The next night, we were in bed again. It was the same. No sex, but we both came. Then we cuddled and talked about inappropriate things for times like that.

We discussed things like which friends we had seen naked, my answer was none. She saw a bunch of them. Apparently they played strip poker one night when I was sick. Unfair…

One night, I said, “I like that your smooth down there.”

“Oh. I just don’t like hair there. It feels weird.”

“Well, I like it. I didn’t know women did that for real.”

The next night, she let me go down on her. I was lying on my back, playing with her hair when she sat up and straddled my face. I didn’t object. She held her nipples in her hands and closed her eyes as she writhed against my lips. She tasted like honey mustard and to this day, I think of her when I have some.

A week later, I called her after work and she didn’t answer. Texted her and got no response. I drove over and parked on the street. Her driveway was full. There was another car. I didn’t recognize it. I walked in, as she told me I was welcome to do anytime, and looked for her. Her phone was on the kitchen counter.

I heard moaning from her bedroom and tip-toed over the hardwood floors, afraid to make a noise and be discovered. I didn’t want her to know I was there. I was already being torn apart inside. But I had to know.

Her door was open just a sliver. I looked in and saw John on the floor, his head between her legs, her hand in his hair.

“I need more,” she said.

He stood up and towered over her bed. He was six inches taller than me. His shoulders twice as wide as mine. His cock was hard and thick and she reached up for it, guiding it into her. She cursed as he pushed into her.

I backed away and left. I drove for a long time and pulled into a gas station. I didn’t know where I was and it didn’t matter. I texted her.

“I guess it’s over.”

The reply came later that night.

“I guess.”

It was a year later that I ran into her and she pulled me aside in a busy store and apologized. She was sad at the time and it was no excuse but she knew it hurt me.. I accepted it and we parted and that was that.

Now, quite a few years later, it turns me on to think of my wife sleeping with another man. Someone bigger, stronger, better endowed, more vigorous in bed. So, am I a cuck? Did these experiences shape my kink? Or was I always a cuck?

My wife has agreed to cuckold me and is on the hunt for her man. She said if she is going to do this, he has to be a 9 or 10. She’s not going to go through all this hassle for a 7. But she kisses me still. She fucks me still. She holds me close in the middle of the night and her warm breasts make me feel at home.

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