I was 19 when I started to realize I had a fascination with the realm of cucking. I’d been living away from home for about a year, and slowly broken off things with the closeted on-off relationship with my boyfriend (Aaron) that I’d had through a lot of high school. He was an 18 year old twink (that would later go on to do some modeling and acting), and I love him, but felt confident that we needed to go our own ways. I knew Aaron had cheated on me at least a few times with different guys, but we were young and long distance – it wasn’t the end of the world.
When I came home to visit family, I wanted to see him again. We’d broken up through texts and voicemails, and there wasn’t really any animosity. We texted back and forth, and he decided to stop by to visit. We hugged when he got there, and I felt great seeing him again. We talked nonstop, and decided we’d take a walk through a local woodsy trail while we talked. It was evening and in the summer, the weather was nice, and I loved catching up on his family and job and all the life changes that really happen when you’re just becoming an adult.
When I found out he was engaged to a guy he’d been seeing for a while, I did feel some serious pangs of jealousy. I tried teasing specifics about the timeline out of him, but all I could really get out of him was that we’d still been together the first time they met up.
I will maintain to my grave that it was not my intention to invite Aaron over for *any* sexual reason. He was my friend, and I wanted to see him and feel like we’d properly put some kind of punctuation on the end of our romantic involvement. What I wasn’t counting on, through sheer naiveté, was how hard I would get working out the admission that he’d been cheating on me with his now-fiancé. I’ve always been a free-baller, and my gym shorts were not hiding anything.
I remember laughing, trying to signal through this whole conversation that I wasn’t mad or accusatory, and that I was in a fine place with us splitting up. What I don’t remember is how exactly Aaron ended up with his arms around my neck and our tongues back in each others’ mouths. I know I didn’t immediately push him away, and that I kissed him back. But I do remember ending the kiss, telling him I would miss him, and that his fiancé was a lucky man. As I told him that, he dropped to his knees, taking my gym shorts to my ankles and immediately began slapping my hard cock on his face, looking up at me.
I gasped, holding his head in place and keeping him from going any further. “C’mon, your man deserves better than that.” I couldn’t ignore that I was throbbing in his fist wrapped around my shaft, or that I could see the precum dripping down my head as I was looking down into his eyes. The smirk he gave me, whether I acknowledged it in the moment or not, sealed the deal. “It’s my body. He deserves what I give him.” He reached up and pulled my hand from holding his head back, pushed my cock to the side, leaned in, and ran his tongue over my balls, all without breaking eye contact. “And so do you.”
He started sucking my balls, rubbing my leaking cock across his face. Any of my resistance was gone. If his fiancé wanted a slut, it wasn’t my job to keep him from being one. Aaron was going back and forth between swallowing my cock into the back of his throat and sucking my balls. His face and my groin were soaked. I pulled his shirt over his head early on, to avoid it getting wet, and had long since kicked my shorts to the side. Leaning down to kiss his lips and taste myself on his tongue while he let his jaw relaxed kept us going for a while, I suspect we both knew it wasn’t enough.
I moved into fucking his mouth – at first holding his head in place, but then pushing him onto his back on the ground and fucking it. He made a couple efforts to slide his tongue out and lick my balls while they were resting on his chin, but the demands on his throat were more than we could keep up with for long. Panting, covered in strings of saliva and precum, Aaron pushed his way up so that we were face to face. His legs wrapped around my waist, our lips locked together, and my throbbing, wet cock sliding against his hole – a position we’d been in so many times. We’d learned most everything we knew from discovering it together, and something about it still felt right.
“Aaron…” I said, as sternly as I could, “this isn’t us anymore. We can’t do that.” His hands were under us now, holding me in place. I could feel him trying to push me into him, and my hard cock was on his side, not mine.
He looked back up at me, both of us breathing heavily into each other’s lips. Somewhere in my brain, I chided myself for stopping it. It looked like, finally, the restraint and “right” thing had won out. I could feel the head of my cock throbbing against him, his hole pressing back and pulsating along with me. Aaron moved his hands to my ass, leaning forward and kissing me as we drank each other in.
Then his legs tightened, his hands on my ass pulled me forward while pulling him against me, and I was buried in him balls deep. He let out one tiny, quiet moan, and I grinned down at him. “This what you wanted?” Right there, in the moment of resistance, I’d lost. Aaron nodded in response, and a switch flipped inside me.
“You like it better when you’re a little cheating slut, huh?” The sounds of my wet balls slapping against his ass were hypnotically rhythmic. “I do.” Aaron answered back, bracing himself and meeting my thrusts with his hips. “Does he know what a slut he’s marrying?” “Not yet. After you breed me, he’ll find out tonight.”
I moved Aarons legs from my waist and threw them over my shoulder. He got on his hands and knees, and I rode his ass doggy-style, slapping it until I was confident my bright red handprint would still be glowing when he got him. We slowed down, and he sat on top of me, cowboy and reverse, riding me slowly. The whole time, we talked about what a slut he was, how he couldn’t resist having multiple men, how he was going to go home, kiss his fiancé with the taste of my cock still on his breath, and then slide his fiancé into the load I was currently putting into him. It was taboo, and carnal, and tender, and so many heightened feelings that I could feel throughout every inch of my body.
Finally, I pushed him back into doggy. My handprint still beamed up at me. Aaron braced his head on his arms, ass warm, and wet, and relaxed. I thrust into it, long strokes from the tip until I was fully buried, over and over. Keeping long, full strokes, I got faster and harder, Aaron’s moans cutting through the wet sounds of our bodies crashing together. Without warning, I thrust, embedding myself in him as deeply as I could, and began to pump out what was probably the biggest load I’d ever worked up at that point in my life. Aaron pushed back into me, moaning. I was fixated on shooting my cum so deeply in him that his fiancé would have to spend at least as long fucking it out as I had spent fucking it in.
We laid there on the ground, panting, catching our breath, trading soft, gentle kisses. As we walked back down the trail, and towards our cars, I reached out and took Aaron’s hand. A comment about how wet he was here, or about how good he felt wrapped around me there, and we were back at our cars. A final embrace, one long kiss while my hands slid down the back of his pants to knead his soft ass one more time, and we left our own ways. It would take years to realize that the switch that had flipped in me wasn’t a one-off thing, attached to Aaron and the history we had together. Once I learned about cucking and cuck-adjacent life, I’d realize that Aaron and I had a lot more in common here than just a youthful desire for connection and release.
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