College Cuckolding Sets the Tone of the Marriage

I cannot think of my lifelong friend Gary without thinking of his big cock. It’s part of his persona–like being exceptionally tall or short or buff or chubby–and that big cock was an intimate part of our history. My ex-wife would heartily agree. With the confident swagger of the well hung he was constantly fucking someone in college and one of his conquests was the girl who would become my wife. His first time with her changed our lives forever.

Gary and I met Cindy at a noisy college party. She was confident, tall and slim, with B-cup breasts sporting perky nipples through a braless T-shirt. The two of us chatted her up as she merrily got tipsy. At one point she was sitting between us. She suddenly spread her arms, putting one over each of our shoulders and somewhat sloppily said, “Okay, I’m gonna fuck you guys tonight. Who’s first?”

I was stunned mute, but Gary hopped into action immediately. “That would be me,” he said as he slipped off the ledge upon which we all perched. “He’s a virgin.”

Cindy looked wide-eyed at me for a second and laughed a cute laugh as Gary pulled her off her perch. I shrugged as I followed and the three of us went back to our apartment. Back in the shag pad, the two of them disappeared directly into Gary’s room.

He paid a little more rent to get the master bedroom with its private bathroom. My bedroom shared a wall with his so through the wall I was “treated” to the sounds of his athletic fucking on a regular basis. It was a casual and sometimes funny turn-on to me to listen to the sounds of him and his girls, from the initial buildup through the cries and grunts of orgasms. Sometimes it was funny because I’d mock them quietly on my side. Other times it was just so damned erotic I just listened intently–sometimes with my aching cock in hand. In addition to having a big cock, Gary was a decent looking guy with a good sense of humor, so he landed some lovely choices. Through the wall I listened to live porno and it was awesome.

But that night would be different. That night would not be casual to me. That night I thought I might actually lose my virginity. That night I would listen like my life depended on it, imagining and memorizing their envisioned moves, because I did not want to screw up my first attempt (no pun intended).

That night I listened to them do their bathroom routine, then heard muffled talking and giggling. Then I heard the sounds of clothing being shed, the squeaks of the bed and the occasional grunts or moans. It was hard to hear the sucking sounds, but occasionally I thought that’s what I heard. I certainly imagined her using both hands to stuff his veiny meat into her mouth, both of them groaning with pleasure. The sounds of fucking were clear–the slapping of his hips against her ass, his balls slapping forward, her cries as she climbed higher and closer to her peak. Gary came first–his guttural cries very familiar–and then she came, with very loud, high-pitched cries that made me wonder if she needed medical help. And then they collapsed on the bed.

It was quiet for a while–quite a while–so long, in fact, that I figured they’d both fallen asleep. That was Gary’s norm. He used to say he fucked himself to sleep. As tipsy as Cindy had been I figured she probably fell asleep too and with her slumber, my dreams of losing my virginity vanished.

With a sigh, I heaved myself from the bed and wandered into the kitchen for some ice cream and something to drink. Several minutes into my feast I was startled to see Cindy pad into the kitchen wearing nothing but Gary’s T-shirt which barely covered her pussy.

I was leaning against the counter with my legs crossed and just froze in that position–mouth agape, spoon poised for another shovelful–as she casually strode up to me. She took the spoon out of my hand and sampled the ice cream. She decided she liked it and proceeded to eat the rest of it right in front of me. Then she finished my drink. Neither of us said a word. Then she leaned into me and gave me a very long, very sexy, ice creamy kiss.

“Ready?” she asked.

I just nodded, so she took me by the hand and led me to my bedroom. Once in the bedroom she sort of took stock of the place, then turned off my light and helped me undress. I was hard as a rock. In the darkness she took my cock in her mouth and gave me the sweetest-feeling blow job of my young life, stopping before I could blast my load. Then she climbed into bed and started giving me instructions.

The first thing she taught me was how to please her orally. She showed me where to lick firmly and where she liked it delicate, showed me how to suck or lick or nibble. I was apparently a natural because she didn’t believe it was my first time and I was delighted when I made her come. After that she sheathed my cock with a condom and showed me how to fuck. That was certainly fun.

I lasted longer than I expected and was thrilled to lose my virginity, but the dynamic we started that night was a powerful one that never really ended. Gary was the alpha male with the large cock; Cindy was the sexy vixen who was really in charge; and I was the third wheel, the boy who would become the man who would be the cuckold.

I read recently that a person’s first sexual experience has a profound effect on the person forever, though it’s sometimes a subconscious sort of thing. That night was not my first sexual experience but it was the night I lost my virginity and the circumstances were unusual–and I think profoundly so because there really was a third person involved. And the things we did later only cemented the kinky impact of that first time.

Gary went on to fuck Cindy many more times in college, with little interest in a loving relationship with her. It was just sport fucking to him. I, on the other hand, fell deeply in love with the girl. He knew I had a crush on her and routinely bragged in great detail about their porn-star-like rompings. Despite that fact, I continued to single-mindedly court Cindy.

Gary was amused by all this and just became more brazen. He flaunted his cock more around the apartment as things progressed with Cindy and me, walking around the apartment naked or finding ways to stand with his bulging package presented so that I couldn’t avoid looking at it.

As an example, I’d be on the floor working on something and he’d come stand sort of over me. He didn’t wear underwear, so the outline of his cock was easy to see through his jeans. He’d do or say something so that I’d have to look up. Sometimes he’d squeeze his bulge and, with a grin, talk about how hot she was. Or I’d take Cindy on a date and Gary would ask afterward if she felt overly stretched out. After all, he would say, they’d had a quickie right before the date.

I took his joking well and occasionally sent some zingers back his way but the truth was I could hardly stop thinking about him stuffing that heavy cock of his into her mouth or pussy. I thought about it when Cindy and I made love and thought about it throughout the day in class. I thought about it all the time. It turned me on and aggrieved me in equal measure. I loved the fantasy and hated myself for loving it. Nothing has changed to this day.

I eventually prevailed and won the girl, forever taking her away from my gloating buddy’s clutches. Gary was the best man at my wedding as I was effectively crowned alpha male once and for all. I was certainly gloating then. I had won. Finally.

Little did I know what would happen behind my back.

Little did I know.