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(Names changed)
So after the trip to Vegas and what happened there, which I wrote about here , we took another weekend trip to a town in our state with the same couple. We went out on the town and had dinner and drinks and then headed back to the rental for the evening.
We settled in the living room with drinks. Anne slid onto the couch beside Ced almost instinctively. The air between them crackled—laughter, light touches, lingering glances. My chest tightened. I moved to sit beside Ced’s girlfriend, attempting conversation, but she was completely absorbed in watching Anne and Ced. I trailed off, entirely consumed by the scene before me.
Ced wore only a thin male thong. Even soft, it barely contained him. The outline of his thick, veiny cock pressed firmly against the fabric, his heavy, full balls sitting low, outlined and impossible. Anne’s eyes locked on him before her hand even moved—soft, hungry, fascinated.
She started by stroking him lightly through the thong, running her fingers over the top of his thick shaft. Ced groaned immediately, hips shifting in response. His cock began to grow rapidly under her touch, veins pulsing, thickness swelling. Anne’s soft gasp and widening eyes made it obvious she was captivated, and as his hardness increased, the thong could no longer contain him. Slowly, impossibly, the tip of his massive cock escaped over the top, glistening with precum.
Instinctively, Anne leaned forward, lips parting, and began to lick and suck him, cleaning up the glistening precum. One hand stroked the pulsing shaft while the other cupped his heavy balls, rolling them gently. They were larger, heavier, fuller than mine, pressing into her palm, and Ced groaned deeply, hips shifting reflexively. Every pulse of his veins, every twitch, every drop of pre flowing from the tip was mesmerizing.
Her soft moans filled the room. She was cock-drunk, lost in him, forgetting I was even there. Her lips moved over him instinctively, taking him deep, gagging lightly, her fingers stroking every inch. Ced’s veins stood out more with each pulse, his cock impossibly thick, long, and pulsing in her hand, precum spilling freely. Anne leaned back to gaze at him, eyes half-lidded, lips wet, flushed, completely absorbed.
I sat frozen beside Ced’s girlfriend, chest tight, pulse racing, mind spinning. Every detail—the thickness, the length, the pulsing veins, heavy balls, the slick precum, Anne’s soft moans—made my cock throb painfully. The contrast between Ced and me, Anne’s fascination, and her lost, cock-drunk state tore at me with humiliation and desire.
The moment only ended when the pizza arrived. Anne reluctantly pulled back, letting Ced tuck himself into the thong, which strained to contain him. The top of his shaft still peeked out, thick, veiny, impossible. Her fingers lingered briefly on him before letting go, lips wet, cheeks flushed, eyes still shining with desire.
Later, we moved to the bedroom. The Airbnb had two bunk beds in one room. Anne and I took one; Ced and his girlfriend the other. Darkness swallowed the room. I pressed myself against Anne, desperate to touch her, to reclaim some intimacy, but she pushed me away. “No,” she whispered softly.
Almost immediately, the other bed came alive. Low moans, the bed squeaks, and giggles echoed across the room. Ced was inside his girlfriend, and I could hear every rhythm, every thrust. My cock throbbed painfully, and humiliation twisted through me.
Then our bed starting moving slightly. Anne’s fingers were sliding through herself, wet, hips moving subtly, softly moaning as she explored her own pleasure. Cock-drunk, lost in arousal from Ced, she barely registered my presence. I couldn’t stay—I got up and went to the living room, heart hammering, chest tight.
40 agonizing minutes passed. My mind was relentless, imagining Anne with Ced, stroking his massive, veiny cock, tasting the slick precum, letting him grow harder, moaning softly under his weight. Every squeak, every imagined pulse, every flick of her lips tormented me. I paced, ran my hands through my hair, desperate, humiliated, aroused. Why do I feel so small… so useless… I thought about Vegas, about sending her alone to their room, and now watching her lost again, cock-drunk, consumed by him.
Finally, Anne appeared in the doorway. She was flushed, red-faced, lips wet, eyes shining. She didn’t speak at first, just looked at me—beautiful, dangerous, utterly unashamed.
We argued quietly, tension simmering beneath every word, both frustrated, both aching, before finally returning to bed.
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