After she left, I collapsed onto my bed, unable to resist the lingering heat of our encounter. My hands moved eagerly over myself, reliving the raw intensity of those moments in the shower, and I came twice before exhaustion gently pulled me under. The memory of being used and surrendered to was overwhelmingly erotic, and I couldn’t hold back.
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The morning light broke through my window, and my thoughts instantly turned to what awaited me that night—another encounter with my friend’s fifth lover. I’d lost count of how many times I’d swallowed the proof of her pleasures, including my own when she forced it down my throat. But what was one more?
Class filled my day, and I prepared myself, focusing on studies, lab work, and research. Though the plans for the evening flickered teasingly in the back of my mind, I pushed them aside to concentrate fully. Later, as I biked home, I checked my mail and bumped into my upstairs neighbor near the mailboxes.
“Hey Michael, long time no see! You’re looking great!” I greeted him.
“Thanks, man. I’ve been hitting the gym hard. Trying to boost my dating life,” he replied with a grin.
“I get that,” I said, the lie tasting bitter in my mouth, since I was consumed by my secret cuckold devotion to my friend.
“What about you? Seeing anyone?” he asked.
“Sort of. It’s complicated,” I muttered.
“Well, heads up, I have a friend coming over tonight, might get loud. Just wanted to apologize in advance.”
“No worries. Thin walls, cheap apartments,” I said casually, but inside, my blood ran cold. The color drained from my face as the realization hit hard.
“You okay, man? You look like you saw a ghost,” Michael asked.
“Yeah, I gotta run. Talk later,” I stammered and hurried upstairs, avoiding the elevator with the man I was sure my friend would be with—and whose cum I would soon taste from her skin.
The walls were thin, and my humiliation grew as the evening unfolded. I heard her footsteps, the familiar rhythm of her walk, then the creaking bed and the pounding headboard. Moans, whispers of pleasure, praises for his size and skill—all penetrated the silence of my apartment. I lay there, utterly exposed to their passion, overwhelmed and ashamed.
When I heard Michael climax, spraying her breasts, shame and desire warred within me. I couldn’t help but stroke myself, even though I didn’t reach the same release as him.
A message blinked on my phone: “On my way.” My heart sank as she entered, radiant and confident, wearing a low-cut top that flaunted her slick, cum-covered breasts. Without hesitation, she snapped her fingers, ordering me to strip and clean her.
I obeyed, dropping my clothes and kneeling before her in the living room. I consumed the thick, salty mess with fervor, savoring the softness of her skin mixed with the taste of another man’s release. She looked down at me, her grin proud and mischievous.
“You’re hard. Not allowed,” she teased.
I touched myself despite her words, and when she caught me, she proposed a game: “Cum Sommelier.” She explained she’d continue to sleep with her various lovers, feeding me their cum each time, and I’d have to guess whose it was purely by taste.
“What do I get if I guess right?” I asked, hope sparking.
“You get to lick every inch of me. Pussy, ass, tits.”
“I want more,” I pressed.
“Fine. A handjob—while you eat my ass. And if you guess right, you’ll have to swallow your own cum.”
“Deal,” I said quickly, unable to resist, knowing tonight’s partner well.
She settled onto my face, and before she even touched me, the overwhelming sensation made me come hard.
Another night marked by raw humiliation and intense, forbidden pleasure was logged in my memory—a bittersweet testament to my love and devotion as her cuckold.
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