So You Want To Get Cucked? (Part 4) (Patreon)

In Part Three your boyfriend freaked out after taking things a bit too far and making out with a stranger on the dance floor. You voted to give Frank the go-ahead to find the stranger and take things further. So here's what happens next.

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You grab Frank by the shoulders. “Look at me,” you demand. You wait till he meets your gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he says once more.

“I know. But you don’t have to be,” you tell him. “It was a surprise seeing it go so far so fast, for sure. But I enjoyed it.”

He frowns at you. “Really?”

“Really. You looked like you were enjoying it too.”

“It was kinda hot,” he admitted, grinning a little. “Are you sure though?”

“For the last time, yes!”

He glances over in the direction of the dance floor. “I kinda made a fool of myself freaking out and running off like that.”

“I don’t think he’ll mind.” You hold your tongue for a second, knowing that what you want to say probably isn’t all that wise. You can’t stop yourself though. “You should go find him, pick up where you left off.”

“Are you serious?” Frank asks in disbelief.

“Yes.”

“You’d be okay if I went and made out with that guy some more?”

“Yes.”

He thinks about it for a second. “I shouldn’t,” he says eventually. “I was getting too into it. I didn’t mean to kiss him but I did; I don’t want to let myself take things too far. If I start with him again there’s only one place it could lead.”

You think about that one place, and your dick pulses. You remind yourself that this is a bad idea, but you are filled by an overwhelming need to know where this is going to go.

“Don’t overthink it,” you tell him. “Just enjoy the moment and see where it takes you.”

He looks over at the dance floor, then back at you. He looks torn. “You sure?”

You just nod. “Go for it.”

He kisses you on the cheek, and within a second — before either of you have time to rethink it — he’s gone.

You stand there for a minute, kind of reeling. You’re scared — fucking terrified — of what’s going to happen next, but it’s such an intense thrill. You had no idea things were going to move this fast.

You push your way cautiously into the crowd on the dance floor, back towards the spot where you were. For a minute or so you can’t see Frank or the guy he was with just before. But then a group of people move out of your way and you see them.

The guy’s shirtless by this point, and I can hardly blame him; if I had a body like that I’d lose my shirt at every opportunity. He is absolutely shredded, and the sweat he’s worked up from dancing makes every bit of muscle definition glint under the dance floor lights. Frank has a hand on the guy’s shoulder and is leaning in close to his ear, while the guy tries to listen over the noise of the music. You wonder what they’re talking about — you wonder if Frank’s explaining why he took off in such a hurry before. Or what made him come back. You wonder if Frank’s bothered to mention that he’s here with his boyfriend.

Then Frank’s done talking, and the two of them are dancing together. It’s a little less hot and heavy than before; it’s an upbeat song so they’re kind of bouncing around, moving to the music and enjoying themselves. But they keep edging closer to each other, and the next moment the stranger’s resting a hand briefly on Frank’s waist before moving it away. And moments after that, Frank’s leaning in to shout something into the guy’s ear and they both linger like that, Frank’s hand on his shoulder, for a few seconds longer than he needed to. It doesn’t take a genius to see this is going somewhere.

The song’s over and the music slows to something slower, a bit sexier. And it’s like they were just waiting for permission because within seconds they’re up against each other, hands on each other’s bodies. They move in time with each other, guiding each other’s bodies.

And then they’re making out again.

This time there’s no stopping them. Now that Frank knows he has your permission there’s no hint of uncertainty, and he’s really going for it. It’s minutes before either of them come up for breath, and their hands are all over each other with the intensity of people who’ve been waiting months and not minutes for the chance to finally be together. God, seeing that guy’s sweaty, bare torso pressed up against Frank’s, their bodies bucking and grinding against each other, his hands on Frank’s ass and back pulling him in tighter as they kissed, is a fantasy come to life.

You realise then how hard your dick is starting to get from watching them, and you suddenly become very conscious just how public a setting you’re in. No one seems to notice you in this crowd, but if they had you’re sure they could have gathered that you and Frank came together and that you’re standing here alone on this dance floor watching while he’s left you for someone else. You know there are people you know in this bar, who’d raise an eyebrow if they saw your supposedly faithful boyfriend making out with someone else. Hell, your friend Ollie is probably somewhere nearby and could have seen the whole thing.

The idea of people seeing terrifies you, but it excites you too. You shift the weight of your body onto one leg to try disguise your growing hard-on.

You dance halfheartedly in an attempt to look less out of place here on your own among the dancing crowd. You feel like a creep watching them, but it’s not like you could possibly look away. Seeing Frank make out with someone else feels like some kind of miracle and you don’t want to miss an instant of it.

At least, that’s how you feel for the first fifteen minutes or so. But they’re show no sign of letting up; they’re completely consumed by each other, while you just stand there watching like a sad loser. There’s only so much you can take of watching them kissing, grinding, running their hands over each other, before you feel a wave of frustration come over you. You need them to run out of steam. Or you need them to take it to the next level. You’re not sure which.

You give them a bit of space. You head to the bar, grab a drink, and find a spot where you can watch them from afar. You sip absentmindedly and stare at them, marvelling at how into each other they are and how totally lost in each other they are.

It’s been almost half an hour by the time the stranger leads Frank off the dance floor. Frank looks around and when he spots me he leaves the guy waiting while he comes over.

“Hey,” he says. “You doing okay?”

“Yep,” I say, as casually and cheerfully as I can muster. “You having fun?”

“Yeah.,” he says, grinning shyly. He pauses, then, “Elijah asked me to come back to his place.”

You’re stunned silent. It doesn’t come as a surprise, because it was completely obvious all along that this was going to be the end result. But still, hearing him actually say it hits you in a way you weren’t expecting. Shit, is this really going to happen? If you say yes, is your boyfriend actually going to turn around and leave with a stranger? Is he going to leave you to go home alone while he spends the night fucking another man?

You want him to do it. You think you do, at least. This is such a mindfuck, it thrills you so much while at the same time filling you with trepidation. God, the thought of him going home with a stranger is hot.

It would be hotter if you got to watch — that’s always been the way you imagined it all those times you jerked off to the fantasy of it on your own. You feel almost a little hurt that he’d want to go home with that guy without you, and exclude you from getting to live your fantasy. Still, that fills you with a weird kind of thrill too, the idea that they’d fuck while you had to sit at home wondering.

Fuck, this is all so intense and confusing. He’s looking at you, waiting to see what you’re going to say. You’re going to have to make your mind up.