So You Want To Get Cucked? (Part 9) (Patreon)

In Part Eight we reached the end of one path of the story, so I asked you to think back to Part Four - where you chose to let Frank go home with Elijah - and choose one of the other two options. The majority of you chose to try back out of having your boyfriend Frank cuck you (which is interesting, because the first time around this was the least popular option). So here's what happens when you decide to back out.

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You’re getting so worked up thinking about Frank and this guy Elijah. But this is fucking crazy: you haven’t even talked about things, or set ground rules, and already your boyfriend thinks it’s okay to just leave you stranded in a bar to go fuck some guy without you.

This has gone too far, too fast. And as hot as the fantasy is, that’s what it should remain right now: a fantasy.

“You’re not going home with him,” you say. The way it comes out you mean it as a statement of fact but it comes out sounding almost like a question.

You see the disappointment on Frank’s face, and you feel like an asshole for letting things go so far just to pull the plug at the last minute. “I thought…” he says, sounding confused and a bit annoyed. “I thought you said you wanted me to take things further.”

“Yeah, but going home with him?”

“Where did you think this was going to lead?” 

He sounds upset now, but that just makes you feel defensive. “Seriously, you think I’m going to just let you go home with some stranger and fuck him?”

“Let me?” He’s raising his voice now. “So do you own me or something? You get to string me along — and him — so you can get some kicks out of seeing us get all worked up, and then think you can just demand that I stop it when you’re done having fun with it?”

This turn of events has caught you completely off-guard. You had no idea Frank was going to react like this. “Of course I don’t think I own you,” you tell him. “But you’re my boyfriend. And we’re monogamous.”

“We were monogamous till you told me to go hook up with another guy.”

“Don’t be an asshole. I thought I’d be okay with it, but I’m not. So I want you to stop.”

“Well it’s a little too late,” he replies. “Maybe you should have thought about that before…”

“Before what?”

“Before I decided to go home with Elijah.”

“So, you’re going to go home with him then?” 

He’s silent for the longest time. You see the muscles in his jaw flex as he clenches it. You can tell he’s thinking it over. And you can tell he’s really pissed at you. You’re actually scared of what he’s going to say, and what it’ll mean for the two of you if he says what you think he’s about to.

Finally he speaks, and it’s through gritted teeth. “I guess not.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. You know there’s going to be a fight but at least he’s not going to leave here with another man. You ready yourself for what comes next, preparing to apologise for stringing him along like you did. But then, without warning, he turns and walks away. He grabs the guy he’s just been making out with, leans in to say something in his ear, and then pulls him back to the dance floor.

They’re all over each other. It was full on before but now they’ve stepped it up another notch. Frank’s got his shirt off too now, so it’s bare, sweaty skin on skin. They’ve given up any real pretence of dancing at this point, and they’re just making out. It’s about as close as they could be to sex without actually getting naked right there in the club. It’s almost embarrassing, the spectacle they’re making of themselves. Or it would be if it wasn’t so damn sexy.

You stand by the bar watching them go at it. You feel like an idiot trying to back out of letting Frank go home with the guy; you can see how into him he obviously is, and you know it’s your own fault for encouraging it.

You grab a drink from the bar. When you return to your spot you can’t see them anymore though. At first you figure they’ve probably just moved around a bit, but as you scan the dance floor there’s definitely no sight of them. The club isn’t that big, so you should be able to at least catch a glimpse of them.

You start to get worried. You wonder if Frank’s decided to leave with Elijah after all.

You knock back the rest of your drink and head onto the dance floor, weaving among people. It doesn’t take long to realise they’re definitely not there. With each passing second the sense of dread is growing as it becomes more certain that they’ve disappeared.

You decide to check the restrooms, it’s the only place left they could be. You know that if they’re in there though, they’re not just there to take a piss. If this is where they’ve gone this is just about as bad as if they’d left together after all.

There’s a few guys standing at the urinals when you walk in, one standing in a stall taking a piss with the door open. And one stall that’s closed. 

The sounds are unmistakeable though. Animal grunts, along with the jangle of unbuckled belts swinging with each rhythmic movement.

You crouch just enough you can see under the door a little way. And just as you’d feared, you recognise Frank’s sneakers. They’re facing the wall of the cubicle, and there’s another pair of shoes right behind his. Close. 

The guy in the stall next to theirs finishes up, flushes, and steps out. Without really knowing what’s possessing you, you take his place immediately, shutting and locking the door behind you.

You stand facing the wall; you know that right in front of you, only inches away and separated by a single flimsy piece of chipboard, Frank is standing there facing you, getting fucked by a stranger.

You feel angry and sick. But none of that matters right now. You pull out your cock and start franticly jerking off.

The thin cubicle wall shakes with every thrust, in time with the jingle of their belt buckles and the moans and grunts the two of them are making. They’re taking their time, with slow thrusts, but there’s a force behind each one. All that pent up need for each other getting let out as they rut against the wall.

You’re tugging on your dick so violently you feel like you could hurt yourself. It’s as though you’re hate-fucking Frank for his betrayal, except for that you’re doing it on your own while he gets it from someone else on the other side of the wall. You’re seething, but you feel so incredibly alive.

You barely last a minute. You’re so caught up in the moment that you’re not prepared for when you cum, and you accidentally blast all over the cubicle wall. You try hold your breath so they don’t hear you, and you quietly mop up your mess as best you can. Then you sit down on the toilet and keep listening to them fuck.

It takes another couple of minutes. You hear an unfamiliar voice say, “Fuck, I’m close. I’m gonna—”

The pace picks up, the wall shakes harder. Then with a grunt it’s over. 

“Fuck, thanks.” That’s Frank’s voice.

“No problem.”

You hear that jangle of belt buckles and the movement of fabric as the two of them pull up their trousers. Then you hear — and feel — a thud against the wall, and you figure that Elijah has Frank up against the wall. You listen to them kissing for a while until finally the cubicle door unlocks and you hear the two of them leave.

Once you’re confident the coast is clear you emerge from your cubicle. There are a couple of guys in the room but both are faced away from you at urinals, so no one sees you dart from one cubicle into another and lock the door. 

You see the condom wrapper on the floor. You see the used condom floating in the toilet, the water around it cloudy with the cum leaking from it. You see a trail of fluid on the wall from where Frank must have been leaking as he was fucked up against it. Funny, it looks like it must be the same spot where you just shot your load on the opposite side minutes earlier.

Being in this space feels surreal, and almost magical.

You can’t stay here forever. You take one last look at the used condom floating in the toilet bowl, and then let yourself out of the stall.

When you get back out into the main room of the club you do a circuit, wandering almost aimlessly as you wonder what to do next. You see Frank over by the entrance, now on his own. So you walk over.

“Hey,” he says. He doesn’t seem angry anymore. The tone is conciliatory. Or maybe guilty. “You okay?”

You nod. “Where’s Elijah?” you ask.

“He’s gone.”

You nod again.

“You want to get out of here?” he asks.

Another nod. You’re not quite ready to say anything, because you have no idea how you can talk to him without having to voice your complicated feelings about what you just experienced.

The two of you step outside and head towards the taxi stand down the road. You’re both silent. Frank looks troubled. Of course he does: he just cheated on you.

Eventually you decide that you’re going to give him the chance to come clean before you confront him. “Everything okay?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Just got a bit awkward before. You okay?”

You’re not sure how to answer that. It looks like he’s not going to admit it on his own, which means you can either tell him what you saw, or stay quiet and pretend nothing happened.