Take My Boyfriend: Part Three (Patreon)

Ok, so you know from part two that Hugh's boyfriend Steven and his old university friend Hunter have just disappeared into the next room to fuck. But here's where the story takes a turn, which you may or may not have seen coming, and which I think takes this story to a slightly darker place. Because this story isn't just about Hunter and Steven cucking Hugh - it's also about the history of Hugh and Hunter's friendship and how it led Hugh inevitably to this situation.

The thud of the door shutting behind him took me back. I was reminded of how many times I’d sat on the sofa in the living room of the flat we shared, watching his bedroom door shut. That sound, that view, it was a recurring motif in our relationship.

I thought about the first time it ever happened. That night we’d had a party for our other roommate Kevin, and I’d spent half the night chatting up that guy Adam — no, Aaron? — till it was only me, him and Hunter left sitting in the living room in the remnants of the party once everyone else had left or gone to bed. I’d been so nervous and so unsure how to make my move, but hopeful that if I did it right he’d stay the night, because he’d stayed this long, and he seemed to really like me. And I was willing Hunter to leave us alone so I could take the plunge. And I don’t even know how it had happened, because they hadn’t even talked, and Aaron was into me. But before I’d even seen it coming Aaron was making out with Hunter, and then the two of them were slinking away into his bedroom, and the door was shutting behind them, and I was listening to Hunter demonstrate for over an hour why Aaron made the right choice picking him over me. 

That wasn’t the first time he’d taken someone from me. No, that honour goes to Janine, the girl I’d liked in first year before I realised I wasn’t into girls at all. I’d courted her, like a gentleman. Taken it slow, respectfully, because I thought that’s what girls wanted, and because I was nervous about how I’d perform when we finally did it. Rightly nervous, in hindsight. When I found out he’d fucked her, and so easily — apparently it had taken about fifteen minutes of his attention to get her into bed, when I’d put in weeks — I’d been crushed. But relieved, because I think I’d always known I wouldn’t have been able to give her what she wanted. Even though I thought she was saving herself for true love, I saw immediately how proud she was to have been one of Hunter’s one-night conquests and forgotten about after. And as for me, Hunter had preserved my gold-star gay status by taking the one girl I ever thought I had a shot with. 

Thinking about Janine reminded me of Hamish, who I hadn’t thought about him for a long time. I’d put time into that relationship too. We’d dated, him and me. For what had seemed like ages, but was probably only three or four weeks, when we were ‘friends’ and scoping out whether it was going to be something more. And then for another two weeks or so after we actually got together, sitting around drinking cups of tea and smoking joints and talking about every subject under the sun. He was the first guy I slept with — and it was a tender, beautiful experience that I was lucky to have had as my first time. But I’d seen the way he looked at Hunter sometimes, when he’d be manspreading on the sofa while we all hung out, or especially when he’d walk through the living room on his way between his bedroom and the bathroom, still damp and naked apart from his towel. It didn’t take long for it to happen. I’d come home, heard the sounds of sex coming from Hunter’s room, went to my room to guiltily enjoy the sounds. My room was closest to the bathroom, and I’d opened it just a crack to see who it was Hunter had been fucking. And I’d seen Hamish, in just his underwear, creep to the bathroom shooting a nervous look in the direction of my door as he did.

I’d said nothing. Still kept seeing him. The sex had been even better after that, now that every time I fucked him I’d be thinking of how Hunter had just been doing it better. And how my load was mixing with his.

But it hadn’t lasted. It never did. They became more and more reckless, almost like they wanted to get caught, until one day I was sitting in the living room and they both just came out of Hunter’s bedroom, semi-naked, sweaty and flushed. I’d cried when it was over, but we’d stayed friends, especially because Hamish was still over at our place regularly, at least for a couple of months after that. It was like going back to the start, except without any of the wondering about whether something would happen. And I’d go to bed when they did, jerking off listening to them fuck.

A noise in the next room broke the silence and pulled me out of my nostalgic reverie, brought me back into Hunter’s apartment. Reminded me it was happening all over again, another boyfriend taken. I wondered if Steven had seen Hunter’s cock yet. Whether he’d touched it. There was a moan, and the laugh of a joke shared in private. Then the unintelligible mumble of voices, kept low, the way you do when you’re not trying to keep quiet but you’re so physically close to someone that nothing much more than a whisper is necessary. I tried to assemble a mental image of what they were doing just from the noises. That grunted word I couldn’t make out, that was Hunter. I knew it better than my own even if I couldn’t hear what he was saying. Steven was doing something right though — did he have his mouth around Hunter’s cock already? Was he playing with his balls?

Hunter said something else, only one syllable. A word of approval? An instruction, maybe. Silence, long silence, then a sigh, or maybe a moan, and I couldn’t tell who it came from.

A minute later and the next moan was definitely coming from Steven. Another. A louder one. And then, “fuck” clear enough to carry through the wall. In my mind Hunter was playing with his ass, loosening him up, getting him ready, teasing him enough to make him beg for it.

I was right. The muffled whimper sounded like begging. A reply, in Hunter’s lower voice. Yeah? You want it? That’s what I imagined he was saying. There was another whimpering beg in response. And more words from Hunter.

Then silence, again. Until the first thud of the headboard against the wall. 

That was it. Hunter was inside him now. Bare, I knew him well enough to know that. 

They were going slow. There were sighs, muted moans, and the soft, dull thud of the bed in a steady but relaxed rhythm. They weren’t noisy, and at first that was disappointing, because I wanted to hear it all, exactly as it was going down. It wasn’t like Hunter couldn’t make guys scream, I knew that from experience. I chuckled to myself at the reminder: Jesse, wailing like an ambulance siren in time with the pounding Hunter had given him. The way he’d just been screaming, “Oh god! Oh god!” over and over, while I’d sat in the living room just like I was now. That had been at my own place though; Hunter had fucked him in my bed. Our bed, because Jesse had just moved in at that point. It was while Hunter was living overseas and was back on a holiday, staying with us. I’d made up a spare bed, pretending it was for him, knowing the whole time it would be for me. He stayed for three nights, and he fucked Jesse all three.

Still, listening to the muted sound of Hunter and Steven right now was just as good as hearing someone wailing the house down. I knew that a lack of noise didn’t mean a lacklustre performance. Not with Hunter. I didn’t think it was possible for him to disappoint in the bedroom. No, it was a good sign. It meant they were connecting. Intensely, deeply. I knew that style too — it hadn’t happened with many of the guys I’d provided him, but there had been a couple. He and Sebastian had been like that — he’d been going through the motions with me, and I’d been able to tell through the walls of our flat that he’d found something infinitely charged with Hunter. And that guy that I’d brought home — I couldn’t even remember his name — the one with the beard and the long hair tied in a bun. He’d come home with me, a one-night stand, but when we’d arrived home to find Hunter still up I knew I’d lost him immediately. Man, that one was intense. That was the first time — the only time — Hunter had fucked one of them right in front of me. Right there on the sofa, in the living room. His big dick buried in that guy’s ass. The look in their eyes, locked on each other, like they could see something buried deep behind each other’s eyes that no one else could. That’s how I pictured Hunter and Steven were looking at each other right now.

My dick was throbbing and I slipped a hand into my jeans to touch it. That should probably feel inappropriate. But I’d been here too many times before. I knew Hunter knew, that I jerked off to it. I think he knew as early as the first or second time in our flat. He expected it now. I stroked for a while, restraining myself from jerking too furiously. But once that became too much of a temptation I got up and went to the bathroom, grabbed a few sheets of toilet paper, and went back to my seat on the sofa. They’d stepped it up a notch now; the thuds were a little quicker, the moans more frequent and more rhythmic.

I put my hand back down by trousers and let myself go for it properly. I was so hard it was sore, and being able to finally jerk off properly felt like such a relief. I closed my eyes, so I could focus on just the sensation of my cock and the sound of them in the bedroom, nothing else.

As I jerked my dick harder and faster, listening to them fuck harder and faster, it all blurred together: all the guys Hunter had taken from me, all their faces when they told me they picked him over me, all the imaginary scenes I’d created of them with him on the other side of the bedroom wall, that smug look on Hunter’s face every time he took one. The humiliating rush of it all. Fuck, it was like a wave hitting me. In the bedroom Steven’s moans picked up a gear, a bit louder, a bit faster, a bit more urgent. He was close. That’s what finally tipped me over the edge. With an anguished groan I did my best to suppress, I came hard, the sheets of toilet paper there to catch my load as it spewed out of me. 

I closed my eyes, inhaled and exhaled deeply as the climax subsided. Then three, two, one, that’s when it hit. Like it always did. The regret, that I’d done it again. That I’d taken a relationship that had real promise, with a guy I really cared about, and handed it over to Hunter. Again. For a moment I wished that I’d cut him out of my life so I could finally have a real, normal relationship.

I knew the regret would pass though. Tomorrow I’d be jerking off thinking about tonight, and — if this was going to be the end of Steven and I, as I predicted it would be — I’d be doing exactly the same thing with the next one.

I went to the bathroom and flushed my cum-soaked wad of toilet paper. When I came back into the living room I could tell they were almost there. Now Hunter had got Steven properly crying out in ecstasy, wailing like his slut. The pitch was climbing higher, higher, until there it was, a cry of release that was clearly Steven’s orgasm. The bed kept thumping more, more, more, until it suddenly stopped, punctuated by the groan that was Hunter cumming in Steven’s ass.

I sat down. Listened for what came next. Hushed voices. Probably telling each other how good they’d found it. I wondered if Steven would thank Hunter for fucking him like that. I knew Hunter often got a thank you, while all I usually got was a that was nice.

Maybe ten minutes, maybe twenty, passed of hushed conversation in the afterglow of their sex. Then finally the door opened. Steven stepped out into the living room. He was naked, his body gleaming from exertion. He stopped in his tracks, seeming surprised to see me. Then he quietly pulled the bedroom door closed behind him, so it was just the two of us. He stood across from me, separated by about three metres of space and the yawning chasm created by what had happened tonight.

“You’re still here,” he said. When I didn’t reply he added, “I thought you would have left.”

“No,” I replied. I wasn’t sure what else to add; I felt like I should explain myself but spelling out why I hadn’t wanted to go, and what I’d been doing while they were in the bedroom, seemed too humiliating.

“Are you angry?” Steven asked.

“No,” I told him.

“I’m sorry if that hurt,” he said, “to see that.”

I wanted to reassure him that it didn’t hurt, but that wouldn’t have been the truth. Of course it hurt, seeing him abandon me with so little thought. But it was a good hurt, like muscles aching after too much exercise. And the hurt was the point. So I just said to him, “You don’t have to apologise.” 

“You never tried to stop me,” he said. There was no emotion in his voice, and I wasn’t sure if he was saying it as a justification, or an accusation, or a criticism.

“I didn’t want to stop you,” I said. “And you wouldn’t have wanted me to try.”

“That’s true,” he acknowledged.

“And it wouldn’t have made a difference if I had,” I added.

He thought about that for a moment before he answered. “That might be true.”

“I’m glad it happened,” I told him. “You don’t need to feel guilty. I wanted this, probably as much as you did.”

His brow furrowed as he took in that information, which must not have made any sense to him. Then he said, “I’m going to stay the night.” 

He said it flatly, emotionless, clear that he was just informing me. Nevertheless, I replied, “Okay.” As if he needed my approval.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“I’ll stay here,” I said. 

He just nodded. Then, nothing left to say, he went to the bathroom to take a piss. When he came out of the bathroom he paused on his way to the bedroom door and stiltedly said to me, “Goodnight, then.”

Hunter emerged from the bedroom a minute or so later. He was naked too, and I couldn’t help staring at his sizeable dick. That had just been inside my boyfriend. I wondered if he’d cum inside him. I bet he had, that’s how he liked to do it. 

 He seemed happy with himself, which, of course he’d be. He didn’t say anything, but he gave me a nod that I interpreted as both appreciative of what I’d provided him, and confirmation that it had gone well. As he passed Hunter threw me a blanket, which landed on the sofa next to me as I wasn’t prepared to catch in time. He disappeared into the bathroom for a minute or so to piss, brush his teeth and get ready for bed. When he reappeared he threw me a casual, “Night, bro,” before he disappeared back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.