What if she really did it?

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She thinks netorare is gross

A short story (NSFW!)

“Like, why would you even be into that? It’s not even kinky, it’s just guys whining,” she said. “I don’t want a needy guy bothering me if I’m getting sex from a guy I like.”

“What I like most is watching the girl. It’s super-hot to watch your girl in action,” I said.

“Hypothetically, of course,” I added. I didn’t want to sound like I’ve actually done it.

We’re having this discussion after she found my “stash”.

“Netorare is gross,” she said.

“It’s the pathetic guys, isn’t it?”

Like most girls she found neto a total turn off.

“Like, why would you even be into that? It’s not even kinky, it’s just guys whining,” she said. “I don’t want a needy guy bothering me if I’m getting sex from a guy I like.”

I agree with her. I’m not into that part at all. She doesn’t know that yet.

“So you’d watch me with another guy?” She’s not looking at me when she says it.

Time stops here. You know this question can go wrong so many ways.

“I’m not saying I would, or wouldn’t. I’m saying that it’s super hot thinking about it.”

“Do you think about me with other guys?”

“I have.”

“Oh.”

Men don’t always get why this conversation is weird for women. We think they react the way we’d react. You mean I get to fuck whoever I want, and you’ll like it? Wow!

All a woman hears is suspicion. Why does he want this? What’s he really up to?

She doesn’t lust after sex with men the way men lust after sex with women. Which makes her naturally suspicious.

She doesn’t say anything else and I figure that’s the end of it.

A few days later…

“I thought about what you said. The other day,” she says next time we get together.

“Neto’s still pretty gross but it doesn’t sound like you’re into that.”

“It’s about the physical sex,” I tell her. “Not the humiliation.”

“Would you like it if I got with another guy?”

She’s been thinking about this. I felt the blood rush as my dick got hard.

“I mean… that depends… do you… want to?”

Which means that terrifying thought, do you already have somebody in mind?

Have you already fucked him?

“I honestly never thought about it. Before.”

Before.

“But?” I ask.

“Ever since we talked about it, I don’t know, it was weird at first but it’s kinda hot to think about it.”

“I don’t want you to go out looking and do it without telling me, that’s for sure,” I said.

Now that I’m on the spot having the conversation it’s hard to say “yes”. It feels like walking on the edge of a tall building. If I say Yes, she can go do it and there’s no way back.

We end up on the couch talking. She’s in my lap. Her ass and legs press into me, the yoga pants leaving little to the imagination. I feel the heat of her on my legs.

I know she can feel my cock pressing into her.

One thing leads to another and she’s giving me a handjob while I play with her tits under her sweatshirt.

“You want me to fuck another guy, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I do,” I say between breaths.

“You want to watch me get fucked don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

I’m getting close now and she’s escalating. She sees what it’s doing to me.

“I’m going to let him fuck me. His cock’s going inside me and you’ll only be able to watch. What are you going to do?”

I came on the spot. I felt my dick jerking in her hand, unloading a fountain of cum all over her hand.

It didn’t quit pulsing for almost a full minute.

She holds up her hand, webbed with semen.

“I think you liked that, just a little,” she says.

It was nice, I add.

“You don’t cum this much when we have sex.”

What can I say to that?

After, she grabs a towel to clean up the mess on her hand and my stomach. Then we’re cuddling on the couch. My hand’s on her tit. She’s quiet and I know she’s thinking again.

I’m thinking about it, too. When she was stroking me and talking dirty, I kept seeing images of her. Like the girls in porn.

I saw her face and her body in one of those movies, getting laid by a stranger she’s only just met. A guy we don’t know takes her and ravages her with the fuck of her life.

I just watch, hypnotized, frozen, so turned on I can’t even remember to breathe.

Fuck, it’s so hot.

I enjoy sex, a lot, but this is on another level.

“I think we should…” we both say at the same time, laughing at the jinx.

“You want to do it, don’t you?” I ask her. We’re both red-faced, a little embarrassed, as honest as we’ve ever been.

“You obviously want to.”

I nod. “I’d give it a try, if you’re down.”

“You promise this isn’t some weird humiliation fetish? Cause I’m not doing that for you.”

“What would you do it for?” I ask

“The same reason as you. I want to get fucked by a hot guy with a big dick,” she says without a hint of shame or reservation.

And just like that I feel my erection coming back.

“Plus it’s hot that you’d be there watching it. That’s exciting to me.”

“Okay. I promise that it’s not about a weird neto fetish. You promise that you won’t run off with the stunt cock?”

She looks at me without emotion. “Why would I? It’s only sex.”

Sex. With a living, breathing dildo.

The weird thing about the cuckold fetish. As hot as it is when you’re rutting in the heat of the moment, it’s tough going between hard-ons.

The next morning reality set in again. What am I thinking? My girl’s now seriously considering fucking another guy.

Fucking. Having sex with. Inviting another penis inside her vagina.

That’s…

Okay, that’s hot. The thought comes on its own terms. On my erection’s terms.

Cold thinking always concedes the floor to hard dick.

Even though I get horny every time I think about it, I can’t shake the doubts. It’s a bad idea to pursue this.

Keep it in our bedroom for fun but leave it alone. Yes. I decide, we’ll just leave it as a fantasy.

I pick up the phone to text her. I don’t want to wait.

Hey. What we talked about the other day.

Oh I’m glad you brought that up. You still ok with what we said?

Well, actually, maybe not, I start to type, but I don’t get a chance to send it.

I was thinking about it all day, she writes. Want to do it for real.

That takes a minute to sink in.

She wants to do it for real.

The phone buzzes again.

I found the perfect guy, her message says.

I feel the blood drain from my face. It feels like I took a hit to the head. Reeling.

What now? I talked her into this.

She’s going to have sex with a man besides me.

Okay. Who, when where? I pound her with questions.

A guy she met through a friend at work. They’re having drinks. Friday. Three days from now. At a bar nearby. Then…

An image of my girlfriend’s naked body, writing passionately atop another man’s body.

OMG I’m so excited, she writes. I didn’t think it would be like this but I’m tingling.

That’s the biochemistry of attraction at work, I think to myself. She’s got new-guy tingles.

Glad for her, I guess, but right in that moment I feel like I’m going to puke.

The three days to Friday grind by like winter ice. I’m keeping my head down and pretending it’s not happening. It doesn’t help.

The guys at work invite me out for a round of drinks Friday night. I tell them no thanks. I’m not feeling good, I say. Gonna go chill on the couch.

Try not to cry. Since my girlfriend’s going to be out getting laid.

She texts me around 7.

Thought u would like this, it says. There’s a picture. She’s in hip-hugger jeans with a top that makes her tits like enormous.

Have fun, I write back.

The plan is to meet the guy and see where it goes. She’s going to text me back by 11 to check in.

That’s a long four hours. I’m restless. Can’t focus.

My thoughts go to her. With him. Doing…

I’m hard as steel plate, I realize.

I see her on her back, her legs spread, her pussy trimmed for their date, penetrated by a penis that isn’t mine.

Just like that, it’s hot again.

I hope she is getting fucked good.

While I’m waiting, I cum three times thinking about what she’s doing.

There’s a knock at the door. Clock on the wall says ten past 11.

I see the phone, there’s a missed text. I passed out with a cum-soaked towel next to me on the couch.

Open the door, she’s there. Looking as good as the pic she sent over.

“Hey,” she says, walking inside. “I was hoping you were still up.”

She presses against me, kisses me deeply. She smells of her shampoo, the faint scent of perfume, a whiff of sweat. And for just an instant, a whiff of sex.

My body responds through the half-asleep haze and I return the kiss, feeling the curves of her body press into me.

And the memory comes back. What she’s done. I’m still hard for her.

Holy shit. “I want to know everything,” I say out loud.

By the time we make it to the couch her jeans and shirt are in a pile on the floor and she’s on my lap in bra and panties.

I came so many times tonight and I’m back at attention. In my mind there’s only one thought: Holy shit, she’s just had sex with another guy.

She tells me about her date. She doesn’t think it’s gross anymore.

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