My girlfriend-sharing fantasies started when I was in college. The girl I was seeing at the time was going to a university that was about a 6-hour drive away- she was an extremely pretty redhead who had played soccer in high school and she had a kinky streak, which suited me just fine. She was five-foot-five, roughly, and curvy in a really athletic way. She had red hair and a dazzling smile, and a thick ass and thighs that I worshiped almost daily. Needless to say when we parted ways for school in the fall, I was left wanting. Wanting her, mostly.
The college life seemed to be treating her just fine when she and I talked. I knew she liked to drink, and she liked to go out with her friends and dance, and I knew she loved sex. Our sex life had always been very active, starting in high school, and we fucked in her car to a Kings of Leon CD so many times that, like one of Pavlov’s dogs, I feel a rush of blood to my groin whenever I hear those songs on the radio. She still keeps that album in her car to the best of my knowledge.
So back to this story and when it took place – the fall of my sophomore year of college, not long after she started her freshman year at a bigger school, she quit talking to me for several days. I was mad that she had chosen to attend a big football game instead of meeting up with me back in our hometown for a weekend together.
Turns out, as she explained over the phone when I finally called, she had been hooking up with other guys at parties and having a good time. No actual sex yet but lots of kissing, groping, even a few blowjobs, if I was going to take her word for it. It wasn’t a stretch to believe.
So as much as she would love to see me, she said, she wanted to just have fun this weekend. She promised we would schedule a few days soon when we could both come home and meet up. I hung up the phone, nearly in tears, not knowing what in the hell I should do.
For a few days and nights this new knowledge about her activities destroyed me. I was in a fever dream; I didn’t eat, I barely slept, and I didn’t even think about going to class. But one morning I woke up at dawn and, her admissions not being at the forefront of my mind, I grabbed some granola bars and headed out for a lengthy bike ride. I needed the fresh air.
I was doing battle with stupid Midwest headwinds, typical for where I’d chosen to become a road cyclist, and thinking deep thoughts. Did this girl love me any less? No. She had said she was torn between sexual gratification and being in a relationship with me, and sex had never been a problem. I’m well-endowed and very fit, and our chemistry in bed was amazing. She just wanted to get some of that when I couldn’t give it to her. I mulled over the thought of her getting fucked by other guys and giving head at parties, and as much as my stomach clenched, I realized that on some primal level… I was getting turned on.
Despite the blood volume circulating through my legs, I started to get hard in my spandex bike shorts. I calmed myself down, because it got uncomfortable really fast, and turned around and headed home.
I can tell you, I was grateful to have the wind at my back as I pedaled back to my dorm room. I just wanted to get the hell off my bike and ponder these new thoughts in a private setting. Under a blanket, maybe.
I carried my bike up the flight of stairs in my dorm, unlocked my room (my roommate, mercifully, had a block of classes that kept him gone for most of the day) and stripped off my sweaty bike clothes. I had made a decision – I was going to make the best of what was racing around my brain. I was going to get off on it, instead of letting it kill me.
I went into the bathroom and shut the door. I was rock hard before the shower even got up to temperature. I stepped into the stall, drawing the curtain behind me, and stroked myself as I let the jets of water pelt my head and shoulders.
I summoned up memories of Anna, drunk and tasting of booze, putting her tongue in my mouth and kissing me sloppily, the way I loved it best for some reason. I thought of her coming home late and whispering in my ear that she’d been naughty, and taking my hand… and sliding it inside the waistband of her leggings. She loved wearing leggings when she went out, showing off that beautiful ass of hers. She would be so wet, her sticky sex covering my fingers and her voice in my ear, moaning her approval.
“Please don’t be mad,” she would say, giving me the best cute-pouty look she could manage.
“What’s… going on? What do you mean?” I’d reply. She would pull back from me for a second, her gaze going to the floor.
“I… fucked someone tonight. I was at this party and it just happened.”
I would be in shock for a second, but I would need her to finish telling me. My brain would lock up, unable to process with all the blood in my body flowing to my dick. A small smile played across her face as I asked her to go on, every bit of my attention focused on what she was saying.
“We were dancing, and I just really wanted him, so I took his hand and we went upstairs… and I let him cum inside me. His dick was so big, and it felt amazing… God I just want more…”
And then she’d start kissing me like that again, sloppy and lots of tongue, like she needed my dick inside her. Needed it the way you need air.
I stroked myself in the shower, thinking of this, and almost came in my hand thinking of how she would kiss me but I slowed down to savor the fantasy for a moment. Maybe see how well my creative brain was functioning. I would grab her and kiss her, wanting nothing but her right then.
“It felt like a lot of cum… Want to see?” She would ask, pulling away from the kiss so she could talk.
Well, yeah.
Yeah, I want to see.
I would let her lay back on my bed and kiss down her body, her slightly sweaty body that smelled like coconut rum and her perfume, pulling off her leggings to reveal-
Cum, and her sex, smeared everywhere between her legs, panties missing. Cum dripping down to her ass, and smeared in what little hair there was above her clit where she’d shaved a landing strip. Smeared on the insides of her thighs. What was hers and what was his, I couldn’t say, but I also wouldn’t care, not for a second. I’d dive in.
She would moan instantly, her hands going to my head, fingers locking into my blond hair as my tongue, lips, cheeks, nose and chin would be instantly soaked in her sex. My tongue would travel from her thighs to her clit, teasing her little bud as I moved down to her puckered asshole to retrieve cum that had dripped down. The heavy taste would be like heaven, and the slippery feeling on my face that I was imagining almost made me cum again, but like last time I slowed down and held back. This was going to be a monster orgasm when I finally did let loose.
My shoulders and chest were blotchy-red from the heat of the shower, and steam obscured the overhead light. I kept stroking myself, imagining her writhing at my tongue’s assault on her freshly fucked pussy.
“Baby, I want you to fuck me,” she’d say through her moans. “I want to feel you where he was. Please.”
I would move my kisses and licks up her body, stripping off her tank top and unclipping her bra as I went to kiss her hard little nipples. Her left breast would fill my hand as I squeezed it, using my right arm to steady myself as we kiss wildly, tongues thrashing and lips gliding together, and the tip of my dick would feel the hot slick entrance of her pussy.
Whenever we had sex we would go down on each other first, for our mutual benefit and to make sure that everything was as lubricated as it could be. But in this fantasy, and likely in the event it happened, she would be so wet that I could enter her smoothly without a worry. Her fingernails would bite into the backs of my arms, and her moan past my ear would sound like a masterpiece sonata’s finishing chord. Just the right amount of rasp, full of desire, the way she had sounded when I entered her so many times before. The novelty and excitement of that moment could never wear off.
I would feel her, from the inside now, hotter than she had ever felt and slick with cum. The mere thought was enough, but to actually feel it? To be there, and to know for sure? It would send us both into orbit.
And finally, it did – standing in the shower, playing this scene behind my eyelids, I came so hard my knees gave out.
After I cleaned up and got out of the shower I felt like a new man. I knew that as long as she came back to me at the end of the day (or night, as it were) I could handle this. Hell, I could love this. I wanted my girlfriend to be as sexual and sexually satisfied as she could, and since she showed no signs of holding herself back, I figured my new fantasy was about to be granted. This frame of mind was far and above better than letting myself get derailed by whoever else was fucking my girlfriend. After all I’d be reclaiming her every time I made the trip home, right?
And I was left with a lesson, which had been imparted to me before but hadn’t stuck the first time: never underestimate the power of some fresh air and time alone to get your head on straight.