How I Learned to Find Cucking Exciting

Hi, I'm not sure this belongs here since I guess it's not really a cuckolding story, but I thought I'd share the story of how I learned to be a cuckold fetishist.

Back in the late 90s I went to university and met Sarah on the first night. She was incredible; a pretty smile, beautiful auburn hair and the tightest t-shirt I'd ever seen clinging to her trim stomach and big firm, juicy tits. We got talking and became good friends over the course of the next few months. I didn't have the nerve to make a move on her (why would she have any interest in me?) but we made each other laugh and enjoyed each other's company. I went to bed every night aching for her.

My room in the university halls of residence was on a different floor from Sarah's and the group that I had become close to, but near the end of the first term a vacancy became available when the student in the room next to Sarah dropped out and I was allowed to take his room. Naturally I was delighted to have Sarah next door and be closer to the friends I'd made.

Moving next to Sarah did nothing to help the growing infatuation I was feeling. She and I went out on daytrips together, studied together, and spent evenings in the bar together. I treasured every touch of her hand. My heart pounded if one of her tits accidentally brushed against me.

I was aware that other guys liked her. She had boyfriends most of that first year and I hated it. The envy made me feel sick. This was not a sexy, cucking angst, but a young man's heart break.

Towards the end of the second term there was a dance in the bar on the ground floor. Sarah looked incredible as she met me outside our rooms to walk down. She was wearing a black top with a plunging neckline that exposed acres of pale creamy cleavage and a skirt with a slit running right up one thigh almost to the top. She smiled at my response and took my hand as we walked into the bar.

She clung to me that night. Dancing with me. Her body pushed close to mine. We kissed for the first time. I was in heaven. She is very petite and as we danced I had a perfect view down her top. I was rock hard. She wanted me. I wanted her. We were apart for moments here and there, for trips to the bar or to talk to other people but we were back together on the dancefloor within minutes. I had never felt excitement like I felt that night.

Towards the end of the evening I rushed to the toilet, eager to get back to her, but when I returned she was dancing with another guy. I knew him by sight but nothing more. She was dancing with him as she had with me. My heart felt like it was going to ***** me. My head was swimming as I saw her lean up to kiss him deeply. His hands on her arms, her back, her firm ass. I didn't know what to do. Stay or go? Try and get her attention again? But her new dance partner wasn't letting her go. He was so confident. His hands exploring her in ways I'd never had the nerve to even try. And she let him. She responded to him.

I was still rationalising and trying to convince myself that everything would be okay when the dance ended 20 minutes later and we were kicked out. I followed a few steps behind her as we left the bar, assuming that he would part company with her as we left, but he didn't. I followed him and her to the staircase, desperately hoping that he would leave us when we got to the first floor landing, but he didn't. He didn't leave us when we reached the second floor either. My stomach was sinking as we reached our third floor and he followed Sarah out of the stairwell and into our corridor. I was trying to convince myself that maybe there was going to be a post-dance ***** in one of our rooms but neither of them said a word to me, or seemed to even notice I was there when we reached our rooms and him and Sarah went into her room and shut the door.

I was devastated. I went into my room and shut the door. Feeling alone and jealous. I was hurting, and wanted consolation. I wanted distraction. I wanted not to think. I reached for the cupboard above my wardrobe and pulled out a magazine. I was (and still am) obsessed with Isla Fisher and turned to my favourite photo shoot of her and fell to the bed, stripping my clothes off. Cock in hand I worshipped Isla. I stroked myself with a desperate need I had never felt before. Trying to replace the hurt with the Isla lust I knew so well. That's when I heard it. The sound of Sarah's bed thumping against the thin wall between our rooms. And again. And again. Powerful, fast, hard impacts and getting faster and faster. In my dazed state it took me a few seconds to realise I was hearing Sarah being fucked.

I stroked faster and harder. Precum oozing from my cock head as I tried to lose myself in Isla's body. The noise from Sarah's room was growing. I began to realise I could faintly hear her. She was moaning, yelping, squealing, begging, and his response was to plough her faster.

After about 10 minutes the noise died down. I tried not to think about what that meant. I focussed on Isla. On how much I wanted her. On all the years I'd been wanking to her. I began to imagine her in the room next door, in Sarah's place. Being fucked by the man who had stolen her on the dancefloor. More precum dripped from my cock.

Before long the noise started up again. Slower. He was taking his time. Images were spinning of my head. Sarah. Isla. Him. Sarah pushed against the thin wall separating us as he drove into her pussy. Her body glistening as he enjoyed every perfect inch of her. Then Isla in her place. This man taking the women I craved.
I spent the night like that. Writhing on the brink of orgasm. My eyes fixed on Isla. My ears straining to hear every sound, every clue to how he was enjoying Sarah. They fucked 4 or 5 times that night (that I heard). From that initial urgent, hard pounding to a later slow, long rhythmic fucking. As the night wore on he lasted longer and longer and she got more and more vocal.

I fought not to cum. Struggling to ride the lust as long as I could to save myself from the pain until as the sun was rising it all became too much and I sprayed my cum over Isla with a trembling intensity that easily surpassed any pleasure I'd known to that point. By the end of that night, Sarah and Isla had turned me into a man who ached with delicious agony to the noises of passion that were ringing in my ears.

I didn't see Sarah until the following evening when she knocked on my door and came in happily and friendly like nothing had happened. We continued to get closer and by the end of that first year at university we were a couple, and are still together, happy and married now. But I still regularly wank to Isla, remembering that night. Looking at one cute, juicy-titted, redhead, now inexorably linked in my head to the night that the cute, juicy-titted redhead that I married was fucked inches from me, separated by only a paper-thin wall.

These are the pictures I focussed on that night.

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