That Cunt

Peter, Rob, Emily, Lucy and Steve, had decided to go on a camping trip.

Peter was Lucy's ex-boyfriend, they had split up just over a year ago and as all their friends were mutual, both had decided neither of them would be the one to miss out on the trip because of the other, with Peter not wanting to show his absence as a sign of weakness.

So as Peter otherwise knew all of them, there was one that he had never met before, and hadn't know was going to be joining them.

And that person was Steve, Lucy's new boyfriend. The guy she met two months before their breakup. The guy she started going out with a week after it.

They were going to be renting huts for the week near the edge of a forest.

The huts were not single huts, but one long building, with the huts sharing walls, a bit like a motel. Every two huts shared a bathroom and a small kitchen, which were at the back behind a small hall, to which each of the two huts had a door.

The camping resort they were staying at was a popular destination, and at the end of the building there was a pub for hikers. They had all decided to gradually meet up there, after each of them arrived and unpacked their things.

It was then that Peter got his surprise, after he had unpacked and headed out to meet the others.

They were sitting next to each other in the corner of table, his hand around her shoulder, frequently swapping kisses and smiles at each other. Peter's heart stopped, he hadn't expected this. "Hey Pete!" Said Rob, and the others greeted him similarly. Peter and Steve introduced themselves, Peter not looking particularly himself. The group drank and chatted till the evening. Lucy and Steve were both slightly drunk, and constantly touching each other.

Peter was tired after the journey, and the revelation of Steven joining them had shaken him. He left the restaurant first and decided to go straight to sleep when he got back, and just as he was in his hut about to shut the window, he caught sight of Lucy and Steve walking in his direction.

"Hi Pete! Good night." ""Good night" he replied, and then, to his surprise, they unlocked the door of the hut next to his, and went in.

They were in the room next to his. He didn't immediately realize what this might mean, but the realization did come soon enough.

He closed the blinds, and lay down to sleep, but couldn't. His bed was right next to the wall between the two rooms, which compared to the thickly insulated outer walls was fairly thin, and through which he could hear various muffled laughs and voices, over the sound of songs playing on a laptop or a phone. After a while he heard the door open and the sound of footsteps in the hall and bathroom. He realized they would soon be going to sleep. He heard footsteps once more, the bedroom door closing, the light switch turn off, and then a few muffled creaks, and realized they were in bed. His heart clenched and gathered pace as he listened intently, pretending to sleep.

He lay in the dark for what seemed hours, his eyes closed trying to capture any vestige of sound in the dead silence.

There was no sound to be heard, other than the slightest murmur of the forest outside.

And then, he heard something, at first not making out what it was, a strange repetitive noise, starting quietly at first, then getting louder.

He strained his ears to try and recognize it, and then... he heard another sound. A sound he immediately recognized. From the other side of the wall, cutting sharply through the silence, there came a muffled moan. His heart started pounding, and his breath became shallow. A moan of pleasure had just come through the wall. His mind was spinning. The repetitive sound grew louder, and then he realized what it was... the sound of fingers inside a cunt.

Her cunt. His ex-girlfriend's cunt.

There she was, lost to pleasure, as if he wasn't even there, something to just be ignored, like the sounds of the forest outside. She knew he was next door, and she didn't care a bit. It wasn't out of revenge or cruelty, she had no reason for it, it was her that dumped him. She was horny, and Peter would just have to deal with it. He knew Lucy well.

And so, Peter now found himself lying in the darkness, his ears filled with the muffled sounds of pleasure coming through the wall, as next door, Steve's fingers played with Lucy's cunt.

Her soft, wet, horny cunt. A cunt he intimately knew, a cunt he hadn't been in for over year, and, a cunt he'd never be in again. The one he would love to stick his fingers in, and couldn't, while someone else just had. This cunt wanted things done to it. And was having things done to it, but not by him.

The reality of it filled him with unbearable jealousy. He turned beet red. How could they? How could she? But, just as his head was spinning with rage, another, unexpected feeling had started to well up in Peter. The quiet sensual moans that escaped Lucy's lips, and the increasingly wet sounds as Steve's fingers worked her cunt, had a profound effect on Peter's little cock. It was hard and pulsing. And what was worse, he had barely noticed the moment that it had made its way into in his hand. And when he did fully realize what he was doing, as pathetic as it made him feel, he couldn't stop.

The moaning ceased, and for a moment Peter could hear the sound of his pounding heart. There were sounds of movement behind the wall, and shortly after, a sound not that dissimilar to the previous one. He soon recognized what it was... the recipient of pleasure was no longer a cunt, but a cock, and she was sucking it. Although muffled, he could make it out clearly.

Sounds of a tightly clasped mouth working it's way up and down with slurps and licks and the occasional "pop" as the mouth released its hold for air, and of a hand moving in unison. The mouth it hadn't been in for well over a year. It had been nowhere for a over a year, with the exception of his own hand, an activity which was quite often accompanied by fantasies, and more shamefully even — photos of the girl next door, desperately wishing it could be in any of her wet holes, or even, by now, her hand.

The thought of this was unbearable, the burning humiliation of it. He shook with resentment, but the arousal he felt was stronger, far stronger than anything he had ever experienced. His wrist gathered pace, and he stroked his frustrated cock faster, his fist squeezing hard, as he seethed with anger.

The sounds stopped again, and a terrible silence took over.

Terrible, because he suspected what would come next. His hand stopped, he seemed frozen in time. Perhaps it was a dream? A nightmare? There seemed to be a perfect silence.

A perfect silence which was broken by a moan.

Not a moan like before, but a different moan. A short, but deep moan, almost a grunt. The moan of a cunt being entered.

For another short moment, a silence. Then another moan. And then two sounds that were somehow even worse. Sounds that would repeat themselves over and over, starting slowly and then gathering speed. A creak of the bed, and a slap of skin on skin.

And then different moan began.

The moan of Steve, the moan of a hard throbbing cock pushing it's way into an eagerly stretching cunt, It's engorged head rubbing tightly against the soft flesh, the sensitive nerve endings writhing in bliss as they lovingly feasted on the rough texture, burying itself to the hilt, then stopping a second to savour the sensations of being fully engulfed, then making it's way back, and then in again. In and out. Faster and faster, The hanging balls bellow smacking against the outside.

It was at that moment that all the sexual frustration Peter had felt since the breakup came crashing into in his little cock like a bolt of lightning.

The frustration which he had gradually gotten used to, which he had learned to suppress and ignore, but which had grown over time as again and again he had failed to get pussy, and as it grew, his masturbation habits soon weren't enough to entirely quench his desires. Peter had always had the unfortunate combination of a high sex drive while being hopeless with women, Lucy had been his lucky break. And as he frantically tugged his poor cock every day to alleviate the pressure he wished for nothing else. His cock in his hand as he slowly guided it Into the hot wet welcoming pussy, feeling it's tightness envelop him and then... fuck, fuck, FUCK! Imagine how it must feel.

Peter's cock was so close to the edge that he had to stroke slowly now, occasionally taking his hand off completely. This made him feel even more frustrated, not that any amount of tugging would have helped by now. No matter how fast he could be jerking his cock it would do nothing to satisfy it. All It longed for was a cunt, it pleaded for a cunt. A wet juicy cunt to stretch and fuck. It throbbed and ached, weeping bucket-loads of precum in sheer desperation. Before tonight his poor cock could barely remember what being inside a cunt felt like anymore, it hadn't been one for so long, but now the memory of it had come vividly and painfully back. The memory of every sensation as he had plowed in and out, every bit of the journey, from tip to balls. And not just of any cunt. Her cunt. THE cunt. The one he would give anything for, just to able to lovingly pound it again, to fuck it silly, just once more. The one his cock would never enter again while Steve's got to have its fill. He felt a strong another rush of jealousy and anger, which was soon washed away by arousal as a particularly long and lustful moan erupted from Lucy. He let out a whimper of frustration as he slowly pulled the foreskin down the glistening cock head.

The moans grew louder. Far louder it seemed to Peter, than anything his cock had ever managed to conjure up. Short moans, long moans, lustful hog-like grunts of pleasure, high-pitched cries and deep sensual breaths filled the air as on the bed next door Lucy lay on all fours, her ass in the air as behind her, Steve pounded away, the ecstasy in her pussy growing with each stroke.

Peter's cock was so close to bursting he had to take his hands off and clench his fists. His eyes bulged, and he bit his lip as the loss of the sensation on his cock made the jealous rage he was feeling return with a jolt. It was all he could do not to punch the wall. All of a sudden the picture of her face flashed in his mind. Her cheek buried in the mattress as her open moaning mouth turned to a lustful smile before opening again, her eyes closed as she bit her lip and hugged her pillow.

The cunt. The bitch. His eyes swelled with tears.

There she was, a year on. And there was he.

She got to fuck, and he got to jerk. To stroke his little cock with his own hand. Life's not fair.

He grabbed his cock in his fist.

The moans carried on, unceasing, unstoppable. Over and over.

And then, they grew louder, and slowly, they started to change, to transform into words.

'OOOOHFUCK OHHHHHFUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!'

Peter pulled his hand off and grabbed the sheets. She had never screamed like this for him.

The cunt was cumming. Cumming all over Steve's cock, riding a euphoric wave of pleasure as it contracted and convulsed.

Never before had Peter's cock been so aware of the cold air around it. His hand flew back. It was too much for him, he was going to spurt. Soon his little cock would squirt its contents all over himself and the bed.

But before that something else happened.

Steve's cock was reaching its own climax, the balls tightening, the muscles contracting, the cum traveling up to the tip, soon to be free, the feeling of bliss starting to peak. It buried itself balls deep with a squelch. It was unmistakably inside. Lucy never fucked with a condom. And then, with a heavy moan escaping Steve's lips, it erupted, spraying its load into her cunt, filling it with his sticky white cum, lovingly lathering its insides, marking it as its own.

Peter's humiliation had reached it's peak. He let out an audible sob.

Peter's lonely cock, clasped only in his own hand let out showers of cum into nothing but air, spraying all over him, covering him with a sticky mess, as if to scorn him.

Peter lay in the darkness, his head spinning, his body shaking, his eyes filled with tears. All over he was splattered with cum. A deep, burning shame came over him. He needed to clean up the mess, clean up the mess, and forget this ever happened.

After he thought they might be sleeping, his mind restlessly replaying the events over and over, he got out of bed as quietly as he could, and slowly opening his door, he entered the hallway and bathroom. He was careful to lock the door.

Leaving the light turned off, he put the water on at a slight drizzle, and, trying hard to concentrate he methodically washed his body with soap and a towel from his cock upwards. When he had finished, he hung his towel over his shoulder, pulled up his boxer shorts, and turned off the water. He unlocked the door and stepped out into the hall.

He turned in the direction of the door to his room when he heard a sound behind him, and turned back, just in time to see a door close, before being blinded by the light in the hallway.

"Oh! Sorry." said Lucy.

Peter froze, and then moved a step back out of her way as she turned into the bathroom door. And then, just as she was about to enter it, she stopped, looking at him intently, but not meeting his eye.

Her hair was messy and ruffled. Her face looked both tired and soothed.

And at that moment Peter thought he could smell the faint scent of sex entering his nostrils. Of sweat and cunt and cum coming together.

Lucy's eyes met his.

And the she did something that would haunt him forever.

She lifted up her hand to his face, and gently, very gently, she brushed a tear from his cheek. Still gazing at him, her lips formed a small smile, a smile halfway between pity and contempt.

And then she took a step into the bathroom, and closed the door.