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.
