This is a story told from a cuckold's perspective. It is a work of fantasy. You have been warned.
Back in my uni days, I met a local girl in my uni town, Claire. I immediately fell for her. At first, it was purely physical - she was almost the stereotypical "big titty goth gf" from my teenage dreams and I couldn't resist. She had pale skin the colour of whipping cream, short black hair that just about reached her shoulders, with a straight fringe, hazel eyes, a penchant for black, and, until you took her clothes off, she looked short and thick. When you took her clothes off, however, she had big, but not huge, breasts with peachy ghost nipples and a soft body that wasn't fit but didn't pack on any extra pounds.
Being an all-around average lad with a just-less-than athletic body, I knew I was probably punching above my weight. She was as close to a ten as I was to a five, objectively, and if you were into the whole busty emo thing, then she ticked all the boxes.
Our first year together was amazing. We hit it off almost straight away, with her colder, reserved, exterior breaking down by the end of our second date. It became immediately obvious from that point that Claire was a
very
sexual person - our date had been on a Friday, and we didn't leave my dorm room until the Monday morning, chafing but satisfied.
As a first-year student, I had a private room near the campus that served as our little love nest. It was perfect for our needs as Claire had only just left college and started temping, meaning that she still lived at home with her family.
Her family, of which, her dad was a mad yank bastard who loved Jesus and loved guns more. He routinely, and proudly, announced that he "would be happy to go to jail if I 'corrupted' his daughter". It wasn't exactly a subtle threat, and I was sure that he would happily back it up.
Things started becoming tricky in our second year together. As a second-year student, I had moved into a house with a group of lads whose
laddishness
directly correlated with the number of them that were together. Whenever Claire came over, they would shamelessly flirt with her each time their paths crossed, try to barge in on us having sex, and the thing that got in Claire's head the most; tease us relentlessly when we emerged from my room together.
While she wasn't shy with me anymore, it was easy to forget that she could be painfully wary of people she didn't know very well or felt that she needed to 'impress' - she had only just become comfortable around my friends. It didn't help that she came from an ultra 'religious' background, so this teasing drove her into a spiral of shame that trapped her in her own anxieties. Obviously, her house was mostly out of bounds too, unless I was looking to meet her father's idol.
This caused a massive, and unexpected, strain on our relationship; since we had broken the seal, sex seemed to Claire to be like water to a parched desert wanderer, and she was
thirsty
.
After a particularly long dry spell, an opportunity arose that there was no way to refuse. Her family was due to be going away for the weekend, but she had to work, so would be staying behind and looking after their place. This meant that her house was about to become corrupted in a way that only horny teenagers can achieve.
Before her family had even driven around the corner, past the big, perpetual, construction site that her entire street complained about, I was already inside Claire's house, hoping to shortly be inside Claire herself.
Claire wasn't a big drinker. We met in a pub, but she was there supporting her best friend on a date and was drinking something like her third ever beer. I didn't think I'd seen her drink anything alcoholic since then. This weekend, her dad had bought her a box of pre-mixed canned cocktails as a sort of 'apology' for not being able to go on the trip with them. For some reason, Claire had already polished a couple off by the time she answered the door to me and was slurping on another like it was just a can of coke.
She dismissed me when I quizzed her on it, laughing that it didn't count as 'drinking'. Before I could press the issue, she was leading me to her bed where we immediately pressed our faces together, hands groping, clothes coming undone and rolls of condoms flying out of pockets. She tasted of rum and coke.
Claire was wearing a short black pleated skirt and a matching black buttoned shirt, so it was simple for me to throw her back onto the bed and open her legs to start going down on her with only the slightest pause to rip off her underwear. Her own hands guided my head between her thighs, so I knew I was on the right track.
I yearned to be inside her, physically aching with desire, I could feel my penis throbbing from the moment we entered the room, pressing hard against the fabric of my boxers. As much as I wanted this, I could tell she
needed
to cum, and she never came from penetration. From the way she was pulling my hair now, it seemed like she wanted nothing in the world more than to cum right now, and as a gentleman, I couldn't refuse.
I savoured every lick, her familiar taste filling my mouth as the scent of her clean, perfumed, skin made me lightheaded, or maybe that was the can of Cuba Libre I had downed in the five minutes between entering her house and entering her. Claire's high moans started the second my tongue split her lips apart and her milky white legs wrapped around my head. From the noise she let out, and the shuddering of her thick thighs against my ears, I thought she was going to cum right then and there.
So, I mentioned before that Claire was
really
into sex, like, I'm talking hypersexual or nymphomania levels of horny, in my professional opinion. This meant that it was almost impossible to stop the vehicle once the engine was started. I had made the 'mistake' of turning her on when we've been out with friends on more than one occasion, and she has forced me into bathrooms, dark alleys, a bush, between cars, and so on, just to satisfy her needs.
So, when her front door suddenly slammed shut just minutes into the tongue-boxing I was giving her, she stifled her moans, but kept her legs wrapped tightly around my head, trapping me.
Her dad's booming voice echoed through the house; something about the English putting their months the wrong way around and a mistake with the booking. I fought between finishing the job and trying to pull away.
I had just enough blood left in my brain to fight Claire's vice-like grip.
"You're such a pussy!" She growled at me when it became clear I wasn't going to get her to the finish line.
"He
will
kill me," I protested, my eyes reluctantly tearing away from her to glance at the door. "I know he has guns in that wardrobe."
Claire sighed, pulling me onto her, grasping my cock through my jeans with one hand, and using the other to continue where I had left off.
"We can't!" I hissed between kisses, even though I most definitely could.
Footsteps began creaking along the hallway towards Claire's room as if to prove my point.
Claire reacted with lightning speed; pushing me away as she was on her feet in one motion. One hand began smoothing her skirt down as the other expertly began buttoning her shirt up. Her bright red face, dilated pupils and heavy breathing entirely ruining the otherwise perfect façade.
However, instead of sitting back down and waiting for her dad to come in and start ranting, she clenched her jaw and looked around, suddenly jerking my arm, and smiling.
Her room was on the ground floor of the house and had a single wide window taking up the middle of the wall above her bed. The window lead straight onto her garden, giving us a view of a solid brick wall. Something about the wall seemed to have caught her attention.
"Come on," she urged, pulling me still. "Bring the condoms and your coat!"
I wasn't one to argue, especially deep in the grasp of this fear/arousal combination, so I picked up my coat and shoes from where I'd hurriedly dropped them on the floor and followed Claire as she leapt out of the window.
Her desire must have been working wonders, as there was no way a woman of her proportions should have been able to scale her garden wall as quickly and efficiently as she managed, the bricks stretching higher than the top of her head. But manage she did, and I followed her over the wall and into an industrial playground.
She grabbed me by the hand and began to guide me around pallets, spools, and other various debris towards an unfinished central shell of a building, as if she knew exactly what she was doing.
She suddenly stopped, pulling me towards her so that I pressed her against a stack of bricks. Her tongue shot into my mouth, and I reciprocated in kind, feeling my penis press against her as it began to recover some of the blood it had lost in climbing over the wall.
"This place stops working as soon as it gets dark," Claire whispered, pushing me back. "You can only get in here through the gate around the corner unless you climb in from someone's garden. We'll be alone here."
She sounded sure, so I trusted her, and it did look as though the dark building site was surrounded by large metal fences with jagged tops, so unless anyone else scaled their own garden wall, like us, then it
was
probably safe, and we would be alone.
She dragged me into the giant grey skeleton in the centre of the site, hesitating, before pulling me towards some harsh concrete stairs.
It had only been a couple of minutes, at most, since I was about to break my weeks long celibacy, but even with the adrenaline of the situation, my youthful blood cooled enough to flash warning lights through my brain.
"Are you sure this is safe?" I questioned.
"Yeah, they've been working here for months," she began, still pulling me up the steps. "As soon as it's dark, it's empty. Sometimes one or two will stay for a bit longer, but the spotlights are on if that's the case. Nobody will be back here until... well, until Monday, now."
We reached the top of the steps into what was nothing more than what looked like a concrete box with a few holes in the walls and various pieces of construction debris around the room. I could see the roof of her house from one of the 'windows', so I backed away quickly, stomach churning at the height.
"Here," Claire urged, pulling me towards a pallet halfway between the stairs and the 'window'.
She threw her jacket down onto it and gestured for me to do the same. No sooner than it had left my hand, she had thrown herself against me, her face hot and flushed. I collapsed back onto our jackets in response to her assault.
My sense of caution disappeared as soon as her tongue entered my mouth, my penis stiffening at once - pressing hard against my jeans, and thus her stomach.
"Oh good, you're still ready to play," Claire giggled, moving a pale hand to begin stroking me over my jeans.
A harsh sound suddenly rang out, and Claire jumped, spinning in my arms so that she was facing the stairs. In our enthusiasm, she had landed on top of me, so now she was effectively sitting on my lap.
