Cuck Talk (#9 - Hers)

The collection of her personal items in his closet had grown. It started with the basics, deodorant, contact lens solution, tampons, but eventually she’d taken over a whole shelf. They were getting serious.

“You left your shirt here,” he said as I was getting dressed. I’d been naked in his bed, tied up in his ropes and taking everything he wanted to give me. It was dreamy, I’d cum so many times I felt lightheaded now trying to put my hair in a bun and make myself presentable for the outside world. He tossed the shirt, onto the bed. I picked it up, I knew right away it wasn’t mine. It was a plain black v-neck tshirt.

I didn’t own a shirt like that, and besides, I never slept over, I never left here without the clothes I arrived with. It was always little windows, our dates for kink and connection, a few hours here, an evening there. An appointment I would show up for, and leave after. I didn’t leave things behind.

“It’s not mine,” I said. Maybe saltier than I’d intended. I threw it back towards him, maybe a little aggressively. He paused for a second, considering how delicately he should tread. I averted my eyes, busied myself with putting my jewellery back on. “Nah, I think it’s yours baby, maybe you should try it on,” there was something in his tone. Sharp. I shot him a confused look. I like sharp things. We stood there for a moment locked in a gaze, trying to decide what would happen next. Trying to decide who would flinch first.

I picked up the shirt, brought it to my nose, “it smells like her,” I said, pouting slightly.

“It sure does,” he said.

“I’m supposed to be leaving,” I reminded him.

“This won’t take long,” he said.

I knew he was right, I could see how hard he was through his jeans. My heart was beating so fast, I hated how much I wanted this. Who would want this? I was suddenly so aware of my tongue in my mouth, there was a ringing in my ears, my hands felt sweaty. “Please,” I thought to myself. “Please make me do this fucked up thing,” knowing I’d masturbate to it for months. What was wrong with me?

He came over to my side of the bed, pulled me closer to him, lifted my chin. I couldn’t avoid his gaze this way, I fidgeted my toes a little, nervous bunny. He studied my face, like he was searching for a green light. He asked me his favourite question, “are you gonna be good for me?”

My answer was honest; “Probably not.” He stroked my hair, smiled just a bit, kissed the top of my head. I love how small he makes me feel, not just in size but in age, I lose my words, I regress, I stomp my foot, I go limp when he holds me firmly and whispers “it’s okay, Daddy’s got you.”

He slips just a finger under my own shirt, grazes my ribcage as he lifts it up and over my head. I wrap my arms around my naked chest on instinct, he wraps his arms around me, also instinct. “I know it’s hard,” he says gently, “but you can do it. Now, arms up.” I scowl but I raise my arms and he starts putting each of my hands through each of the arm holes of the black v-neck. Hers.

He pulls it down over my head. He reaches behind my neck and lifts my hair out from under the tshirt. The fabric feels like static on my bare skin. I can hear the ocean in my ears, like I’m far away. We are nowhere near the ocean, maybe it’s the highway. I can smell someone else’s perfume, someone else’s laundry detergent, a scent that doesn’t usually belong here, between us. I want to touch myself, do something to dull the ache in my heart and the throbbing in my clit.

He fucks me hard while I’m wearing his girlfriend’s shirt. He grabs a fist full of it and presses me down into the mattress, uses it as leverage. My head reels like a news ticker, presenting theories so fast they feel like feelings; he planned it this way (panic), he wants to think of her while he’s fucking me (fear), he likes her better (envy). He moves my hips to open up for him. Maybe he likes her smell more than he likes mine. Maybe he wishes she was here. Maybe he always thinks of her when he’s about to cum. He’s pounding into me, my eyes are shut tight.

It stops. “Hey,” he says softly. I open my eyes, he’s leaning over me, still inside of me, I can feel him pulsing. I can see into his eyes, into his soul, he brings me back to him. “You’re mine, you know that?” he reminds me. Soothes me. I feel tethered, warm, a swift whiplash in feelings. He slips his thumb between my lips, I’m hungry for him, I suck and my cunt throbs and he grunts a little when I clench around him. I feel it shuddering through me, I cum so hard tears roll down my cheeks. He kisses me desperately, open wet mouth, the intensity of my orgasm pulls him closer and he spills over the edge too. We’re breathing heavy, her shirt in between us, my jealousy is a fire we stoke for fun.