Caught cock handed...it's not as cool as you write about

This is a commission for another reader. It's in the same vein as the “Patheticfuck2011” threads, sort of. So respect to his (well, I think) threads. It's another restart that is sort of “meta”, if you know what that means. It's going to be told from two perspectives, with a chance to follow either myself (aka yourself) or Morgan and Bill.

No this one is not real. It's a fantasy. Not even my fantasy really.

I know there are a LOT or fans, and a LOT of haters on this story. Either read it or don't. Fuck it. Enjoy or don't.

Also, I get this isn't how social media platforms work. Just suspend beliefs.

Getting caught isn't as cool as you wrote about....

You were pretty sure Morgan wasn't coming home until late. She picked up a double shift at the hotel, where she worked the front desk, which meant she'd probably be working until four or five in the morning. That meant it was time to enjoy a night “alone”. You did what you always did on a weekend night, when your girlfriend wasn't around, and went on your usual cuckold sites. Then you stopped in on CHYOA, to see if anyone had added, or even commented on your story about your obnoxious asshole friend and Morgan. You'd been writing this story since you saw them interact. How Bill would “hunt” her nightly, like a lion trying to take down a prize Gazelle. He'd make his moves, and Morgan would brush him off politely as always. Yet they flirted, despite her not admitting it. She'd say something with an innuendo, and he wouldn't let it go. Like “Bill wants to ride the “F” train with me”. Which of course meant “fuck”. She was pretty naughty with her language and dirty even, when she wanted to be.

Still, your Morgan wasn't the girl in your stories. She'd never became the “slut” who wore risque dresses, and heels and skirts for your asshole friend. That's because she never fucked Bill. The most was their flirting, and once you caught them kiss lightly on the lips at a bar. Morgan trying to get away from an aggressive Bill. Still, those moments embarrassingly excited you. Extremely excited you for that matter.

To say Morgan was the hottest girl you guys knew was kind of an understatement. In high-school you hung out with sort of loser girls, more pudgy than fit or hot. Even in college the girls weren't tens, they weren't even sixes. When Morgan first met you, she had a little more weight, but she was cute. And when she got skinny, she beat out even her cute friends who got hit on more than her.

Morgan and Bill would flirt, and Bill would tell her how hot she was and how much she should be with him and if she only gave him “one chance”. She would laughed and sigh, and end up trying to get him laid, which would fail, because Bill would be into her and make the girl mad. Or Bill would fuck her friend Hillary, but tell Morgan he wanted her.

One night, Morgan had even set up a Plentyoffish profile for Bill. “StudAFBill” was the name. It made her laugh. She put up some of Bill's better pictures, she joked, and said maybe that would get him off of her. It didn't.

That night, you thought about writing a chapter. Something new, something different. The image of Morgan dressed in a “ leia” costume, chained up, waiting for Bill to come home came to mind. You weren't sure anymore if you'd want that for yourself, or want Bill to experience it. You hated the word cuckold, despite these feelings, and never considered yourself one.

So you wrote your chapter, not a bad one either. You posted it, and then opened some pics of Morgan from a wedding, when she had on full make-up, and wore that white top, and brown skirt, with stockings and silver heels. She looked stunning that day, and everyone commented about it. Your cock was hard and ready to go. The computer was in Morgan's guest room. Outside the door, to the right, was the door to the guest bathroom, which opened to the main bathroom. It was your favorite spot to “enjoy” the night. You walked through and turned on the tub water. Then you went to the hamper and pulled out a pair of Morgan's pink thong panties, see-through all the way until the bottom, when a small patch covered her pussy. You could see the top of her landing strip, however, in these panties. You pulled them to your nose and pulled in her amazing pussy scent.

Oddly, you had learned this from Bill, who simply grabbed a pair off the towel rack one day and sniffed them in front of you. He told you he “bet Morgan's pussy smell” was like Viagra. You watched in amazement as he took a whiff, and nodded with a smile as his eyes closed. He then, drunkenly handed them to you. “Check it out,” he had told you, as if you'd never smelled your own fiancee's pussy. But for some reason, you complied, and took in her scent, and quite honestly it was like the first time. There was a strong feminine scent coming off the used panties, and it made your eyes dilate, and then you felt the blood rush to your cock so fast, your head spun.

You knew Bill had jacked off in her bikini that one time. Even after she accused you. She made you clean them and once again reiterated that you shouldn't bring Bill around. She again stood there with crossed arms and an angry look. “You know he just wants to fuck me right?” She said for the hundredth time. Each time you felt red in the cheeks as your cock expanded in your pants.

Ever since that day he handed you your own fiancee's panties, you'd grab a pair to jack off. It was your ritual. Not thinking, and stuck in your preparation, you left the doors open to both bathrooms, and that would be your downfall. This night, you got into your ritual, and put a bit of lotion on your hand. Not too much to deafen the full feeling. You closed your eyes, and imagined yourself as Bill coming home to Morgan chained to the bed as Leia. You began to pump as you played out the chapter you wrote in your mind.

You were close. It wouldn't take long. Writing the chapter was most of the fun, so you pumped harder. Morgan had basically taught you how to jerk yourself off. You recalled how she said most guys just did the “savage” and pulled until they came. She instructed you, with her own hand that one time, to start slow, and build up speed and pressure towards the climax. You were following your fiancee's instructions. So close, and it wouldn't be long now. You felt your balls.....

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!” You heard a shout, and came out of your bliss. Your eyes opened and spied Morgan in the doorway of the guest bathroom. She had her arms crossed angrily, and eyes wider than you'd seen them. “WHA THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!” She then laughed. You sighed with relief, as it wasn't the first time you had been caught. You were a guy. You beat off. Guys beat off.

However, this night changed everything, as Morgan stepped back, shaking her head and giggling. But tonight, her head turned to the guest room. Your heart sank. The computer was still on. The pictures were up, and the sites were up. The “story” was up.

“What's going on in here,” Morgan smiled as she saw herself on the screen. She walked into the guest room and you ran through the guest bathroom. But you weren't fast enough. “What the fuck?” You heard her gasp. It wasn't loud, but there was something to the tone. Something almost acknowledging that she'd found a hidden truth. “What are you reading?” She called out, turning to you, as you moved to the computer. “Wait,” Morgan laughed, “I want to read this,” she was saying playfully. She prevented you from getting to the computer with her small butt. She wore a loose tan pants suit tonight. Nothing sexy, as usual. It was enough time to read a few lines. “Bill moved his hands up Morgan's creamy white thighs, and Morgan....” She stopped midway through reading. Her entire demeanor changed. “What is this?” She turned to you with a white face. Yours was beat red. She reached down and clicked on the icon to open the “word” document that you had been working on. It came up quick, and she saw similar sentences about Bill rubbing Morgan's legs. You had just uploaded the first chapter. “Did you....did you write this.” Her face went red and she put her hands over her mouth. Was she going to cry. You were trembling, as you reached over and shut the monitor off.

Her face turned scornful. “Seriously, what the fuck is this shit.” She put her arms in that angry crossed manner and stared.

“It's just...it's just a story...it's nothing.” You told her. You pulled the plug from the computer, somewhat angry you'd lost some unsaved progress.

“You're a fucking freak,” she said and walked out of the room. You tried to explain she wasn't meant to see that. She waved you off and said she was going back to work, to get away from you, and maybe get a glass of wine. She needed to be AWAY from you. It made you sick to your stomach.

Hours past, and you texted Morgan. She didn't get back to you once. You hoped she only saw a few lines. Maybe you could pass it off as a “one off” story.

Around 1AM, Morgan stumbled in, seemingly drunk as all hell. She was laughing scrolling through her phone. She smiled and said "Would a school marm wear this!" She pulled up the skirt, WAY UP, to her neck. You looked at the feed from Bill's point of view. You had a perfect view of Morgan's under-outfit in all its glory. The nylons went up to the top of her thighs. They were connected to a frilly lace belt that had a red bow on it. Her crotch was covered in silk black panties. SHE WAS WEARING A GARTER BELT THE WHOLE TIME!”

Morgan looked at you with a sly smile. “Bill had a fun Thanksgiving!” She then flipped through her phone. “And a fun Christmas”. You had never been so embarrassed in your life. She must have caught the name of the site. You wondered if she knew your pen-name. She answered your question. “All I had to do was go to “Chyoo” and type in my name. Wow...just wow.” She finally pointed to the door. “I think its best if you leave.”

You wanted to say you can explain. But how could you? How could you explain any of it? With a low head you walked past her. She was still scrolling through her phone.

The night past, and Morgan didn't get back to you. A day past, and then another. No word from Morgan. You were sure she was going to dump you. The next Friday she called you and told you she wanted to meet for drinks. You took shot after shot of whiskey until you were dangerously close to risking being pulled over. You simply couldn't face her sober.

It seemed she couldn't face you either. She was sipping a margarita at the bar. Talking to the bartender, she seemed relaxed. She saw you standing, and simply staring, not realizing you hadn't moved. “Sit,” she all but commanded. You did as told, looking at her, but she didn't face you. She had on her maroon juicy track suit, and wasn't really in any make-up. She was still cute. “This is a lot you know.” You told her you understood. She then let out a lot, more than just the “story”. She talked about how your sex life wasn't great and asked if this was the reason. Were you jerking off all the time? You told her only a few times a week. Maybe that was even too much to admit.

She insisted you get a cigarette. The two of you were alone, at the base of the hill that lead up to the movie theater. You'd drank here dozens of times. She puffed smoke and blew it at you. “Be honest...” you nodded that you would. “Do you want me to fuck Bill?” She circled the cigarette around in the air. “Are you one of those guys that like, wants to watch?”

You shook your head. “No,” you told her. “It's...it's just a stupid story. A fantasy. Nothing more.”

Morgan shrugged. “Yeah YOUR fantasy, which is what I don't get.” She looked at you, up and down. “I don't know. I just don't know.” She sighed, and pulled her purse on her arm. “I got to go.” She left you there, to pay the bill, and sulk in sadness.

A week past, and no responses from Morgan. Again, she finally contacted on Friday afternoon, that you needed to talk. You agreed to go to same place. When you met her, she was doing the same thing, diking a margarita, and in the same jumpsuit. She looked stressed. You were drunk.

She wasn't looking at you once again. “I don't know what to do.” She sighed finally. “I still care about you, and want this to work out. I don't know how though.” She looked down at her drink. “Do you...do you still want to get married?”

“Yes, of course,” you told her rubbing her back.

“Am I not slutty enough for you,” she asked finally looking in your eyes. You told her that wasn't true, but she stated how dirty the girl in that story was. “Is THAT what you want me to be like?” She asked, and you again told her it was just a story. You tried to assure her she was fine.

Morgan took a long sip from the long straw and looked at the TV. “I don't know what to do to get past this.” She ordered a shot. Just for her and took it. She sipped from her straw again. Minutes had past with not even a word. She then huffed, and shrugged her shoulders. “I think I'm going to have to go on a date with Bill.”

As your heart went down at her shocking words, your cock went the other way.