The weight of your virginity felt like a noose around your neck. Months of worrying about pleasing her, and lasting long enough in the bedroom had begun to wear on you. But she never seemed to mind, she told you it was fine that you wanted to wait and sex wasn't all that important to her. It took months for you to believe it.
But today gave you some doubts. It's completely your fault.
You shouldn't have rummaged through her stuff without asking, but you didn't want her to know why you urgently needed measuring tape (to measure your dick, again). You just started opening random drawers, and found... this.
You grab all of them and sit on her bed. So many Polaroids of her and just as many dicks. Long, thick, erect cocks. In every photo she looked greedy and insatiable. Forget the measuring tape: your dick is clearly smaller than any she'd had before. Too many blowjobs, footjobs, handjobs to count (though you do count). Memories of the times you fooled around resurface. She always told you —because you wouldn't stop asking— how good you made her feel. That made you feel better, her reassurances and compliments.
But from these images it's clear that none of these men had to ask. Dizziness overwhelmed you as her eyes glazed over in pleasure, drool seeping from her mouth. You had never seen her like this before, utterly gone.
Moron. You needed verbal validation of her pleasure. You never once considered a real man would leave her senseless.
Your dizziness spirals into something else as you imagine her soft moans in the air. You can almost feel the heavy breathing and the pressure of his skin against hers, echoing off those pink walls. Actually, these pink walls. Wait, those are these pink walls.It happened right here, on this bed.
You can tell by her haircut that these were all before you met her. But you started leaking in those 5 seconds it took you to confirm. It was all the spark you needed. A wildfire of guilt and arousal consumes you; a desperate urge to flip over and press your face into the sheets takes over, but it can't beat how aroused you are now, knowing beyond a doubt that you will only disappoint her.
Your brain already selected an intrusive thought for your torture, and timing your stokes to it only made you harder.
She'll be your first, and you'll be her worst.
She'll be your first, and you'll be her worst.
She'll be your first, and you'll be her worst.
Every negative thought in your head just made you horny. That realization came with more waves of shame and pleasure.
Your girlfriend has so many male friends, tall male friends, confident and annoying guys that made you feel like the third wheel. Did she tell any of them that you're a virgin?
All those group hang-outs. All that time believing you could please her, surrounded by the men who actually did. How many of these men have you met? Do you know this one?
You're getting close now.
It takes her one hand (okay two fingers), to give you a handjob. Your pants don't even come down. She needed two hands to wrap around the cock in this picture, and she's smiling like she accomplished something. Imagine how smug he must've looked. Of course. There's a 90% chance you bought brunch or covered drinks for that dick.
That thought sends you over the edge.
You've always needed something more, something extreme and out of bounds to get off. But a few polaroids won't cut it anymore; now you want to know every vivid detail. How would you even bring this up? You know she likes sex much more than she lets on, but going from old pictures to cucking in front of people is a big jump.
What would you say? "I understand that you fake all your orgasms and haven't been honest about it. I know I can't ever satisfy you because I want to see you just like this, in this bedroom, with this guy, at this angle, getting fucked into oblivion and yet still perfect."
Who the fuck was taking photos?
