EROTICA | FRIENDSHIP | CUCKOLD

Watching Morgan: Cuckolded by my Best Friend (Part 1)

Morgan had been my best friend since grade school. Now, our friendship was changing as our hormones began pushing at us. She decides to let those desires run, even if in an unconventional way…

The first of a two-part series.

Don’t forget to read all the way to the bottom, clap, and comment! Medium has changed their algorithm in the way they pay authors.

And click FOLLOW on the MyErotica pub, to make sure you don’t miss the exciting stories coming everyday.

I met my best friend Morgan in grade school. She shamed a 6th grade bully from beating me up in the schoolyard. We were both in 4th grade. We were basically inseparable after that. I had never had a ‘girl’ friend before. Though now that I look back on it, she was always a bit of what we used to call a tomboy. She liked to join the boys in sports. That made it easier.

As a plus, she was really good at my favorite sport: soccer. She had started on a team as a five-year-old, and was already the star of the local soccer club at ten. I would never be a star like her, but I had become a serious student of the game, even at that age. We would often kick a soccer ball between us all the way back and forth to school.

We even hung together in the schoolyard during recess. The other boys made fun of me for hanging around with a girl. I didn’t care. We were… what I now understand as ‘simpatico.’ Comfortable with each other, with shared interests and had some kind of connection which neither of us really understood.

By the time we got to high school, we were about as close as a boy and girl could get. We loved each other, confided all our insecurities and joys as only genuine friends could. We spent an amazing amount of time together. But for those mysterious reasons that these things happen, it never went to the next level.

That closeness was a two-edged sword for me. Because we spent so much time together, no other girl would date me. They figured I was WITH Morgan, or I was gay. Either way, these girls knew they couldn’t compete with Morgan for my attention, so they never tried.

And they were right in one sense. I had… let’s call them ‘complicated’ feelings. Oh yes. Conflicted even! I wanted to go out on dates, sure. Wanted to touch a real breast, even kiss a girl. But I was not interested in dating anyone else either. I wanted her! My love for Morgan was so strong, and I was so busy with school activities, that dating anyone else… I just never got around to it.

Despite that, I wanted my relationship with Morgan to be more, that’s for sure. I pined for her like only a teenage boy can, wanting her in the worst way!

We often spent summer evenings in the tree house her dad had built for her and her siblings. She would think nothing of wearing the most revealing outfits. Like a thin tank top with no bra, paired with yoga shorts that hugged her so tight, I had little doubt of what she would look like… down there.

And she had a lot to look at. By the time we reached later high school years, she was no longer just the prettiest girl in school; she was also the hottest. Her hair had grown into a lush auburn, grown to mid-back. Those deep brown eyes were bright with her native intelligence, and so sensual… Oh god… she had the most sexually expressive eyes I had ever seen. But maybe that’s just my prejudice. Her breasts were deep into C-cups, probably closer to D, and her lifelong love of sports had left her fit and trim. This girl was the total package.

Just not for me, apparently. When she would unthinkingly taunt me with that body as we spent time in the tree house, I would frequently go home with a raging hard-on, beating my meat as soon as I got to my bedroom. I often had to hide my lap with a backpack or coat to keep my folks from seeing my excitement.

Turns out, she knew about my feelings, just didn’t want them to interfere with our friendship. She had had some short-term boyfriends by that time, tiring of them easily, never returning. Morgan didn’t want our closeness to go that same way. I was her best friend, too.

That’s not to say we didn’t find a way to be closer…

When she started dating, she would always share her love life with her best friend. The fact that her best friend was jealous and wanted to be on that date never came up. Truth is, by that time, I kind of understood the need for a sexual separation. Our friendship was the most important thing in the world to me.

By senior year, Morgan was actively dating and had developed a reputation as a girl willing to do a lot. As we spent time together, typically in the tree house, she began opening up to me about her sexual adventures. She told me about the first time she allowed someone to finger her. About her first hand job. The time she sucked someone off under the bleachers.

All these stories hurt me, because I wanted to be the one doing them with her. I never let on. Despite that, frustration continued to grow. I would have to find an outlet somehow. If Morgan wasn’t going to be my romantic girlfriend, then I needed to find a relationship of my own.

During that time of my life, I just couldn’t do it. Let her go, I mean. Find another. I loved her with everything I was.

Late in our senior year, something happened which even now is hard for me to explain. We were up in the tree house. I was sharing my frustrations at being unable to find a date for the upcoming prom. No one would go with me.

And it wasn’t because I wasn’t good looking. By then I was six-feet tall, strong and fit. A handsome guy (at least that’s what my mother said). My longish dark hair and ‘brooding’ brown eyes… okay, maybe the glasses didn’t help. But I wasn’t one of those kids sitting in their basement playing video games all the time.

Anyway, I knew the real reason. My relationship with Morgan! Though I didn’t say that. My friend already had a date, of course. She had multiple offers.

That night, Morgan told me I wasn’t missing much, finally opening up about what her dates were really like. They weren’t the fun ‘sex fests’ she tried to imply. She told me about the assholes, the petting they all required, especially the popular boys. She had resisted going all the way up to that point, and was not sure she was ready. Apparently, the guys didn’t appreciate her ‘halfway’ approach.

I encouraged her to wait until she was sure. No reason to rush it. Listen to me! At the rate I was going, I’d ALWAYS be a virgin! Who am I to give her advice?

All our sexual openness over the years had made her willing to talk about what she did. “There was this one guy…” she would say, then launch into exceptional detail about what she did with them.

Morgan seemed to really enjoy telling me the stories. I was not mature enough to recognize the signs of her growing exhibitionism. Or sensitive enough to understand what those meant. The more I think about this formative time in my life, the easier it is to understand how it veered in such an odd direction. Those stories had no trouble getting my teenage libido going!

This time, the story was about the amazing size of Jack Albertson’s cock. He was a big football player at our school. Morgan went on and on. She could barely get the huge thing in her mouth when they parked out at the Maruski’s farm.

There was a secluded road up the side of the Maruski’s property, leading to a stretch of flat land hidden from the highway. Kids went out there to find some privacy. It became our ‘lover’s lane,’ I guess. All the kids knew about it.

Anyway, Morgan went on and on about how difficult it was to get her hand around that monster and how the head barely fit in her mouth, much less the rest. In the end, she just jacked him off. Her language was plain and explicit.

I can’t explain why this time was so different, or even how we transitioned from being one way and then suddenly another. Maybe it was the way she told the story, or the descriptive detail she used that day. Maybe it was my growing horniness and a burgeoning voyeurism of my own.

Whatever it was, I reacted, growing as hard as I had ever been in my young life. That stiff man-meat throbbed inside my gym shorts. It grew so much I had to change position to relieve the pinching pressure. She noticed.

“Liked that story, Zach?” she giggled, her eyes riveted on the massive bulge pressing out of my shorts. I wasn’t big like her date, but I wasn’t small either. Definitely above average. 7–8 inches, I think.

I tried to hide it. “I’m sorry. Don’t know what happened. I guess I did like it.”

She touched my leg. “No need to hide it. I like doing that for you.” Morgan stared at the bulge, her eyes flashing with an arousal I had never seen.

“Want to hear more?” she asked, her breathing now ragged.

“If you want to…”

“Pull it out and stroke yourself. I’ll tell you the story while you jack off. That would be hot.”

“Morgan… you sure? You never seemed interested in that stuff with me.”

“I’m not going to touch you, silly. I’ve just never watched a guy do it.”

My heart pounded in my chest as I reached down, pulling my shorts off. Her eyes locked on the shaft and its angry purple head, demanding attention. I couldn’t believe how hard I was!

“Take your shirt off, and lie back,” she said.

I was now completely naked with my best friend… for the first time! But to my chagrin, she was still fully clothed. What was happening? Was she going to touch me?

I began stroking myself, and Morgan continued her story, eventually lying down to cuddle against me as she started over.

“Jack wanted to go out to Maruski’s for a little fun. I told him I didn’t go all the way. He said fine; that I could show him my tits and suck him, couldn’t I? I could do that, I told him.”

Pre-cum leaked out of the head. I used it for some lube.

“Is that how you do it? Use that stuff that comes out?”

“When?”

“When you beat off.” I must have flashed a bright red. She giggled, sitting up, taking her T-shirt and bra off. I had dreamed about those breasts almost my whole life. Now, there they were, right in front of me. She went back to cuddling, this time with her breasts pressing against my side. My friend seemed unembarrassed about taking her top off in front of me.

“No, I buy lube at the store. You drive me crazy with all your stories,” I confessed, still a little worried at what was happening. “I would get sore as often as I do it.”

“You beat off a lot?”

“Yes, Morgan. All high school boys do, especially ones frustrated about never getting a girl.”

Morgan’s hand came up. It was like she wanted to touch me, to do the stroking herself, but she pulled it back, settling into the cuddle tighter.

“Anyway… he had my blouse off soon as he found us a spot. There were already 5 cars there. I reached around, taking off my bra as slowly as I could.” She giggled at that, knowing I would think she was a tease. “He began pinching and stroking my nipples. I like that.”

“Who wouldn’t like THOSE tits?” I laughed.

She sat up again, holding her tits out to me. “You think so? You think they’re nice?”

“Those are the most beautiful tits I have ever seen. It’s all I can do not to touch them now.”

That seemed to shake her out of those thoughts. She fell back to cuddle against me, almost covering them up. No, she didn’t want to do that.

“I reached over to undo his belt, pulling his shorts down. He was HUGE, Zach! That log was never going down MY throat!” she protested to me. “Everything would have been fine if he hadn’t started talking. ‘Come on, babe,’ he told me. ‘You can take care of me, can’t you?’ What was I to say to that? We were already at the Farm with half our clothes off, but I hate it when guys plead like whiny little boys. The least he could do was take my hand and place it on his cock. I like guys that take charge so much better.”

“You want them to force you?”

“No, Zach, of course not. There’s a big difference between that and being assertive. I need an aggressive guy that shows me what he wants. I worried he had already ruined everything, that he would start whimpering if I didn’t take my pants off. We were past stopping now. I reached over to stroke him. He groaned at my touch… I liked that, at least.”

She reached up again, almost losing the war to touch me, pulling back at the last moment.

“You can touch it if you want,” I said, wanting that in the worst way.

“No, Zach! You know if we go in that direction, our friendship will be finished. You need to understand. Your best friend is a hopeless slut. Once we start, you’ll want me to be true blue, the way I know you are.”

She sat up again. You might think all her popping up and down, interrupting the ‘flow,’ so to speak, would disturb my erection. Not a chance! It did just the opposite. My eyes worshiped those flopping breasts with nipples now pointy and hard. Even then, I knew this had gotten her very excited. Yet, there was worry in those eyes, despite her unconcern about being naked in front of her best friend.

The conversation turned serious for a moment. “I would never have to worry about you cheating on me, would I, Zach?”

“No, of course not. I would never do that.”

“That’s why we can’t take that step. I’m sorry. I’ve always known you wanted to,” she said, touching my chest, seeming almost in tears. “But I can’t make the same promise. Isn’t this enough? I can tell you stories and you can beat off in front of me. That way, you can find your relief and I can be who I am. Win/win, right?”

“I love you, Morgan. Always have.”

“I love you too,” she said, “just as much. Don’t you see? That’s why I can’t do that. I’m just not the one-man woman you need. As much as I enjoy all the petting and sucking, I know when I go all the way, I won’t want to stop. I can’t bear the thought of breaking your heart, putting you through that turmoil. Can’t this be enough?”

I laid back on the beanbag chair, nodding it was, returning to stroking. What was I supposed to say? Hanging there with my dick out with the most beautiful girl in school? I couldn’t believe we were going this far! I wanted so much more, but this would have to do.

She could tell I had agreed to her terms. “I got up on my knees,” she said, returning to the story. She had gone back to cuddling, pressing her breasts against me again. “The head was so big! I could barely get it in my mouth.” She looked up at me, pantomiming trying to get some huge log into her mouth. “Huge, you know what I mean?”

I nodded, shocked at her brazen behavior and the details she was telling me.

“Thankfully, both my hands were free. It took both of them to get around it. I figured I could suck on the head while going back and forth with my hands. That would work for you, wouldn’t it?” she teased.

“Oh yes. That would work.”

“So I did. Thankfully, guys seldom take very long.”

She pretended to suck and stroke with her hands at the same time. But her hands moved right next to mine, stroking up and down at my pace. It was like she was pretending to do ME at the same time.

The image of her actually doing it to me pushed my need over the edge. I was slamming hard on my cock, staring at her tits jiggling against me as her hands kept pace with mine.

I groaned. She stopped pretend-stroking, settling in to watch. My explosions went everywhere. As an adult, I now know that I produce a lot of semen. Way more than your average guy. But for our first time, Morgan’s eyes grew wide as the white cream went all over my chest and stomach, catching a little of her side boob. I tried to keep my grunting down to a low volume. That just made her giggle.

“No need to be quiet for me, Zach. I want to see the real you. All of you,” she giggled, looking at the cream everywhere. I had to pull a gym shirt out of my backpack to soak it all up. She just stared at the goo while I cleaned.

Our eyes could not separate as she cleaned off the cream that had flown to her boob. She put it in her mouth. “You taste so good…”

Morgan, true to her words, was a randy young lady. Virtually every date ended in some form of sex. She remained reluctant to go all the way, though let the guys do about anything else. Tongues, fingers and lips were all allowed to be used on her. Luckily, she came easily and often. She would reward their efforts by sucking them to completion or a hand job.

And she really wanted to see the real me! For the rest of that year and into the summer, every time she had a date, she would tell me about the event in advance. After it was over, she would text me she was on the way to my house. Luckily, my bedroom was on the first floor. I would leave my window unlatched.

She snuck through the bedroom window I always left unlatched, telling me what she did with them while I stroked myself to incredible releases. She would tell me ahead of time, so I was always home when she had a date. After that first time, nothing was more important to me than my after-date sessions with Morgan. I fantasized WE had gone on the date. That I was the one having sex with the woman I loved.

At first, she stayed fully clothed as I stroked myself. That didn’t last. Soon, she took all her clothes off as soon as she came through the window, cuddling close to me on the bed. Sometimes, she showed me the red flesh of her folds as she told me about how the guy used his hands on her.

By late in the summer, she also broke another rule. She took great delight in cleaning the semen off me. I kept a box of tissues next to the bed. She would sit with her knees pressed against me, her tits bouncing as she leaned over me, wiping every trace of white goo off my body, including my cock. I just laid back and let her do it.

One time, I couldn’t help myself. I reached up to stroke her nipple as it swayed in front of me. After that, she required me to trap my hands under me, to prevent any more ‘getting handsy’ while she cleaned me up. I just smiled. Watching her breasts sway over me was plenty of eye candy to keep me interested.

Now that I look back on it, I realize how this time with Morgan reoriented my sexual brain for the future. It was like I had learned second-hand sex as the norm, living my sexual life through my best friend. In every way that mattered, she had ‘cuckolded’ me at a very early age, even though that description for me didn’t really fit… yet. Back then, I had never even heard of the term.

Nothing else mattered in my young life. I was so turned on by her actions and how excited she was to share her stories with me, I never even thought about going out to find someone else.

That all changed when my best friend decided to cuckold me for real. I would never be the same again.

Continued in Part 2

This story is an excerpt from a book called ‘Watching Morgan: Cuckolded by my Best Friend.’ Zach eventually gets married to someone else. Little did he know, his cuckolding had just begun. Click here to read the book.

Thanks for reading my stories. Click here to read more.

Checkout the oakviewpublishing.com website for more information about my books, and other Oakview authors.