My teammate caught me getting bred by her boyfriend

My teammate’s boyfriend was also my ex-fling. We’d hooked up for a few months before he ever met her, late nights, no labels, the kind of arrangement that lived in texts and dorm rooms and the back of his car. He was rough in a way I liked too much. He had a thick cock that he knew how to use and a mouth that made me scream and beg for mercy every time we were alone. When they started dating, I told myself it was fine; we were done. I could be normal about it; it’s like we had never slept together at all.

At parties I played nice; I’d smile when she brought him over. I’d laugh like it was part of the script in a movie. I’d pretend my stomach didn’t tighten every time his eyes found mine across a room. We got good at the act of pretending like he hadn’t bent me over and filled me with cum on more than one occasion.

Underneath our facade, the truth wasn’t so great. His jaw flexed when I showed up in something short, and my pulse spiked when he stood close enough that I could smell his cologne and remember exactly how it used to cling to my sheets after.

As things got more serious between them, the texts started.

“You’re making this hard.”

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“You need to stay away so I don’t do something stupid.”

Unfortunately, that only made me want to do it more.

Every warning felt like a hand around my throat. Every “we can’t” sat low in my stomach and turned into heat. I knew it was messy. I knew she was my teammate. I still fell asleep replaying the way he used to pin my wrists and tell me to take his big cock.

It all culminated one night at a house party.

I didn’t drink much that night and neither did he. My teammate got pulled into some drinking game with a couple of the other girls on the team and was completely wasted by the end of the night, stumbling, laughing too loud, the kind of wasted where you don’t exactly remember what you did when you wake up. When it was time to leave, he had to basically carry her. Her apartment was right next to mine. I followed them out, pretending it was just to make sure she got back safe. Part of me meant it; I cared about my teammate. The rest of me already knew the rest of the truth; this was my chance to break him.

He got her inside, down the hall, into bed. I waited in the living room with my arms crossed, listening to the soft sounds of him getting her water and her shoes off. When he came back out, he closed her bedroom door most of the way and stopped. For a second we just looked at each other in the dim light from the kitchen.

He said, in a low voice so it wouldn’t carry, “You know we can’t just keep pretending that we didn’t happen, right? Every party. Every look. You’re in my head constantly; I can’t do that to her.”

“You’re the one that wants to pretend.” My mouth was dry. My body was already reacting to the proximity. “I remember what you used to do to me.” I let the pause sit for dramatic effect. “And I miss it.”

Something flickered in his eyes. dark, dominant, the exact expression he used right before he started getting rough with me. My stomach did flips. An image flashed in my mind: me on my knees, his hand in my hair, that thick cock stretching my mouth while he told me to be good. Heat flooded between my legs so fast it was embarrassing.

He stepped in. I met him halfway.

Our mouths crashed together, open and hungry, none of the restraint we’d been performing for months. His hands went under my shirt; mine shoved at his jacket. My top came off and hit the floor somewhere behind the couch. Cool air hit my bare breasts and then his hands were on them, rough and possessive, thumbs dragging over my nipples until they were tight and aching. He backed me into the couch. The edge caught the back of my knees and I went down. He followed, settling between my thighs, the hard line of his cock pressing against me through our clothes as he ducked his head and sucked one nipple into his mouth hard enough to make my back arch.

“Fuck.” The sound tore out of me before I could stop it. “I missed this. You fucked me so good.”

A low, primal noise rumbled out of his chest. His hand left my breast, yanked at the waistband of my shorts, and dragged them down my legs in one impatient motion. I lifted my hips to help. Then I was naked on my teammate’s couch with her boyfriend kneeling between my spread thighs, staring at my pussy like he was starving.

He kissed down my stomach, rough stubble scraping sensitive skin, and I parted my legs wider without being asked. The first pass of his tongue through my folds made me bite down on my knuckle. He locked his mouth around my clit and flicked it hard and quick, the way he knew he drove me wild, while two thick fingers pushed into my soaking cunt and curled. My eyes rolled into the back of my head involuntarily.

The dual sensation, his tongue on my clit, his fingers stretching me open, short-circuited every thought that wasn’t “more” and “don’t stop” and “she’s right in the other room." The risk sat right next to the pleasure, making it that much more intense. Wet, filthy sounds filled the living room as he fingered me deeper, faster, eating me like he was furious about how long he’d made himself wait. I panted his name through clenched teeth, desperately trying to keep the volume down, thighs shaking around his head.

“Please!!!!” I whimpered. “Fuck me. I need your cock. I need you to fill me.”

He pulled his mouth off me just long enough to look up, lips shiny with my juices. “After you cum, slut.”

His words hit me hard and I felt my pussy drip just a little bit more. He went back down, sucking my clit and pumping his fingers; the wet, sloppy sound of my pussy being worked open got louder and more obscene. I was dripping down his wrist onto the couch. The knowledge that my teammate was passed out twenty feet away, that any louder noise could end this, only made the heat worse. My blood felt like it was boiling while I lay there getting used. I shoved my fist against my mouth and still couldn’t fully stay quiet.

When I came, it ripped out of me in a high, broken squeal. My squirt shot out over his mouth and chin, soaking the couch cushion beneath us. My legs trembled violently and he groaned like he enjoyed it and kept licking me through my orgasm, drinking what he could, fingers still working inside me while I pulsed and soaked his face the way I used to when we were still a secret.

I was still coming down, boneless and twitching, when I felt something much thicker press against my entrance. It was his cock. I barely had time to breathe before he pushed in.

The stretch forced a loud, helpless moan out of me. He was as big as I remembered, thick enough to force my pussy wide around him, tunneling deeper and deeper until he bottomed out and my vision went white at the edges. I grabbed my breasts, back arching off the cushions, as he started to fuck me with none of the restraint he’d shown in texts for months. His hand wrapped around my throat.

He squeezed just enough to make my breath go thin and my head go light while he thrust hard and deep, using my still-sensitive cunt like he was punishing both of us for every look we’d exchanged at parties. My legs shook on every thrust. Every time he buried himself to the hilt, a broken whimper rasped out of me around the pressure of his palm.

“Such a fucking whore,” he growled under his breath, hips snapping. “Missed this dick so bad you followed us home. Say it.”

“I’m your whore!” My voice came out breathless, “Fill me up, Daddy, I missed this cock.”

He released my throat and I moaned obscenely, past caring who might hear. The risk wasn’t a deterrent anymore. I wanted to get caught; I wanted the couch to creak. I wanted the wet slap of his hips against me to fill the room for anyone to hear. Some filthy, reckless part of me even wanted her to wake up and see exactly what her boyfriend’s thick cock looked like buried in me.

My pussy leaked and squelched around him with every brutal thrust. He fucked me hard enough that the couch shifted. Deep, powerful strokes that punched into me and dragged broken cries out of my throat every single time. My nails dug into his shoulders. My tits bounced with the force of it. I was so wet it was running down onto the cushion in a mess of my squirt and his precum.

“Put your ass in the air,” he ordered, voice strained. “I’m cumming in you like the bitch you are.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He pulled out with a wet sound that made me whimper at the sudden emptiness. I rolled over on shaking arms and stuck my ass up, chest down on the couch, presenting myself like the exact kind of messy, disloyal slut I was being. Behind me I heard him spit, then felt the thick head of his cock line up again. He shoved back in to the hilt in one thrust.

The angle in doggy made him feel impossibly deep. I almost screamed from the pleasure. I stuffed my face into the cushion and still couldn’t fully muffle the sound as he started railing me, hard and relentless, hips slamming against my ass hard enough that the clap of skin echoed through the apartment. The couch scraped faintly on the floor, my pussy stretched around him on every stroke, dripping, taking the punishment like it had been waiting months for it.

“I’m going to cum,” he gritted out.

“Cum for me! Fill me, please, Daddy, fill me up.”

That was when I saw movement in the corner of my eye. My teammate stood in the hallway entrance, still clearly not all the way sober, one hand on the wall for balance. Her expression was caught between confusion and the slow, dawning horror of understanding what she was looking at. I didn’t get a chance to speak.

He buried himself to the root and came with a broken groan, thick, hot ropes of cum flooding my pussy in heavy pulses while she watched. The sensation of being filled while her eyes were on us dragged a helpless moan out of me. My cunt clenched around him, milking every drop like my body hadn’t gotten the message that we’d been caught.

“Oh, fuck!!” he choked.

He pulled out too late. Cum spilled from my stretched hole in a thick, messy trail, dripping down my thighs and onto the couch cushion in a visible wet streak of my squirt and his load. He slapped my ass hard enough to sting, then scrambled for his pants, already launching into a panicked “It's not what it looks like” that wasn’t going to save anyone.

I stayed frozen for a second too long, ass up, dripping his cum, heart hammering before survival instinct finally kicked in. While he tried to steer her toward the bathroom and talk over what she’d just seen, I grabbed my clothes in a shaking fist and got out of that apartment as fast as I could without fully falling over. I made it into my own place next door and locked the door with my forehead against the wood, still naked from the waist down, his cum leaking out of me onto my floor.

They broke up a few days later.

It's impossible to explain away a couch soaked in squirt and cum even if she’d been blacked out for the first half of the night. She resented me for a while, cold in the locker room, silent in the huddle before eventually deciding he was the one who’d broken his word, and I was just a victim of circumstance. We patched things enough to function on the court. We were never going to be close again, though.

I haven’t slept with him since. I still think about the weight of his hand on my throat and the way he filled me while she watched.