Cucked by my Bully at the New Year's Party: Part Two

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First Betrayal

The couch was eating Tony alive, the old fabric scratching his ass through his jeans while bodies pressed past him, all hips and hands and laughter. The party was still going, obviously. The bass hammered the walls, red cups everywhere, and somewhere close a couple was making out, loud and disgusting, the kind of wet, slurping sounds that made Tony's gut twist. Dylan's shot still burned on his tongue, mixing with the sour taste of bile that kept crawling up his throat. His cock was half-hard, a pathetic bulge straining his zipper, and every time he moved, the friction sent a filthy jolt of pleasure through him that made him want to puke.

He stared at the floor, at the sticky beer stains and scuffed wood, trying to erase his brain. Trying not to see Angie's face, dripping with Kevin's cum, her lips fat and shiny, that slutty smile she gave for the camera. But it was stuck in his head, playing over and over, and every time it did, his cock throbbed harder. His hands shook. He pressed them into his thighs, but they just kept trembling like he was some scared little kid.

A shadow blocked out the light, and Tony looked up. Jenny. Blonde, big tits barely stuffed into a top that looked ready to give up. He remembered her from high school, one of Kevin's orbiters. She shoved a beer at him without asking, and he took it, his fingers numb around the bottle.

“Rough night, cock face?” Jenny’s voice was light, almost friendly, but there was an edge to it that made Tony’s shoulders tense.

He didn't answer. Just chugged the beer. It was piss-warm and flat, but he drank it anyway, needing something to do with his hands.

Jenny plopped down next to him, way too close, her thigh mashed against his. Her perfume was thick and fake, fighting with the stink of sweat and beer. "So I heard about the locker room thing. Kevin's telling everyone." She giggled, high and sharp, digging into Tony's skull. "Must've been wild. Getting cock-slapped in front of the whole team."

Tony's face went red. He tried to say something, but nothing came out. His throat was locked up, like someone had their hand around it.

"Must've left a mark if you're getting cucked this bad," Jenny went on, eyes glittering. She leaned in, her breath hot and sweet in his ear. "Your girlfriend's upstairs sucking Kevin's cock—again—and you're just sitting here, drinking beer. That's fucking pathetic, even for you."

"I—" Tony started, then shut up. What the hell was he supposed to say? That he'd watched? That he'd stood there, cock hard, while Kevin blasted Angie in the face? His brain was mush, words slipping away before he could grab them. "It's not... I didn't..."

Jenny laughed, slapped his knee like he was a little kid. "Relax, cock face. I'm just fucking with you." She leaned back, tits bouncing, and took a drink. "But really, you had to see this coming. Girl that hot, loser like you? Please."

Tony clenched his jaw, fingers squeezing the bottle so hard his knuckles went white. He wanted to tell her to fuck off, to get up and leave, but his body wouldn't move. He just sat there, useless, while Jenny's laughter drilled into his head.

Then the sound of footsteps on the stairs drew his attention, and Tony’s heart stopped.

Angie came down the stairs, sandwiched between Kevin and Dylan. This time—fuck, this time—she looked even more wrecked. Her dress was twisted, one strap falling off, tits half out, nipples peeking over the top. But it was her face and chest that made Tony's guts turn. Fresh cum, thick and white, smeared across her cheeks and dripping onto her tits. Dylan's, he realized, sick to his stomach. She'd gone from Kevin to Dylan, and now she was strutting around like it was normal.

Angie giggled, eyes glassy, stumbling as Kevin grabbed her arm to keep her upright. Kevin was grinning, that same smug asshole grin from high school, and Dylan was laughing, slapping Kevin's back like they'd just scored the winning run.

Tony's cock went rock hard, straining against his jeans, and he wanted to fucking die.

Angie looked right at him, eyes locking for a second. No apology, no shame. Just a flicker—maybe amusement, maybe pity—before she looked away, flipping her hair. She said something to Kevin, and he laughed, grabbing a handful of her ass.

“Damn, she’s insatiable,” Dylan said loudly, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. A few people turned to look, their faces lighting up with interest. “Three loads and she’s still ready for more.”

Kevin's grin got bigger, and he yanked Angie in, fingers digging into her hip. "That's because pencil dick over there never knew how to fuck her right." He jerked his head at Tony, and the crowd laughed. "Guess she finally found what she needed, huh, babe?"

Angie bit her lip, her cheeks flushed, and she nodded. “Yeah,” she breathed, her voice barely audible over the music. “God, yeah.”

Tony's vision went fuzzy, chest caving in. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do shit except sit there and watch Kevin drag Angie back toward the stairs.

“Next round, baby,” Kevin announced, his voice booming. “Let’s see if we can make that pretty face even messier.”

Dylan whooped, a few people cheered. Angie giggled, stumbling next to Kevin, her hand on his chest. They started up the stairs. Tony's body screamed at him to move, to do something, but he just sat there, frozen.

Jenny's voice sliced through his head. "Guess she finally found what you couldn't give her, huh?" She was still right there, smirk getting bigger as she watched him squirm. "Look at her. She's fucking glowing. When's the last time you made her look like that?"

Tony's mouth opened, but all that came out was a pathetic noise, half groan, half whimper. His cock throbbed, leaking pre-cum into his boxers, and he pressed his hand against it, desperate to make it stop.

Jenny giggled, loving every second of his misery. "Oh my God, you're hard right now, aren't you?" She leaned in, eyes locked on his crotch. "Holy shit, you are. You're actually getting off on this."

“I’m not—” Tony tried, but his voice cracked, and he couldn’t finish the sentence.

"Sure you're not." Jenny stood, brushed off her skirt, and nodded at the stairs. "If you want to see the grand finale, you better get up there. Kevin's probably already balls deep in her."

Tony shook his head, but his body moved anyway, legs dragging him off the couch. He felt like a puppet, yanked around by strings he couldn't cut. His feet took him to the stairs, Jenny's laughter chasing him.

“That’s it, cock face! Go watch your girlfriend get fucked by a real man!”

Tony grabbed the banister, knuckles white, and started up. Every step was heavier than the last, his cock straining, his head a mess of shame, arousal, and self-hate. He didn't want to see. Didn't want to know. But he couldn't stop.

The second floor loomed ahead, and the sounds of fucking were already drifting down the hallway.

***

The hallway stretched out in front of Tony, every closed door hiding some filthy scene. His steps were shaky, hand dragging along the wall as the sounds got louder—grunts, moans, the slap of skin on skin, all pounding in his ears. The air was thick, heavy with the stink of sex, sticking in his nose and throat. His cock throbbed with every step, a sick reminder of how much his body hated him. By the time he reached the last door, he was gasping for breath.

The door was cracked open, a slice of light in the dark. Tony pressed himself against the wall, heart pounding so hard it felt like it would break his ribs. Shadows flickered on the floor, and inside, Angie's moan cut through him, high and desperate, making his stomach knot.

Tony's hand shook as he leaned in, eye pressed to the crack in the door.

Angie was on the bed, hands and knees, dress shoved up around her waist. Kevin was behind her, pants gone, his thick cock buried in her pussy. Tony saw everything—the way Kevin's cock vanished inside her, the way her ass jiggled with every hard thrust, the way she arched her back to take more. Her tits swung under her, heavy, still streaked with Dylan's cum, her face turned, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut.

Kevin's hands clamped on her hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. He slammed into her, the bed creaking with every thrust. His abs flexed, sweat running down his chest, his face twisted in a cocky, dominant grin.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Kevin grunted, his hips snapping forward. “Tighter than I thought. Guess pencil dick really wasn’t stretching you out, huh?”

Angie moaned, a high, desperate sound that made Tony’s cock jerk in his pants. “God, yes,” she gasped, her voice ragged. “You’re so fucking big. I needed this so bad.”

Tony's vision blurred. His hand went to his crotch, pressing the bulge, and he bit his lip until he tasted blood. He couldn't look away. Couldn't move. He was stuck, nailed in place by the sight of Angie getting pounded, by the wet slap of Kevin's balls against her, by the filthy sounds coming from her mouth.

Kevin leaned forward, his chest pressing against Angie’s back, and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back. Angie cried out, her spine bowing, and Kevin’s lips were at her ear, his voice loud enough for Tony to hear.

“This is what a real man feels like, isn’t it? Not that limp dick you’ve been settling for.”

“Yes,” Angie whimpered, her voice breaking. “Fuck, yes. You feel so good.”

Kevin laughed, a cruel, triumphant sound, and released her hair to slap her ass hard. The crack echoed in the room, and Angie’s moan turned guttural. “That’s right. You’re my slut now. Say it.”

“I’m your slut,” Angie panted, her body trembling. “I’m your fucking slut.”

Tony's breath caught, and he squeezed his cock through his jeans. The pressure was torture, his balls aching, the wet spot in his boxers spreading as pre-cum leaked out. He wanted to stop, wanted to rip his hand away, but his body wouldn't listen.

And then the memory slammed into him.

The locker room. Kevin’s cock, thick and heavy, swinging as he walked toward Tony. The smirk on Kevin’s face as he grabbed his shaft, the way he’d slapped Tony across the cheek with it. The weight of it. The heat. The humiliation that had burned through Tony’s entire body, making him want to disappear, to die, but also—God, also—making his cock hard in a way he’d never experienced before.

Tony's hand moved faster, rubbing his cock through his jeans, the present and past smashing together. Kevin fucking Angie. Kevin's cock slapping his face. Angie's moans. Kevin's laughter. Shame and arousal, tangled up, impossible to pull apart.

Kevin’s thrusts grew faster, more erratic, and he pulled out of Angie with a wet, obscene sound. She whimpered at the loss, her body sagging slightly, but Kevin was already flipping her onto her back, pushing her legs apart. His cock was slick with her juices, throbbing and red, and he stroked it with one hand as he positioned himself over her face.

“Open your mouth, slut,” Kevin ordered, and Angie obeyed instantly, her tongue lolling out.

Kevin groaned, his hand pumping his cock faster, and then he was cumming, thick ropes of semen erupting from the tip. The first shot hit Angie square in the forehead, dripping down into her hair. The second splattered across her nose and cheek, and the third landed in her open mouth. She moaned, her hand moving to her clit, rubbing herself frantically as Kevin covered her face in his seed.

“Fuck yeah,” Kevin grunted, milking the last drops onto her lips. “That’s what you needed, wasn’t it? A real man’s load.”

Angie swallowed what was in her mouth and nodded, her eyes glazed with lust. “Yes,” she breathed. “Fuck, yes.”

Tony's whole body locked up. Angie's face, dripping with cum, Kevin's cock smashing into his cheek—he came, hard, hips jerking, cock pulsing, hot cum soaking his boxers. He pressed his hand down, trying to smother his ragged breathing, but the pleasure was too much, burning away everything but the filthy, twisted need inside him.

It wasn’t Angie’s body that had pushed him over the edge. It wasn’t even the sight of Kevin dominating her. It was the memory of Kevin’s cock against his face, the weight of it, the heat, the humiliation that had followed him for years and now defined him completely.

Tony staggered back, legs barely working. His pants were soaked, the wet spot spreading, the stink of his own cum mixing with the sex in the air. He turned and ran, vision swimming with tears, chest shaking with sobs he couldn't hold in.

By the time he hit the stairs, he was shaking, body wrecked with shame and exhaustion. He didn't go back to the couch. Couldn't face Jenny, couldn't face anyone. He found a corner by the back door and slid down the wall, head in his hands.

The party kept going, nobody noticing him. Midnight was still hours off. The night stretched on forever, and Tony knew—sick to his stomach—that this was just the start.