Cucked by Ugly Old Neighbor Ch. 01

I had been dating Sarah for almost a year after meeting her at a church retreat. At that time, Sarah was still a senior in college, and I was a couple of years older with a place of my own and a full-time job. She was a petite, shy little thing, with shoulder-length blonde hair and small, but perky, breasts. Imagine a much shorter version of Taylor Swift. She had a sheltered upbringing, coming from a close-knit family who were as wholesome as an 80s sitcom. Her big sister was her best friend, with her mother coming in close behind.

We took things slow as she never had a serious boyfriend before. It didn't help that she was insecure about her body. After a couple of months, we finally had sex but it always had to be with the lights off and under the covers. I could never get her to climax, even when I went down on her. It really frustrated me as female orgasms were my biggest turn on. I still held onto hope as she did confess that she is able to cum when masturbating in the tub.

Now with Sarah out of college and working an entry-level job, she moved into a cheap one-bedroom apartment. I had offered for her to stay with me, but she insisted that she wanted privacy and some freedom in her new adult life. That's where the nightmare started.

Sarah had struck up an acquaintance with an old man who lived across the hallway. They met in the laundry room and would exchange long conversations that she would tell me about on our dates. I didn't like the situation at all. He was not only old, probably in his mid-to-late fifties, but chubby and slovenly. He never looked clean shaven and had the withered face of a smoker. According to Sarah, he was her guardian angel since he would walk her to her car at night to make sure she was safe. I figured he had nothing better else to do. He didn't have a job, but collected disability benefits because of a "bad knee." The only family he mentioned was an estranged daughter who Sarah reminded him of.

I reasoned that Sarah was still young and naive, and a little bit too trusting, to understand this type of relationship can be dangerous, or at least lead to a misunderstanding. What was surprising was how she acted around him. Often when I picked her up on dates, he would just so happen to be leaving his apartment. I would stand there awkwardly while Sarah excitedly chatted with him. He would work in raunchy jokes and she'd giggle and smile at me, without any sort of modesty. I felt crazy not knowing whether she was flirting with him or just being nice, but in either case, I knew the old man was enjoying getting the attention of a young attractive girl. I didn't confront her about my boiling jealousy because I didn't want to seem petty or weak, and admittingly I was even afraid of planting the idea that he was lusting after her, as who knows what racy thoughts might spring in her maybe-not-so-innocent mind.

One night I went over to her apartment for some Netflix-and-chill, but when Sarah opened the door, I saw the old man sitting on her couch. She explained it was his birthday and didn't want him to be alone. He certainly wasn't dressed for the occasion, wearing just gray sweatpants and a plain shirt with what appeared to be a pasta stain on it. If he wanted to hide his pot belly, he chose the wrong attire.

But what made my skin crawl was that she sat right next to him, forcing me to roll over her computer chair for a place to sit. The old man was gulping down a six-pack of cheap beer. Sarah didn't like the taste of alcohol and I had no interest in drinking watered-down piss from a can, not that he offered me any. So Sarah and I watched him finish one beer after another while he recounted a story of how he tried to proposition a young cocktail waitress for sex at a casino before he got kicked out. She hung onto every word while I rolled my eyes and glanced at her to study her body language. She was wearing a short black skirt with a pink spaghetti strap top. She had her legs resting on the couch cushion, with her index finger on her lower lip and her other hand running up and down her thigh ever so slightly.

"So...," the old man said to Sarah with a wry smile. "Are you wearing them?"

Sarah looked immediately embarrassed. She turned to me and then back at him with her eyes wide. She let out a nervous laugh.

"I think you're a little drunk," she teased.

"But it's my birthday gift."

"Yeah, but I was kinda hoping you would forget."

It was clear that they had some sort of inside joke that I was not a part of, and it made me feel so invisible. With all of the courage I could muster, I asked Sarah what they were talking about.

"We were folding clothes in the laundry room today, and he took a liking to one of my panties. He wouldn't stop begging me to wear them tonight for his birthday. I told him I would think about it. It was just a joke."

I didn't have to ask her which ones. She owned only one sexy pair: green lace panties she bought as a Valentine's Day gift.

The old man tapped her knee. "You still haven't answered my question, are you wearing them?"

Sarah let out a sigh. "I can't believe you're making me do this." Her face was beet red, and so was mine.

After a moment's pause, Sarah stood up from the couch with her back turned to him and pulled up her black skirt to reveal her green lace panties. They were hugging her ass. With his fat face gawking at her soft tush, she stood on her toes to lift up and clench her cheeks. I sat there frozen in disbelief. A bolt of crippling jealousy radiated throughout my body. She looked over her shoulder to see the old man's expression. I couldn't tell whether she was mortified or turned on: both look the same on the face of an innocent girl. She twirled around to show off the front, the contours of her pussy clearly in his sight, and then, mercifully, she let her skirt drape back down to her thighs and retreated on the couch.

"You've had your fun, now let's change the subject," Sarah whined.

But that wouldn't be so easy. The old man was sporting a huge erection inside his sweatpants. I wasn't even quite sure if he had underwear on, as his dick was raised at full staff.

Silence washed over the room. Sarah's eyes were fixated on his bulge. After taking it all in, she then cleared her throat and stared at the floor.

The old man hunched over and broke the ice. "I'm getting a little low on beer." He looked at me. "How about you get me another six-pack from the gas station down the street?"

That might have been the first thing he said to me to all night.

"Why not get it yourself?" I shot back, my fist clenching at my side.

"I'm in no condition to drive," he huffed. "And I've had too many DUIs in my lifetime to risk another."

Sarah agreed with the old man. My heart sank.

I wanted to refuse, but I was afraid if I expressed my feelings, I would break down crying. I don't handle stressful situations well, and I felt the need to be in some sort of control.

I walked outside and got into my car, not knowing how the rest of the night was going to turn out.

As I stood in line at the gas station with a six pack in hand, I couldn't stop worrying about what could be going on back in her apartment. With me gone, I feared the old man becoming more emboldened and taking things way too far with my helpless girlfriend. And worse, how Sarah might respond to it. I kept reminding myself of how unlikely such a sexual pair they would be, her a pretty college graduate, and him a poor ugly bastard with nothing else going on in his life, not to mention she would be putting our relationship at risk. But paranoia still swelled in my head.

It all came back to her green lace panties. When she slipped them on today, she must have been thinking about the old man. Did that make her wet? And he didn't even ask her to lift up her skirt. She did it on her own when a simple yes or no to his question may have sufficed. As much as I despised the dirty pervert, I couldn't blame him for getting rock hard with her cute ass so close to his face he could have spit on it. My sweet girlfriend deposited that image right into his spank bank and he was free to hold onto it as long as he could. I just had to hope his massive erection wouldn't creep its way into her own masturbatory fantasies. But would I ever know if it did? Only Sarah had the key to her darkest desires. Asking her upfront would prove to be a no-win situation: either she would deny it, which meant she could be lying, or admit it and devastate me. I dreaded this nagging mystery would be a stone in my shoe for the rest of my life, regardless if we broke up.

I got back to the apartment building and stood outside her door. My heartbeat was like a hummingbird's. I didn't know what was on the other side. I couldn't really hear anything, but that only piqued my curiosity more. I gripped the knob and slowly twisted it, hoping Sarah didn't lock it after I left. The door gave way and I peeked my head inside. What I saw sent shivers down my spine.

The old man was seated with his sweatpants around his ankles stroking his fat cock. His heavy balls and matted pubic hair formed a bird's nest around his chubby thighs. He was leering at my petite girlfriend who had her back leaning against the armrest on the other side of the couch, her full body facing him. All of Sarah's clothing had miraculously been removed, except for her green lace panties, which she had her hand stuffed into. I almost gasped, but I didn't want to interrupt the scene, no matter how horrific it was unfolding. This was my opportunity to see who my girlfriend truly was: a reluctant pawn in the old man's sick game, or the roleplaying slut of her own filthy fantasy.

Her eyes pointed at his lap, her mouth agape, bewildered by the old man's swollen sausage and the sagging skin on his scrotum that stretched and bounced as he tugged. She stared at his Frankenstein cock as if it was trying to leap up and attack her. Her hand inside her panties seemed to have a mind of its own, furiously rubbing her pussy while the rest of her delicate body was paralyzed in fear and disgust. A mix of raw emotions were swirling in my own body: humiliation, excitement, shame, arousal.

I couldn't tell what part of my girlfriend the old man was ogling at, but if I had to guess, it would be her schoolgirl breasts. They were fully exposed, and looked so chaste and vulnerable on her small frame. She was like a doll that had just come out of the box. This was the ultimate prize for the dirty old pervert. He was a hungry wolf stalking through the woods and Little Red Riding Hood was serving herself to him on a silver platter. And I was letting it all happen.

My throbbing dick was pressing against my pants. I tried to reposition it, but the damn six pack dangling from my hand loudly clanged against the door.

My half-naked girlfriend looked over at me and yelped. She crossed her arms over her chest, and raised her knees to cover her crotch. The old man didn't flinch at all. For all I knew, he saw me the whole time. With Sarah's body now shielded, he stopped touching himself, letting his hard cock stand proudly on its own.

Sarah plopped her face against the back of the couch.

"I was just trying to be nice," she cried into the cushion.

The old man chuckled, "That's true. She's been a real sweetheart to me. Best birthday I've had since I turned the big five-O. And I ended that night in jail. Indecent exposure is a victimless crime, I say."

If I could pause time, I might have been able to pick up the pieces of my shattered ego and plan my next move. But my body at the moment was just an empty vessel being carried downstream in a river of grief and shame to do anything. I had caught my idling girlfriend debasing herself to a circus freak, a true elephant man, and he was gloating about it.

He gestured to me to bring over his new six pack. I mindlessly walked over to him, holding the cold cans of beer at my waist to hide my stiff dick from embarrassment.

I plucked one out and held it to him.

"Do you mind opening it for me? My hands are a little sweaty," he said, flashing his sticky paws.

My hands trembling, I cracked open a fresh can.

Cowered in the corner of the couch, my girlfriend brushed her blonde hair to the side to catch a glimpse of me handing the beer to the ugly old man, with his raging cock and full ballsack mocking me.

He took a sip, and then rested the heavy can precariously on the armrest next to him.

"Have a seat. I want to tell you something about your girlfriend that I think you'll appreciate."

I slunk down on the computer chair.

"You got yourself an angel, kiddo," he said, his eyes shifting toward her. "She's got everything but the wings. Her daddy must have raised her right."

His mind seemed to trail off, as if in a daydream.

He broke out of it and said, "Sweetheart, tell your boyfriend what you said to me, after he left."

Sarah raised her head from the cushion with her knees pressed close to her chin.

"I told him that..." Sarah paused and gulped. "His hard-on was a lot bigger than yours ever gets, and I didn't want you to feel insecure, so I asked him to get rid of it. I didn't expect him to just whip it out in front of me."

With my voice cracking, I asked why she had stripped off her clothes, hoping she would say the old man forced her to.

She took a beat to think about it. A guilty smirk wiped across her face and she shrugged.

That sent a dagger straight through my heart. But even in her cruelty, her charm was intoxicating.

The old man chimed in, "Birthday wishes do come true, I guess. Do you know how many times I beat off to her a day? Thank God for Instagram."

"I don't do Instagram," Sarah muttered in puzzlement.

"No, but your sister does." The old man curled his fingers around his cock and began circling his thumb against his bulbous mushroom cap. "You know which photo is my favorite? The one of you and your sis on the beach, with you two standing next to each other in your bathing suits. Almost ruined my phone I've cum on it so much."

That must have been buried deep in her sister's timeline, as I had no memory of her taking a family vacation on the coast.

My girlfriend gazed at the old man in awe. His comment seemed to trigger something inside of her. Perhaps it was the ultimate form of flattery, however twisted. Or the epiphany that what turned her on so much wasn't the attention or my jealousy, but the sheer sexual depravity of men, which plunged deeper than what she could have ever imagined.

Sarah opened her knees away from her chest, exposing her breasts and her green lace panties riding up her pussy.

I spotted a giant wave forming on the horizon and the tide was taking me in.

Sarah tilted her head toward me in distress, pleading like a little puppy having to choose between her owner and a stranger waving a bone. I could only return a desperate look of sadness and worry.

My once-shy girlfriend scooted on her butt to inch closer to the old man. She laid flat on the couch, her blonde hair spread out behind her head, her perky breasts pointed upward. She had somehow made herself look even more vulnerable in front of the drooling old pervert, like she was a new patient on a cold table waiting for the doctor to examine her.

She extended her legs and rested her porcelain feet on his rough skin thighs, right in front of his thick cock. Her sparkling toenails were painted in the color of Dorothy's ruby slippers. The dainty feet of my young girlfriend were quite the measuring stick for the old man's prized hog. He suddenly squeezed his cock toward his belly, like he was trying to prevent his fishing rod from flying out of his hand. His cock pulsated and drops of pre-cum oozed from the tip. Sarah was tickled by the surprise, letting out a cute hiccup, as she watched his squirted baby oil dribble down his hairy knuckles next to her wiggling toes.

Sarah reached inside her panties and inserted her fingers deep into her pussy and slowly stroked. Her breathing became shallow and rapid. This got the ugly bastard revved up. He started jerking himself silly and grunting unintelligible words to her. She had the old man squirming in her spider's web. He had become the prey.

Their eyes were now locked in a game of chicken, and the deviant pervert looked like he was about to lose. I sat there, tied up in a form of autoerotic asphyxiation, on the verge of blacking out and creaming my pants.

Losing patience, the old man lifted her left foot and started licking between her little piggy toes and stuffing them in his mouth.

My girlfriend exhaled a huge moan toward the ceiling, her back arching upward. Her face was in agony. With her free hand, she cupped her right breast and pinched her erect nipple. The old man released her shaking foot. Her legs flailed about, knocking the beer can from the armrest, which splattered the hardwood floor with foam and bubbles.

After catching her breath, she removed her hand from her panties and held up her wet sticky fingers over her face in admiration. For the first time, after months of trying, I had finally seen my darling girlfriend achieve orgasm, and it had all of the fireworks of a Fourth of July celebration. But it came from the creepy old man sucking on her toes and beating his ugly monster cock.

The disgusting old man and I had more in common at that moment than I ever thought we would. Our erections could have cut diamonds and had each produced enough pre-cum to fill a shot glass. But at least his ugly fat cock was free out in the open. Mine was struggling inside my pants to escape. We were both at the mercy of this petite girl who was dangling her slutty innocence in front of our faces like a pair of dirty white cotton panties. And yet out of the three of us that night, Sarah was the first to cum. Just a minute ago my half-naked girlfriend was getting her toes licked by an ugly pervert more than twice her age while her sexually frustrated boyfriend watched them both masturbate to it, and somehow it was her in that surreal scene whose mind and body yelled in unison, "Fuck it, this is way too hot!" before her entire universe collapsed unto itself.

My girlfriend had two wet fingers lined with white milky spots to show for it. With her hand over her face, Sarah protruded her tongue out and wiped her fingers on it one by one, taking a moment in between each lick to savor the taste that seemed new and exciting to her.

Watching her, the old man stuck his own tongue out and kept wetting his lips. My girlfriend noticed and pulled herself on her knees close to him. She guided her fingers to his old sagging face until his mouth quickly snatched them, causing her to moan in surprise. He sucked off the remnants of her sweet nectar in buffoonish delight. I was green with envy. The old man had gotten to taste the true essence of my girlfriend, the creamy center of a horny slut.

In haste, my girlfriend threw her lips against his and offered up her tongue, as if her mouth was getting jealous of her fingers. The old man's tongue wildly thrashed about, painting her tongue, lips, cheeks, chin and nose with his spit. With her tongue losing the wrestling match, she squeezed the old man's fat cheeks with her hands and devoured his tongue with her mouth, sucking on it until she had it tamed.

After she finally released it, the old man looked at me. "You better clean this mess up," pointing to the puddle of fizzled-out beer on the floor next to the couch, courtesy of the old man's careless attitude and my girlfriend's uncontrollable orgasm. And my own wallet, for that matter.

My girlfriend darted her eyes and beckoned me to follow my master's orders. Her half-naked body was seductively spread against the side of the old man's fat torso. Princess Leia was with her Jabba the Hut. She turned back to the old man, pushed his face in her direction and shoved her tongue down his throat, as if the old man had been depriving her of oxygen during this brief interlude.