Peter, Rob, Emily, Lucy and Steve, had decided to go on a camping trip.

Peter was Lucy’s ex-boyfriend, they had split up just over a year ago and as all their friends were mutual, both had decided neither of them would be the one to miss out on the trip because of the other, with Peter not wanting to show his absence as a sign of weakness.

So as Peter otherwise knew all of them, there was one that he had never met before, and hadn’t known was going to be joining them.

And that person was Steve, Lucy’s new boyfriend. The guy she met two months before their breakup. The guy she started going out with a week after it.

Peter and Lucy had been together about a two years. They worked almost perfectly as a couple, a but there was one aspect of their relationship that didn’t. And that was sex. Peter’s bedroom performance was lacking compared to Lucy’s, sorely lacking – mainly in stamina, length and girth. He could satisfy her well enough with his tongue, but when it came to intercourse, it was an unbalanced game. It would always go the same, with Peter inserting his small cock before rutting away for a few shorts minutes.

Unsurprisingly, as time went by Peter’s requests were less likely to be granted.

By the end, their sexual routine consisted of Peter eating Lucy to orgasm before getting a short handjob, with Lucy saying she’d use her mouth the next time. Peter found this humiliating. Not only could he not enter her, but she wouldn’t even give him her mouth as he did.

His face between her legs, his mouth covered in her juices, the scent driving him crazy, sticking his fingers inside to feel the warm den that his other part was denied.

All this, only to be relieved in the smallest way possible. She wouldn’t admit it either – “Sorry…” “Maybe next time…” “Not today…”

He hated how she would sit in front of his lying body, jerking his cock, her face wearing a bored half smile as if she was extracting sperm from a farmyard pig. He hated himself for enjoying it. But what he hated most was knowing it was his fault.

She had met Steve at the gym, and she would often be out training, often and late. She broke up with Peter shortly afterwards.

They were going to be renting huts for the week near the edge of a forest.

The huts were not single huts, but one long building, with the huts sharing walls, a bit like a motel. Every two huts shared a bathroom and a small kitchen, which were at the back behind a small hall, to which each of the two huts had a door.

The camping resort they were staying in was a popular destination, and at the end of the building there was a restaurant for hikers. They had all decided to gradually meet up there, after each of them arrived and unpacked their things.

It was then that Peter got his surprise, after he had unpacked and headed out to meet the others.

They were sitting next to each other in the corner of table, his hand around her shoulder, frequently swapping kisses and smiles at each other. Peter’s heart stopped, he hadn’t expected this. “Hey Pete!” Said Rob, and the others greeted him similarly. Peter and Steve introduced themselves, Peter not looking particularly himself. The group drank and chatted till the evening. Lucy and Steve were both slightly drunk, and constantly touching each other.

Peter was tired after the journey, and the revelation of Steven joining them had shaken him. He left the restaurant first and decided to go straight to sleep when he got back, and just as he was in his hut about to shut the window, he caught sight of Lucy and Steve walking in his direction. “Hi Pete! good night.” “”Good night” he replied, and then, to his surprise, They unlocked to door of the hut next to his, and went in.

They were in the room next to his. He didn’t immediately realize what this might mean, but the realization did come soon enough.

He closed the blinds, and lay down to sleep, but couldn’t. His bed was right next to the wall between the two rooms, which compared to the thickly insulated outer walls was paper thin, and through which he could hear various muffled laughs and voices, over the sound of songs playing on a laptop or a phone. After a while he heard the door open and the sound of footsteps in the hall and bathroom, of water running etc. He realized they would soon be going to sleep. He heard footsteps once more, the bedroom door closing, the light switch turn off, and then a few muffled creaks, and realized they were in bed. His heart clenched and gathered pace as he listened intently, pretending to sleep. He lay in the dark for what seemed hours, his eyes closed trying to capture any vestige of sound in the dead silence.

There was no sound to be heard, other than the slightest murmur of the forest outside.

And then, he heard something, at first not making out what it was, a strange repetitive noise, starting quietly at first, then getting louder.

He strained his ears to try and recognize it, and then… he heard another sound. A sound he immediately recognized. From the other side of the wall, cutting sharply through the silence, there came a muffled moan. His heart started pounding, his breath became shallow, and… his cock began to grow. A moan of pleasure had just come through the wall. His mind was racing. The repetitive sound grew louder and then he realized what it was… the sound of fingers inside a cunt.

Her cunt. Her soft, wet, horny cunt. A cunt he intimately knew, a cunt he hadn’t been in for years, and, a cunt he’d never be in again. The cunt of his fantasies, the cunt he imagined himself eagerly taking in the sweet scent of again before burying his face, lapping like a hog at a trough. The cunt his desperate stiff little cock would often dream of ramming into again, to lovingly pound, to fuck silly. The one he would love to stick his fingers in, and couldn’t, while someone else just had. This cunt wanted things done to it. And was having things done to it, but not by him.

The reality of it filled him with unbearable jealousy. He turned beet red. There she was, lost to pleasure, as if he wasn’t even there, something to just be ignored, like the sounds of the forest outside. But his little cock was too overcome with arousal to retain its dignity, it was hard and pulsing. And what was worse, he hadn’t even noticed that it was now in his hand, being jerked up and down, the sheets thrown back, almost in time with the wet sloppy sounds of the cunt next door. And when he did realize this, as disgusted as he was, he couldn’t stop.

The moaning stopped, and for a moment he could hear the sound of his pounding heart. Then there were sounds of movement behind the wall, and shortly after, a sound not that dissimilar to the previous one. He soon recognized what it was… the recipient of pleasure was no longer a cunt, but a cock, and she was sucking it. Sounds of a tightly clasped mouth working it’s way up and down with slurps and licks and the occasional “pop” as the mouth released it’s hold for air, and of a hand moving in unison. The mouth that refused his little cock pleasure. The mouth it hadn’t been in for well over a year. It had been nowhere for a over a year in fact, with the exception of his own hand, quite often accompanied by fantasies, and more shamefully even – photos of that cunt next door, weeping little tears of precum whilst desperately wishing it could be in any of her wet holes, or even, by now, her hand.

The thought of this was unbearable, the burning humiliation of it. How could they? How could she? He shook with resentment, but the arousal he felt was stronger, far stronger that anything he had ever experienced. His hand wanked his frustrated cock more vigorously, as if the only way of releasing the pent up rage.

The sounds stopped again, and a terrible silence took over.

Terrible, because he suspected what would come next. His hand stopped, he seemed frozen in time. Perhaps it was a dream? A nightmare? There seemed to be a perfect silence.

A perfect silence which was broken by a moan.

Not a moan like before, but a different moan. A short, but deep moan. A moan of a cunt being entered. A moan his cock would have never managed to conjure up.

For another short moment, a silence. And then three quick sounds, one roughly after the other. A creak, and slap, and another moan. A creak of the bed, a slap of skin on skin, and a moan of pleasure. Creak, slap, moan. Creak. Slap. Moan. Peter’s hand had started again now. He was wanking himself frantically, his cock desperate for this pathetic drop of relief. Creak, Slap, Moan, and now another moan joining it.

The moan of Steve, the moan of a hard throbbing cock pushing it’s way into the eagerly stretching cunt, It’s engorged head rubbing tightly against the soft flesh, the sensitive nerve endings writhing in bliss as they lovingly feasted on the rough texture, burying itself to the hilt, then stopping a second to savour the sensations of being fully engulfed, then making it’s way back, and then in again. In and out. faster and faster, The hanging balls bellow smacking against the outside.

Peter’s cock burned red with envy and desire that his frantic tugging could barely satisfy. Imagine how it must feel. Before tonight his poor cock could barely remember what being inside a cunt felt like anymore, it hadn’t been in one for so long, but the now memory of it now came vividly and painfully back.

Steven pounded her for hat seemed like hours. The sounds became wetter, The moans became louder, and then came one which was greater than any, a deep hoarse moan, gathering in intensity, turning to a cry. The cunt was cumming, cumming all over Steve’s cock, riding a euphoric wave of pleasure as it contracted and convulsed.

Peter’s heart jumped.

It was too much for him, he was going to spurt. Soon his little cock would squirt it’s contents all over himself and the bed.

But before that something else happened. Steve’s cock was reaching it’s own climax, the balls tightening, the muscles contracting, the cum traveling up to the tip, soon to be free, the feeling of bliss starting to peak. It buried itself balls deep with a squelch. It was unmistakably inside. And then, with a heavy moan escaping Steve’s lips, it erupted, spraying it’s load into her cunt, filling it with his sticky white cum, lovingly lathering it’s insides, marking it as it’s own.

Peter’s humiliation had reached it’s peak. He realized he was shedding tears.

Peter’s lonely cock, clasped only in his own hand let out showers of cum into nothing but air, spraying all over him, covering him with a sticky mess, as if to scorn him.

Peter lay in the darkness, his head spinning, his body shaking, his eyes filled with tears. All over he was splattered with cum. A deep, burning shame came over him. He needed to clean up the mess, clean up the mess, and forget this ever happened.

After he thought they might be sleeping, his mind restlessly replaying the events over and over, he got out of bed as quietly as he could, and slowly opening his door, he entered the hallway and bathroom. He was careful to lock the door.

Leaving the light turned off, he put the water on at a slight drizzle, and, trying hard to concentrate he methodically washed his body with soap and a towel from his cock upwards. When he had finished, he hung his towel over his shoulder, pulled up his boxer shorts, and turned off the water. He unlocked the door and stepped out into the hall.

He turned in the direction of the door to his room when he heard a sound behind him, and turned back, just in time to see a door close, before being blinded by the light in the hallway. “Oh! Sorry.” said Lucy.

Peter froze, and then moved a step back out of her way as she turned into the bathroom door. And then, just as she was about to enter it, she stopped, looking at him intently, but not meeting his eye.

Her hair was messy and ruffled. Her face looked both tired and soothed.

And at that moment Peter thought he could smell the faint scent of sex entering his nostrils. Of sweat and cunt and cum coming together.

Peter’s heart jumped.

Lucy’s eyes met his.

And the she did something that would haunt him forever.

She lifted up her hand to his face, and very gently brushed a dried blob of cum from his cheek. Still gazing at him, her lips formed a small smile, a smile halfway between pity and contempt.

And then she took a step into the bathroom, and closed the door.

The End.