My Girlfriend Services Her Team Captain [MF] (Long)

*Author’s note: This story isn’t about cuckolding per se, but it is something that set me on that path. There’s not a lot of sex in this story, despite how long it is. I suspect you’ll only find this story sexy if you appreciate the twisted erotic nature of cuckolding and cheating.*

Synopsis: My girlfriend and I go to separate universities. She meets a guy who doesn’t quite have her best interests in mind, yet he excites her and pushes her boundaries, much to my dismay.

## 1

When I was in college I dated my high school sweetheart Chelsea the entire four years. Chelsea (Chels for short) had a very religious upbringing, attended Catholic high school, and then eventually a predominant Irish Catholic university in the midwest. Because of this upbringing, she vowed to save sex until marriage. This included oral sex, and even things like handjobs (at first anyway).

To make matters worse, we had a long distance relationship most of the time; I went to school 12 hours away from her, so 9 months out of the year Chelsea was in another timezone. Despite this, we still managed to talk for hours over Skype every day. In some ways, that she was abstaining from sex for now made things a little easier; It’s not like I was actually missing out on anything I would be getting in person.

Most 18 year old guys wouldn’t wait around like that, but Chels was by far the hottest girl I knew, and she was into me. She was pretty tall for a girl at 5’7″ 120 lbs, with long brown hair that stretched to her lower back, deep brown eyes, high cheekbones and a strong jaw line, full pouty lips, a sexy hourglass figure, and full, C-cup breasts. Her celebrity doppelganger is Angelina Jolie, to the point that she regularly went as Tomb Raider or some other Jolie character for Halloween. She was obsessed with the movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith, especially the scene where her and Brad Pitt try to kill each other and end up fucking instead. So I went with it, hoping maybe she’d change her mind about sex in due course. I figured once she was away from her parents, she would loosen up and forget that religious shame. Someone was going to be her first and if I waited long enough it would be me. Turns out I was half right.

The transition from an in-person high school relationship to a virtually virtual college relationship had its growing pains. The first couple weeks of freshman year, she started going to a lot of parties, staying out late, and she started drinking. She was acting like a completely different girl. I attribute it to her fencing team, which was coed and comprised mostly of upperclassmen who weren’t as pious as my little innocent girlfriend. Yes, even at Catholic University the students are drunk sluts. They’re just hypocrites about it. It quickly became a normal thing for Chels to be out every Friday and Saturday night with a couple of her teammates, a regular group of two other girls and four guys with whom she was becoming good friends.

Anyway, it wasn’t long before Chels called me after one particularly wild night. She was sobbing, and confessed to letting some random guy (not one of her friends, some senior she met at a party) finger her to orgasm in her dorm room. Chelsea was super drunk and claimed she didn’t want to do it, but what she really meant was she didn’t initiate. She actually went along willingly and enthusiastically. She met him at some house party off campus, then after a night of drunken grinding and groping on the dance floor, they ended up back in her dorm where he fingered her, and then he left after she came and passed out. But this wasn’t just a light clit tickle. No, this guy fucked my dripping wet girlfriend of two years with two of his fat, meaty fingers (one for each year I guess) and sucked on her nipple, until she came humping his palm, on her bed, next to the stuffed bears I’d gotten her for Valentine’s day. I’d never even seen her fully topless at this point.

It goes without saying that Chelsea was very apologetic. And like the good Catholic girl she is, she showed a lot of guilt and contrition over the issue. She promised never to do it again, and she would make it up to me. At least she was honest, right? Score one for a healthy relationship? Of course making things right didn’t mean leveling the playing field. I wouldn’t now be getting to finger her. As Chelsea explained to me, it was a one time mistake and she got carried away because of alcohol. She didn’t want to cheapen our first time by engaging in such lurid behavior before marriage. Congratulations random house party dude. You win.

## 2

But we put that behind us. Two years later, our junior year in college, Chels and I were stronger than ever. We had progressed a little in our sex life — now I was at the point where she let me finger her like the rano guy did, while she would give me handjobs. We still abstained from any form of penetrative sex, including oral and anal. Unfortunately, we were still long distance, but we had started to dabble in the fine art of talking dirty and masturbating with each other over the phone (which is actually a lot of fun if you know what you’re doing).

It was that semester that a new guy Jeff enrolled at Chelsea’s school as a freshman. Jeff was in ROTC and a fencer, which is how Chelsea met him. I remember the first time I heard about him. Chelsea did this thing where she would talk about someone, but she’ll go so far out of her way to avoid using any gender specific pronouns, so as not to give away the fact that she was interacting with a guy. She called me up one day after class, and we started talking about our days. Eventually Chelsea got to a story about how she was fencing with her “friend”. Apparently it was a really good match and she kept going on and on about how good her “friend” id and how her “friend” is trying out for the Olympics, and she’s so thankful to meet someone as impressive as her “friend” to learn from. She’s just gushing effusively about her new “friend” and I clearly am getting the idea that she’s purposefully hiding the fact this new friend is a dude, and she called up her so-called boyfriend (of now 4 years) to fawn over him.

Anyway, I let it slide and didn’t hear much more about him for a while. I didn’t even know his name. But eventually I figured it out when he started popping up on her Facebook feed and her Instagram. He’d like posts, or comment on photos. He’d always be holding her waist or have his hand on her lower back in pictures, or kissing her cheek playfully (in a silly way, the kind you would look like a crazy jealous person for getting angry over). Looking back I wasn’t nearly jealous enough about this. This guy was weaseling his way in with Chelsea, it was plainly obvious. Here was this freshman, 2 years younger than my girlfriend and me, but she was apparently drawn to his skill as an olympic-level fencer (and the requisite physique to go with that I presume).

—

At the end of our Junior year, Chelsea’s fencing team had a formal, as they do every year. The past two years I made the 12 hour journey to her campus to be her date, but this year I couldn’t go due to a big exam that was the same day. Of course, Chelsea was disappointed, but understood. A few days later though, she called me, and sheepishly asked me if she could take someone else to the formal. Of course, all my defenses and alarms started going off as I braced for what I knew was coming. She proceeded to tell me Jeff asked her to the dance, and she wanted to know if I would let her go with him. I felt so betrayed and cast aside at this request; the previous two years we had a very romantic and intimate time at this dance. And now I can’t go and she just moves to replicate the experience with another guy? Not just another guy, but this cocky freshman who she just met the previous semester? I protested and told her I didn’t think it was a good idea, but she had a way of turning things around on me and making me feel like I was holding her back if I didn’t. So she was asking me, but she was really telling me. We got into a huge fight over it, and it felt like maybe we would break up at that point.

So Chelsea goes to the dance with Jeff anyway. This was absolute torture for me. I turned into an obsessed internet stalker, looking at pictures of them together on Chelsea’s own FB feed, trying to spot them in the background of friends’ albums. I completely neglected the test I was supposed to be studying for, and instead just tracked her whereabouts obsessively over the evening. She dressed in a hot clingy red dress with shoulders and ample cleavage exposed, he looked dashing and dapper in Navy formal wear. They looked like a hot couple, like it made sense they would go to the dance together. They started the evening with a pregame at a friend’s dorm, then headed over to the venue for dancing and dinner, then hit up an off-campus after party thrown at a house owned by a bunch of guys on the fencing team.

I spotted Chelsea and Jeff grinding hard on each other in several pictures posted by their friends, but nothing more than that. That didn’t stop my imagination though! Did she let him grope her and make out with her on the dance floor? Did she invite him back to her dorm, and let him finger fuck her like she did that other guy? Would she let him do more? I mean, that other guy was a rando, but she obviously has been crushing on this Jeff asshole hard for the better part of a year. Would she stop herself? Or a more apt question: would she want to?

Chelsea eventually called me after the dance. Not the day after, nor after the weekend. I didn’t hear from her until Wednesday, despite many texts and unreturned calls from me, leaving me in a sense of constant anguish. I recall my heart constantly racing during this time, for days. I couldn’t calm down, as I thought about all the things they were doing together.

When Chelsea finally called my cell, I picked up to hear her sobbing. It felt like deja vu. Oh no, what had she done? My greatest fears were coming true. She confessed: she ended the night making out with Jeff in an elevator on the way to her hotel suite, but they didn’t do anything else she swears. Now, you may be thinking “fool me once…”, and yeah, shame on me, but I did forgive her. Here’s the thing: once you’ve already forgiven such a thing and life carries on, it’s easy to forgive it again. So I just told her I was upset with her, but that I would forgive her, and we could put this episode behind us. And with that, I bottled my own emotional anguish up, and pushed it deep deep down.

## 3

Time went on and things got back to normal for us. Soon our Junior year was over and we both returned to our hometown for the summer, over which time we repaired and nurtured our relationship in person. For those of you who eschew long distance relationships, let me tell you this period of reunification after a long separation is euphoric. It brings back all that new relationship energy even if you’ve been together for years, as Chelsea and I had at this point. But this bliss only lasted a few short months, as we would return to our distance campuses in August. And as they say, absence makes the heart go yonder (that’s how it goes, right?).

Senior year was mostly a blur for us. Chels and I both loaded up our courses, and we spent most of the year studying and going to classes. Soon enough, Chels’ annual spring formal came around, so I made the journey to her campus for the weekend. I planned on spending 3 nights there, getting there in the early morning, and hanging out with Chels for a few days until the formal. The biggest logistical problem was where I would sleep. As a broke college kid, I couldn’t afford a hotel, and there was a strict “no boys allowed” policy in her dorm. She was fine with me sleeping in her room during the day, but had too much anxiety about me being spotted after dark. So Chels arranged for me to sleep in her roommate’s boyfriend’s room down the hall.

I arrived in the morning as planned, around 5:00 am and texted her to come down and let me into her dorm. The campus was still and silent and cold in the early morning. She met me at door and beckoned me inside. We embraced and kissed and got reacquainted with each other. We hadn’t seen each other in person since Christmas at this point (about 5 months). I still remember how good she smelled that day, like Sweat Pea lotion from Bath and Body Works. My girlfriend and I snuck up to her room, tiptoed past her sleeping roommate Elsa, and crawled into her bed on the other side of the room. After traveling for over 16 hours straight, I fell asleep hard.

—

I woke up to an empty bed, an empty dorm, and a note on the night stand from Chelsea.

“Can’t believe you’re here, I missed you so much. Meet me for lunch after class <3 – Chels”

It was 10:30 am, so I put on some fresh if rather wrinkled clothes from my luggage, and headed out to meet Chels for lunch. But I wasn’t prepared for what I saw on the way over there, which was Chelsea and Jeff interacting in person for the first time. I spotted them as I was nearing the campus cafeteria. They were outside talking next to the entrance. Chelsea was leaning against wall, one leg bent with foot flat behind her, the other leg outstretched toward Jeff, her foot almost touching his. With both hands, she was holding one of her textbooks in front of her pelvis, which had the effect of squeezing together and accentuating her cleavage for Jeff. He obviously had a good view, as he was about 6’3″, a good 8 inches taller than Chelsea. Her head was tilted back, as she was looking up at him, smiling and giggling. All the signs of attraction were there – she’d laugh when he told a joke and brush his arm, she’d brush her hair aside giggle and look away when he laid on the charm and compliments. Her lips were slightly parted, her cheeks with flush and rosy.

Watching this scene boiled my blood. I knew this guy was trying to get with my girlfriend, and she had already made out with him once before. I didn’t want to go over there, but she was waiting for me, and I doubt he was going anywhere. It was likely that she’d just eat with him if I didn’t act quickly, so I swallowed my pride and approached them.

Chelsea recognized me as I got closer, and motioned to Jeff. He looked up and, I can only imagine, was sizing me up. This was not a friendly encounter. This felt like entering the lion’s den.

“Casey! Come meet my friend Jeff” she lit up, calling to me from across the quad. She was super excited, and didn’t seem at all to comprehend the fact that she was calling me over to meet a guy with whom she’s crossed several emotional and physical boundaries, and how that might play in the power dynamic of this interaction. Obviously Jeff *knew* Chels had a boyfriend and *knew* despite that she made out with him willingly. But Chelsea didn’t think about it like that, She just wanted me to meet her “friend.”

Jeff just smirked and caught me off guard when he shook my hand with a much-too-firm grip, a clear act of dominance. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey” I attempted to match his grip, but I don’t think it phased him at all.

“I’ve heard a lot about you from Chels. So cool you’re taking her to the dance this year for me. We had a lot of fun last year” that smug prick. Hearing this guy not only use my girlfriend’s nickname, *my* name for her, but in the same breath reference the night they made out together and making it seem like *I* was the one stepping in for *him*. I almost punched him right there. But Jeff excused himself quickly when he saw his friends enter the cafeteria. He hustled over to them, whispered something to them, and they all turned and looked right at me. I don’t know what they said, but there were a couple high fives between them and they went in for lunch.

Chels and I had a great day together. She was done her classes for the day, so we spent our afternoon exploring her campus and the nearby college town — going in stores, trying on clothes, getting drinks — just a normal fun day. But, I was also hinting to her that I’d like to spend some with her alone under the covers. She promised she’d take care of me later that evening, but only if Elsa wasn’t around. Of course, we get back to her dorm around 8:00, and Elsa is in there with her boyfriend, Aaron, hanging out. Cockblocked. But Elsa was a cool, super hot foreign exchange student from Sweden, so I enjoyed hanging out with her and getting to know her better. 10:00 rolled around, and it was time for the guys to depart. So I said kissed Chels goodnight and followed Aaron to his room for the night.

Around 1:30 am I woke up needing to go to the bathroom. I tried to wait it out, but it was too much to bear. So I tip toed out of Aaron’s room, trying not to wake him and his roommate. This dorm was basically arranged as two wings connected to a common room in the middle, where all the bathrooms were. I padded down the hall and was about to head into the restroom, when I saw Elsa sitting in the common area, reading a book. She looked up at me as I drew near, so I had to engage her in conversation at this point.

“Hey, can’t sleep?” I asked her. She looked a little agitated to see me, as she continually looked over her shoulder back toward her dorm room.

“Uh… yeah something like that.”

“Is Chelsea up too?”

“Uh… No, she’s, uh, sleeping” Again she looked back toward her room. She was keeping her answers very short, which I just chalked up to the fact that she didn’t know me well and probably just wanted to get back to her book.

“Oh, well, um, goodnight I guess.” I turned and went to the bathroom. When I left, I noticed Elsa was gone from the common area. I just assumed she went back into her room.

## 4

The next day I met Chels at her dorm room as soon as the curfew was lifted. We had breakfast and went for a walk, holding hands as we strolled around campus. Soon enough, though, our morning stroll was interrupted by a raucous volleyball game going on in the quad. Of course, Jeff was involved and probably the loudest one of the group. He was in his element: competition. He had his bros on his team, and they were reveling in conquering the opposing force. It was an obscene display of male exuberance and I wanted nothing to do with it. Chelsea, on the other hand, seemed drawn to the group. I was talking to her, but Chelsea wasn’t listening at all. Her eyes were fixed to the group, with her head rotating as we walked so she wouldn’t lose focus. She didn’t realize it, but her mouth was parted, and her cheeks were a little flush. Our aimless stroll suddenly was gravitating directly toward this spectacle.

I almost want to skip over this part, because it’s probably the most I’ve been embarrassed in my life. But I need to recount it, or else the rest of the story doesn’t have the right punch to it. Somehow, I got roped into playing. I couldn’t not, after seeing how turned on Chelsea was watching these guys. We would have just stayed and watched while I sat next to her practically cumming in her panties watching these dudes hit a ball back and forth. I don’t get it.

Anyway, it was decided that I’d rotate in on Jeff’s team. Even though I was technically on his team, Jeff was now apparently competing against me. He played very aggressively, trying to spike any ball that came in my direction, almost plowing me over in the process. He had a good 30 pounds on me, so he seemed to relish just pushing me out of the way whenever he could. However, I’m actually pretty good at volley ball, despite the size difference. When it was finally time for me to serve, I had a good run, scoring 8 points on the other side. One after another, I was racking up points, as the other team failed to return my serves. This seemed to irritate Jeff, as his boys were coming over to liking me now that I was carrying their team.

Eventually, Jeff lost a volley and one of his friends audibly chewed him out for missing what was a easy layup. So now you have a super competitive alpha male with a bruised ego. That’s a recipe for disaster. Jeff must have had something to prove, because the next volley coming my way he plowed into me hard, elbowing me in the nose and shoving me to the ground to get to the ball. We had been playing in basically a pit of mud with rocks and stones buried throughout, one of which embedded itself into my knee as I landed directly on its razor edge. So, there I was covered in mud, blood all over my face, blood all over my leg and clothes, and this group of psychopathic hyenas were just laughing around my defeated carcass. No one offered to help me up, no one asked if I was okay. I was just an outsider who was rightfully beaten.

Chelsea saw this and leapt over to help me. She gave Jeff a pointed, cold scowl and helped me up. I got mud and blood all over her, and we limped off together away from a chorus of jeers and taunts, toward an academic building to find a bathroom. She followed me into the men’s room, and turned on a facet, wetting some paper towels. This is actually the last good memory I have of Chelsea, as she carefully cleaned my nose and face in silence, trying not to hurt me as she cleaned me wounds. I was ready to just burst into tears at that point. I was ostensibly a grown man, or at least a young adult. And I felt like a toddler being cleaned by his mother after a bully hit him on the playground. I was absolutely mortified.

“I’m, sorry about that.” Chelsea eventually broke the silence in the bathroom, whispering to avoid her voice echoing too loudly.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’m sure Jeff didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t defend him” I abruptly cut her off. “Your boyfriend out there basically just assaulted me.”

“You’re my boyfriend”

“Please, I see the way you look at him. I’m not blind.”

“Baby, you’re the only one for me, you know that. Jeff and I are just friends.” I had to stop myself from audibly scoffing at that last phrase. “Just friends” When in the history of the world have self proclaimed “just friends” turned out to actually be such?

“You’ve already made out with each other. There’s clearly tension you need to acknowledge.”

“I told you a million times I’m sorry for that. What do I need to do to convince you?” Chelsea stopped washing me and looked down, ashamed. I felt bad for being hard on her. After all, I told her I forgave her, so it’s not fair for me to then be angry about it.

“I know, I know, I’m just in pain, that’s all. OW!” Chelsea squatted down to start cleaning my wounded knee.

“Sorry. Baby, Jeff is just really competitive. I’m sure he didn’t mean to-”

“Jesus, just stop defending him!” I cut her off again.

“Sorry!” Chelsea relented as I snapped at her. Suddenly though she looked up at me with a smirk. “You know, I bet I know how to make you feel better. Move back into that stall.”

I recognized her playful tone and seductive look as an invitation to get frisky, and Chels wanted to do it in the men’s bathroom of all places. I backed myself into a stall and pulled her in with me, closing the door behind her. Despite the remaining mud still on me, we started making out hard. I pressed into her against the stall, pushing my hardening cock into her pelvis. Then Chels took charge and guided me onto the toilet, unzipping my pants and tugging them down in the process. I had been so busy traveling by this point, it had been days since I had the privacy to work one out, so right away I was practically ready to bust right. Chelsea spit on her hand and then my cock head, and then massaged her saliva into my dick, making it nice and slippery. She took a firm grip of it and started pumping with a tight fist while I stretched out on the toilet. I was getting close to release, when suddenly someone came into the bathroom and started peeing in a urinal. This spooked Chelsea and she froze in place, dick glistening in her fist. We waited for him to leave, but by then the mood had passed. Chelsea was no longer interested in finishing me, as she was too worried about getting caught. So, we cleaned up the remaining mud as best we could, and went on our way. When we left, the volleyball game had disbanded. I noticed that Chelsea made a point to look around for Jeff and made a little disappointed frown when she didn’t see him.

—

Later that night, Chels, Elsa, Aaron and I met up in the girls’ dorm room, as we did the night before. The topic of the volley ball game didn’t really come up, but they were curious why my face was all busted. I just made up some excuse and tried to move to a new topic. Again, 10:00 rolled around and we retired to our respective rooms. I stayed up for another couple hours getting to know Aaron, and then around midnight went out to the bathrooms to brush my teeth and wash up for bed. Just as the night before, there was Elsa in the common area, reading a book.

“Can’t sleep again?” I asked Elsa. She looked up from her book when she heard me, and then immediately glanced toward her dorm room door.

“Hey, yeah, I guess not.” Again, with this shifty behavior. I decided it was time for some interrogation. I sat down with her and we chatted about her life, about how she met Aaron and their relationship. During our conversation, she would periodically glance over to her dorm. I could tell she was agitated and getting a little impatient, as if she wanted to end the conversation.

“I’m sorry, you’re probably pretty tired, did you want to go back to your room?”

“No, I’m sorry, I like talking to you, you’re really nice.”

“It’s just I noticed you keep looking toward your door. I figured you wanted to leave.”

“It’s not that, it’s just… I’m sorry I can’t” and with that she got up and left in a hurry, retreating into the girl’s bathroom. Shit, what did I say? I was perplexed as I headed back to Aaron’s room, and debated whether to tell him about the strange encounter with his girlfriend. Did she think I was trying to hit on her? She was European after all, maybe I didn’t understand some cultural difference. Was she not allowed to talk to men without her boyfriend? I had no idea.

## 5

I started Day 3 of my visit as an emotional wreck. I was still reeling from the volley ball encounter, my girlfriend’s roommate was giving me confusing vibes, and to top it all off I was sexually frustrated and pent up after 3 days being around my smoking hot girlfriend (who I hadn’t seen in 5 months) and not finding time for a single release yet. But it was the day of the formal dance, so I was looking forward to that, and especially after, when Chelsea and I would certainly have some time for that aforementioned release. Chelsea and Elsa spent the day together, getting their hair and nails done, getting their legs waxed, and picking up their dresses from the cleaners. I hung around with Aaron, playing video games with his roommate until it was time to get ready. Then we threw on suits and left for the venue, where we would meet our dates.

When we pulled up to the venue, it wasn’t hard to pick Chelsea out of the crowd waiting to get into the banquet hall. She was a vision that night, a vixen in full-length red dress, a throwback to the one from last year, but exposing her bare back this time. Her hair was done up, twisted into a crown of braids with a million bobby pins. Her eyes were done in a smoky shadow, and her lips were full red and plump. With her heels on, she was almost as tall as me. She and Elsa were waiting together, and we all went in as a unit.

We danced as a group most of the night, but Elsa and Chelsea did a fair amount of dancing themselves. At one point, after dinner had been served, Elsa and Chels were out on the floor while Aaron and I held back and watched. Chels left her purse on the table, and her phone was spilling out a bit, face up. I noticed it lit up as a text came in. Of course, it was from Jeff. I tried to see what it said, but I didn’t want Aaron to know I was snooping on my girlfriend’s phone. So I made a quick distraction and casually snatched it, then headed out to the bathroom before anyone noticed. Once in the privacy of a stall, I glanced at the newest messages.

9:43 – wya?

9:43 – just got here

9:45 – u with your “bf”? ?

9:46 – bet he can’t top last year

9:46 – want a repeat? lol ??

He was really blowing up her phone. What the hell did he mean “top last year?” What the hell happened that needs topping? I went to scroll back in her history to get more context, but these were the only messages between them. You mean to tell me they’re not texting constantly? Nice try, obviously she’s been deleting their conversations. Now in a jealous fugue state, I put on my digital sleuthing hat and tried to find evidence of what I knew to be true, but wasn’t yet ready to fully confront.

And boy, did I find proof. It wasn’t even that hard. I just opened up the camera app and scrolled through the last several pictures in her picture roll. Nothing. Nothing. Next. Next. Nothing. STOP. What. The. Fuck.

I couldn’t make sense of the image in front of my eyes. There was my girlfriend, completely topless. No shirt. No bra. One arm outstretched, holding her phone, pointing it at her mirror. The other hand was squeezing her bare tits together, covering both of her nipples at once. Across her heaving breasts she scrawled the words “LUV U” with lipstick, one word per tit. She even took care to write it backwards, so the camera would pick them up the correct way in the mirror.

I had never seen this picture before. It was never sent to me, that’s for sure. I looked at the date, frantically. Two weeks ago. What was I doing then? What were we talking about then? I racked my brain: nothing. Nothing was going on. We were having completely banal conversations and saying “I love you” to each other every night during this period. Meanwhile, she’s taking pictures on her phone of her tits and sending them to God knows who…

Oh, but I did know who. Jeff. Of course, this picture was for that fucking douche bag. I kept scrolling through the photos. After the original one that gave me pause followed several other outtakes. Various magnifications and angles on her tits. Some were close, filling the entire frame with those obscene words. Some were extended as far as she could, always hiding her face but making sure to cast just the right shadows to accentuate her chest. Shot after shot after shot of her trying to get just the right picture, just the right lighting to maximize Jeff’s reaction. I looked at the timestamps of the first and last pictures in this set, and figured she spent a good half hour taking pictures of her tits, trying to get the right one just for Jeff.

And then I got to the next picture. Oh man, that next picture, that was the real kick in the gut. The original one where my girlfriend of four years was lewdly professing her adulterous feelings for another man was nothing compared to the next picture, which was of Jeff. Apparently, Chelsea’s photo shoot was kicked off upon the receipt of a picture of Jeff and his massive engorged cock. He was fully shaven, and he was holding his, I would estimate, 9″ and thick shaft with his right hand in his bathroom mirror. He was shirtless, and obviously tried to get as much of a pump going as possible before taking the picture, to accentuate his abs, biceps, and cut chest. Of *course* my girlfriend was sending this cocky stud topless pictures. He was athletic, strong, masculine, and dominant — traits completely missing in my relationship with Chelsea. She met me first and took what I gave her without knowing what she really wanted. Now, she met someone very unlike me, and my greatest worry was that now she was falling for him. Clearly enough she was at least in “luv” with him.

So, there I was, in a bathroom stall, obsessing over my girlfriend’s transgressions, trying to prevent my entire world from dropping out from under me. Given the depths of this betrayal, I had to wonder exactly how much was she keeping from me? Did they only make out last year? They probably went all the way. Did they laugh about me behind my back? Did they joke together about how completely oblivious and gullible I am, as they fucked in their dorm together? How many times have they done it since then?

My head was spinning as I worked myself into a silent, panicked frenzy, when suddenly I felt a calm. A resolution set over me. Fuck. This. I was done. Finished! At one point we thought we were getting married. But Chelsea found something new, something that fit her better. Maybe I needed the same. I defiantly dropped her phone in the toilet, pissed on it, flushed, and left the bathroom. I looked briefly around for Chelsea, because I didn’t want to run into her. I wanted to just get out of there, get on a bus, and ghost my duplicitous girlfriend of 4 years. When it looked like the coast was clear, I snuck around the dance floor to a side hall, and followed the corridor towards the side exit.

(finale in comments)

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/8oo8kr/my_girlfriend_services_her_team_captain_mf_long