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Cuckold Cosplay 1.3
🕑 Added 2026-01-04 02:23:02 +0000 UTCLater, he got the idea they were teasing him. Like it had been an act. Because no sooner had that same-sex preening begun than it was over.
Thora was sexual. More sexual than any girl he'd ever been with. He was a nerd. But he was a business nerd. The ladies he'd attracted in college were of the same veneer. Efficient, straightforward, mechanical. Thora was a nerd too, but not of the same ilk. She was of a fun-based brand. An exploratory one. Libertine, if you will. He'd never had sex like sex with Thora before. So not only did he have a devastatingly gorgeous sleeper beauty with an incredible body, she'd taught him so much in bed. She'd taught him nothing was off limits. She'd showed him she'd do anything he asked.
When Jax had stroked Thora's arm in a warm and sensual admiring manner, he was sure she was going to show him how she would have lesbian sex just for him to watch. But that would have taken convincing Jax and maybe Jax hadn't gone for it. Whatever they were up to, he sensed there was indeed some sort of game afoot.
The curiosity burned in his belly and an ache began right in that space under his scrotum. He wouldn't take the bait if she tried it again. Though that was a bit of a bold statement made when he wasn't under duress.
Now they were in the sitting room with the big TV, the sun losing its maximum heat, and everyone enjoying the air conditioning. The game was on, and while he didn't follow baseball this one had his clients talking so he put it up on the screen. The Texas Rangers hosting the Houston Astros, sun still high over the ballpark, the pace deliberate. Fifth inning, tied 3–3, a runner on first and one out, the pitcher sweating through his cap.
Greg was sunk into the deep cushions of his leather chair. Across the room, Thora and Jax sprawled on the couch, legs tangled. Their eyes flicked between their phones and each other, screens illuminating their faces like soft lanterns in the shaded room, the curtains drawn. They passed their devices back and forth, laughing occasionally, checking out costume designs and anime clips and who knew what else.
“Look at this one,” Thora murmured, showing her phone to Jax.
Jax leaned in, eyebrows raising. “I swear, those boobs are bigger every year."
Thora grinned, poking Jax in the side. “It’s just the cut of her bustier. Cute, right?”
Jax feigned deep contemplation, lips pursed. “More sex-aggro than cute, but yeah—let’s go with cute.”
They both chuckled, then returned to their own screens. Greg watched them for a moment, then tried returning his attention to the game.
They switched gears, diving into videos of makeup tutorials and impressive transformations, chattering with each other on the techniques they each liked.
“See how she blends here? I have to try that,” Thora said.
Jax nodded, fingers ghosting across her own cheekbone in imitation. "Once I’m done with your armor, we should try it out" she said.
Thora feigned horror. “I’ll end up looking like a raccoon.”
“Nah, Jax said. "Possibly a panda.”
They engaged in a socked kicking fight that they both found hilarious. He returned his attention to the game. Soon, they grew quiet again. But there was no more clicking of nails on phone screens. He sensed there'd been a suspicious shift in focus. He turned to see both of them facing his direction. “What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” Thora said and shrugged a shoulder as if she was bored, but an amused glint sparked in her eyes.
Greg tilted his head, waiting for her to just say it. Neither of them said anything and Jax's attention returned to her phone. “What’s up, really?”
Thora shrugged, indifferent, creating anticipation. Baiting him. He couldn't help himself.
“Seriously, what were you going to say?”
Jax leaned back, chuckling softly, eyes down on her screen. “You might as well ask him.”
Thora grinned slyly. “I was just thinking about a gift I could give you.”
Greg raised a brow. “Gift? What are you talking about?”
“You know,” she said, her tone lightly conspiratorial. “The stuff we talked about.”
Loose memories scooted around and he frowned. “What did we talk about?”
Thora studied him, expectant. The seconds stretched, impatient and bothersome. His brows knit together, comprehension slippery.
Jax, disappointed, said, “Really, Greg?”
"Bedroom talk," Thora said.
Warmth bloomed across his skin. “I, uh—” The words tripped as past intimacies flickered briefly—they arrived with dread. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A wry smile winched Thora's pretty features. “Alrighty then,” she said, “but you do know what I'm talking about.”
Greg returned his eyes to the game. Geez. Their bedroom talk could get really dirty. And humiliating.
His fingers tightened on the armrests as Thora leaned toward Jax, her lips brushing the shell of her friend’s ear. The words were too quiet to catch, but the shape of the two girls—intimate, conspiratorial—sent a scary shiver down his spine. Jax’s eyebrows lifted. A slow and menacing smirk spread across her face.
Greg's stomach twisted. What the hell is she telling her? He’d never been with anyone like Thora before. Not even close. She had a way of peeling back layers he didn’t know he had, coaxing things out of him—things he’d never said to anyone. Things he liked saying—in the dark, when it was just the two of them. Things that made his face burn now, just thinking about them.
Jax cackled, then covered her mouth with a hand. Thora grinned, nudging her shoulder, and then they were both giggling—soft, knowing, feminine laughter. The kind that made his skin feel way too tight.
He shifted in his seat, the leather creaking under his butt and sounding like a fart.
Thora glanced at him, eyes bright with amusement. “You’re being weird.”
“I’m not,” he said automatically. "And that was the chair."
Jax wiped at her eyes, still chuckling. “Why are you being weird, BBG? And please stop farting.”
The way they looked at him—like they shared a secret he wasn’t privy to—made his pulse thud in his throat. He forced a laugh, but it came out thin, strained, and fake.
Thora tilted her head, studying him. “You sure you don’t know what we’re talking about?”
His jaw clenched. “I don’t.”
Another round of laughter from them, softer this time, like they were letting him in on the joke—but not really.
He exhaled through his nose and concentrated back on the TV, the game’s colors blurring together.
Thora whispered. "Take it out, Greg."
His fingers twitched against the armrest. The words hit like a spark to dry kindling—hot fear and something sickly sweet burned through him. He kept his eyes on the screen. They’re not going to get to me. His pulse beat in his neck.
Jax’s laughted again. "Take it out, Greg," she repeated, mocking and playful.
He forced a sneering, confident, and dismissive smile.
Then Jax turned to Thora, tilting her head like she was solving a mystery. "Does he like to show it off to people?"
"No," Thora said with a heavy sigh. "He’s too shy." A pause. "He thinks he’s small."
The words rocked him like a punch. His scalp prickled, heat flooding his face. Those were his words—whispered in the dark, meant only for her. The kind of thing he’d never say out loud, not to anyone else. Not even close. And she’d just handed them to Jax. His chest tightened. Betrayal burned under his skin. How could she?
But then—
Jax giggled, low and delighted. "Does he?"
Thora's gaze flicked to him, heavy with something he couldn’t name. "I don't know. But he likes it when I humiliate him. Maybe you could tell him what you think."
The room tilted. He shot Thora a look—angry, warning her to stop—but she just watched him, unrepentant. Jax’s eyes gleamed, dark and gleeful. They were both looking at him. Two hot girls. In his house. One of them would be in his bed tonight. He tried to hold the glare, tried to make it mean something, but his resolve tore like wet paper. His throat went dry and he looked away.
The TV’s volume spiked, a sudden roar of commentary swallowing the silence as somebody hit a dinger. Greg thumb-jabbed the volume button.
Thora didn’t even flinch. She stretched like a cat, arching her back against the couch cushions. She stilled and got comfortable again. “Take it out, Greg.”
He returned his eyes to the screen, jaw locked, scrambling to decipher who got the run.
Thora said, “Greg, please show us your tiny little dick.”
Jax dissolved into giggles, rolling onto her side, one hand pressed to her stomach like she couldn’t breathe. She turned her face away. The sound grated on his nerves, high and bright and knowing.
“Knock it off,” he said, voice low and serious one more.
Thora tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Come on, Greg. Jaxy'll tell you if it’s little.”
His fingers dug deeper into the armrests. “It’s not little.”
“Look how red he’s getting,” Thora said to Jax. Like she was narrating a nature documentary.
Jax propped herself up on an elbow, grinning. “Take it out, Greg.”
His pulse hammered in his temples. “You have a boyfriend, Jax.”
Jax shrugged like it was nothing. “He won’t mind.”
Thora's smile turned razor-sharp. “Especially since he’s so small.”
Greg cranked the volume up another notch. The TV blared, cheering crowds as someone got another runner to first base, drowning them out—but not enough. Their laughter still cut like razors.
Thora sighed, softening her tone. “Greg, come on. Show it to Jax.”
Jax sat up, crossing her legs. “I’ll take a look. I’ll tell you what I think.”
“I don’t want to know what you think.”
Thora leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Yes, you do, Greg. This is a one-time offer. This is your only chance. Take it out and show us.” She turned to Jax, voice dropping to a conspiratorial purr. “I guarantee you, he’s as hard as a rock right now.”
The game blurred again as his heart raced a thousand miles an hour. His fingers twitched against the remote, volume cranked high, but the sound couldn’t drown out every time Thora laughed.
How could she?
The question coiled in his chest like a poisonous snake. She knew—knew—how those words cut him. How they made his brain burn, how they lurked in the dark corners of his mind, the ones he only let her hear about. And now she’d just… spilled his secret fears to her sexy friend Jax. Like it was nothing. Like he was nothing.
His jaw ached from clenching.
He should leave. Walk out. Go upstairs, lock the door, pretend this wasn’t happening. But this was his house. His couch. His leather chair. His goddamn TV. He wasn’t going to flee like some taunted little brother.
The commentators’ voices rose and fell, meaningless. His eyes tracked the play, but his mind was elsewhere—back in the bedroom, in the dark, in the private moments when Thora's voice turned low and wicked, when she whispered things that made his pulse roar. Things that made him hard. Things that made him ashamed. Things she was using against him now.
Thora whispered to Jax. The way Jax’s lips curled sent another jolt through him.
What if he did it?
What if he stood up, unzipped his pants, and let them look? The thought flooded pressure through his groin. He shifted in his seat, the leather farting under him again. His cock ached, steel hard, betraying him, responding the way it wanted without the restraint of his pragmatic mind.
Thora's voice, low and teasing: "I guarantee you, Jaxy, he’s as hard as a rock right now."
She was so right. Was it not that bad?
His chest squeezed. He could picture it—Jax’s eyes dropping, Thora's smirk widening… The way they’d look at him, really look at it…
His hand slid down his thigh, fingers pressing into the muscle, as if he could push the heat away. It didn’t work. His cock throbbed, trapped against his fly, absolutely aching. The game droned on while he ignored them. The girls whispered. And Greg sat there, caught between anger and something far more dangerous—lava hot lust.
A sound cut across to him from their side—slow, deliberate, the imitated zzzzzzzziiiiiip of a zipper parting. Thora's lips pursed, her cheeks hollowing as she dragged the noise out, low and mocking. Jax’s head tipped back, laughter bursting, sharp and unguarded.
Greg clenched around the remote even harder. His pulse hammered in his throat.
Jax wiped at her eyes, laughing. Then she mimicked it as well—zzzzziiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip—longer, exaggerated, like she was savoring the sound. The absurdity of it cracked something in him. His mouth twitched. He fought it, but the corner of his lip curled up anyway.
Thora's eyes gleamed. “There he is—look who's smiling now.”
Jax leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “I know you saw my titties today, Greg.” Her voice dropped, teasing. “You bad boy.”
The words hit like a live wire. His breath stuttered. Not lust for Thora now, but Jax. Jax, who’d been topless by the pool, who’d stretched out like it was nothing, who’d caught him looking and smirked. Jax, who’d never said a word about it until now.
“Let me see your little dick,” she said, like it was only a way to even the scale.
His vision tunneled. The room narrowed to her her lips, the way her teeth flashed when she grinned. The anger that had been simmering in his gut flickered, then dimmed, smothered under something hotter. His cock throbbed. He turned the TV volume down to a reasonable level again.
Thora made the sound once more, lighter and funnier this time, less taunting and more encouraging—zzzziiiiiiip—making a hand motion like she was unzipping him herself. Jax dissolved into giggles, her shoulders shaking.
Greg's hands moved toward his fly with tentative slowness.
What worried him the most was revealing his penis to them and having them laugh. Yes, Thora had seen it hundreds of times. But what if Jax laughed at him?
Fuck, that made him even harder.
He began to unzip his fly. Jax squealed and hid her face behind her hands, drawing up her knees. "Ah, he's doing it." Thora laughed and nudged her, and Jax peeked through her fingers.
Greg's fingers stilled on the zipper. His throat tightened. "Forget it," he told them.
But he didn’t want to forget it.
Jax shook her hands out like she was shaking off nerves, then grabbed the throw blanket from the arm of the couch. She wrapped herself in it, sinking low into the cushions, knees drawn up. "No, go, Greg. I’m ready for it now." Her voice was light, but her eyes didn’t waver. She looked like she was settling in to watch a horror movie—braced for the jump scare, but too curious to look away.
Thora didn’t laugh this time. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, her expression smooth, unreadable. "Do it, Greg." No taunting. No games. Just a quiet command. "We want to see it."
The air between them thickened. His pulse hammered in his ears. He could still walk away. He should walk away.
But then Thora's gaze locked onto his, steady and unblinking, and something in him crumbled.
His fingers moved again. The zipper rasped.
Thora said aside to Jax, "He has to find it in his underwear now."
Jax giggled, still curled under the blanket, her shoulders shaking. The fabric clung to her curves, the dim light catching the outline of her collarbone, the dip of her waist. She looked like she was waiting for some sickly revelation.
The shame whispered the dirtiest encouragement in his mind.
His fingers trembled as he hooked them into the waistband of his boxer briefs. The fabric was damp where his cock had already leaked, the tip slick against his skin. He hesitated, his breath shallow.
Jax’s eyes flicked up to his, dark and expectant. "Do it," she whispered.
Thora's hand shot out, gripping Jax’s knee over the blanket. A silent anchor, steadying them both for what came next.
His stomach twisted. He knew what they’d see. Knew what Jax would think. They were going to say awful things to him. But he pulled it out anyway.
The cool air hit him first, then the terrifying weight of their scrutiny. His cock was small, flushed red, the tip glistening. He didn’t look at it—he looked past it. He watched Jax instead, searching for the flicker of disappointment, the curl of her lip.
Her expression didn’t change. Not at first. Then her lips parted, just slightly. She grimaced. Thora's fingers tightened on her knee.
Jax scrunched up her features, squinting at what Greg showed them. "Okay, there it is," she said, her voice squeezed tight.
"That's my little friend," Thora said, cooing, leaning into Jax, who laughed and kicked Thora back to her side of the couch. Thora laughed, then cajoled Jax, saying, "Tell him what you think of it, Jaxy."
Comments
Bill F Protagoras
Kudos.
Bill F Protagoras
It appears you never step in the same river twice, KT, narratively speaking...
Bill F Protagoras
And is that the un-kind uniform suitable to top this kind of episode... casual armoured cavalry campaign wear for the generation kill girl...
Bill F Protagoras
"Thora's hand shot out, gripping Jax’s knee over the blanket. A silent anchor, steadying them both for what came next." A silent anchor... nice!!! Not exactly an oxymoron but carrying its own verbal weight.
Bill F Protagoras
" The shame whispered the dirtiest encouragement in his mind." Aah! 'Shame' the most insidious and undermining of emotions... Unmanning and un- womaning at the same time... taking the legs out from under you... self inflicted Jujitsu...
Bill F Protagoras
Thora and Jax keeping him aloft like a shuttlecock... the more important game not being on any screen... be it large or ever so small.
Bill F Protagoras
How remote Greg's control must seem as he clutches it... Pretending he is not in other more constraining clutches.
Bill F Protagoras
Greg outnumbered. And shamefully outgunned.
Bill F Protagoras
Clever insertion of 'sleeper beauty' and sly girls spoiling gormless Greg through a conspiratorial weird sisterhood: conflictive female / male relations trawling murky yet still stirring waters...
