How to Make a Cheater: Prologue

[MugWump]

Sometimes, when examining my many, many poor life choices, I’ve wondered; how do you make a cheater? We can’t just be born like this, something has to have *happened*, y’know? So this post, while including some cheating, is not just about my cheating, so much as about how I became the cheater I am today. An origin story, of sorts. The grand setup for the inevitable punchline. A Prelude.

 

I think it starts with having to keep your formative sexual awakening a secret. I grew up in a very Catholic family, in a very small, close-minded town. Not ideal when you accidentally catch the premier of Queer as Folk on late night tv while alone and finally figure out exactly *how* different you are to all the other boys. Sure, you have no idea what rimming is either after seeing that scene, only that it looked really fucking enjoyable, and 14 year old you wants to find out all about it as soon as bloody possible. You have to sit on this excruciating secret for a whole year, until your school collides with a Scottish school on a field trip to Sweden, and a boy named Martin who’s just a bit more savvy than you clocks who you really are, and sneaks you out of your dorm to drink stolen vodka and share a first, electrifying kiss. It’s beautiful, but then you go home, and you can’t tell anyone about it. Martin keeps in touch for a while, but Scotland is a long way away, and soon enough it’s just you again. (Put a pin in Martin though, he’ll be back.)

 

From that point on, until I left home a few years later, my only experience of a "relationship" was two weeks of hand holding and chaste kisses with Craig over in the next town. He was incredibly cute, but we were 15 and dumb, and it didn’t last. Again,  don’t forget Craig, he’ll be back as well. Anyway, in short, I had no idea what romance was beyond sneaky kisses and holding hands when no one was looking. Every moment of awakening was a guilty secret. It taught me to hide quite well, and hiding was, unfortunately, therefore inextricably linked to arousal.

 

While romance was short, sex, on the other hand, was plentiful once it started. I was a reasonably cute teen with a very nice butt if I do say so myself, and I had been 16 for all of a month before I went to my best friend’s own 16th birthday party, where her 21 year old cousin Stephen was home from uni and chaperoning the chaos. He didn’t do a great job though, as he snuck a slightly inebriated me out before midnight, drove me to the aptly named Cherry Lane, and finally gave me what I’d been craving. He was taller and bigger than me, and quite buff, with a shaved head and what I thought was a sexy gap in his front teeth. I don’t remember any panic as he pulled me into the back seat and forced his cock down my throat, just the tremendous pressure of my horniness, like if I didn’t have sex that night I would literally die. I gagged on his sizable cock a lot (I’m still sadly shit at deepthroating), but I guess eventually it was wet enough for his liking. He pulled my jeans off, slapped some of his own spit on my hole, and then sat me down on his dick like I was a human fleshlight. Funnily, I don’t remember it hurting at all; evidently I needed this, and his wet dick just slid right in to the hilt as my eyes rolled back in my head. They never taught sex ed in my Catholic school beyond "this is how babies are made", so I never even thought to ask for a condom, and I don’t think I would have wanted one anyway; I wanted to feel every last thing, and he bounced me on his dick like I weighed nothing. He never asked if I was ok, or if it hurt, or if I wanted this, he just used my tight, fresh hole to please his dick, and as a man’s cum flooded into me for the first time I absolutely drenched him in return. I was spent, I was euphoric, and ten minutes later I’d been thrown out of the car three streets away from the party so we wouldn’t be seen returning together. I walked back, hole aching and dripping cum, and spent the rest of the night being pointedly ignored by him. The dirty feeling of being used and the intense sexual arousal of the encounter would pretty much be a staple of my sex life from then on. Stephen would sneak me out in much the same manner whenever he was in town over the next years, and it was always the same; no small talk, he would roughly use my hole to dump his load, and I would have to walk home. It wasn’t until well after I’d seen him for the last time that I found out about his girlfriend and kid.

 

The other encounter of note before I left my hometown was a pair in London, Aiden and Rob. It was only a couple of months after my original encounter with Stephen, and I had been desperate for more. I met them online, a 24-year old couple, who also did some work with a now-defunct porn studio. I thought they were crazy hot, and I lied about my age and my experience trying to get them to meet me until they finally invited me over. 

They must have clocked straight away that I wasn’t being honest about some things, but like I said, I was cute, so it wasn’t long before I was naked on the couch, Rob’s dick in my mouth, and Aiden spreading my legs, finally introducing me to the joys of rimming. I honestly thought I was going to die of pleasure, and I was so horny that when Aiden started to position himself between my legs, I again didn’t care about the lack of condom. Given the size of him, however, what I should have cared about was the lack of lube. My lies came back to bite me though, as I had told him that I had taken a lot of dick, and that the deeper and rougher it was the better, and so he pushed his massive cock into me with only spit and precum, smirking when I cried out. "I thought you said you liked it deep?"

 

"Not *that* deep!" I gasped, desperately putting my hands on his thighs, trying to stop him going further. Now, I *know* the next thing that happened was a shitty thing to do to dumb horny kid, I *know* I should have been more mad about it, but goddamit if it doesn’t still make me rock hard; he bats my hands away, says "Bit late now, you’ll be fine" and proceeds to fuck me like a steam train. No going slow and gentle, no easing up to grab the lube, just straight to pounding my hole like he wants to come out the other side. Rob grabs my head and forces his dick down my throat, and I just have to hold on for dear life as they take turns throwing me around the room. It finally ends when I’m on the lounge floor, on my back and legs spread, Rob has just cum down my throat, and Aiden is somehow going even harder. He tells me he’s going to cum, and I beg him to pull out (I’d started to educate myself a little since Stephen), to which he simply grunts "No", and fires his load into me so hard I can feel his dick pulsing. I’m ashamed to say that pushed me right over the edge, and I had to rinse my own cum out of my hair before limping home.

 

I saw them many more times over the next couple of years, and even if I tried to bring out the condoms they would always manage to send me home dripping cum, feeling used and abused, and honestly I fucking loved it. Anyway, I also need you to stick a pin in Aiden and Rob for now, because, naturally, they are going to come up again.

 

So, that’s the gist of my formative sexual years, and honestly I think it’s pretty obvious where my cheating fetish came from. I’ll see you in the next part for first boyfriends, first betrayals, and a lot of dick. Ciao!