**Beachside Betrayal**

I’d known Max for years—too long to pretend I didn’t know exactly what he wanted when he invited me to the beach that day. My girlfriend, Lisa, had been his ex, and even though she was the one who’d dumped him, he still had this possessive streak. The way his eyes followed her at parties, the way he’d casually brush against her when he thought I wasn’t looking.

But today, Lisa wasn’t here. And Max had other plans.

We’d set up near the rocks, far enough from the main strip that the crowds thinned. The sun was brutal, sticking my t-shirt to my back as I sprawled on the towel, pretending to read a book. Max lounged beside me, oiled-up and shameless, his board shorts riding low enough that I could see the outline of his cock even when he was soft.

“You ever do this before?” he asked, voice lazy, like he was talking about the weather.

“Do what?” I played dumb, knowing exactly where this was going.

He smirked. “Let someone else touch what’s yours.”

My stomach clenched, my dick already stirring at the implication. Lisa and I had talked about cuckqueaning before—how hot it would be to tease her, make her watch, make her *jealous*—but we’d never actually gone through with it.

Max didn’t wait for an answer. His fingers trailed over my thigh, rough from surfing, calloused in ways Lisa’s never were. “Relax,” he murmured. “Just a handjob. Just to see.”

I swallowed hard, glancing around. A couple strolled by with their dog, but they weren’t looking. The waves drowned out most sound. No one would see.

“Fuck it,” I muttered.

Max’s grin was wolfish as he palmed me through my shorts, his grip firm. I bit back a groan, my cock thickening under his touch. He knew what he was doing—slow, teasing strokes, just enough pressure to make my hips jerk.

“Bet Lisa’d lose her shit if she saw this,” he mused, watching my face.

The thought sent a jolt through me, my cock twitching in his grip. He laughed, low and knowing, finally tugging my shorts down just enough to free me. The salt air was cool on my exposed skin, but the heat of his hand burned hotter.

His grip tightened, thumb swiping over my slit, smearing the pre-cum already beading there. “Fuck,” I hissed, my head falling back.

Max worked me slowly, deliberately, his other hand braced on my thigh like he *owned* it. His strokes were lazy, almost cruel in how little he gave me. I could hear the slick sounds between us, the sticky drag of his palm over my shaft.

“You like this?” he taunted. “Knowing she’d *hate* it?”

I groaned, my hips bucking into his grip. *Yes.* The idea of Lisa finding out, of her watching, furious and turned on, made my balls tighten.

Max sped up, twisting his wrist just right, his fingers digging in. “Gonna make you come right here,” he muttered, his breath hot against my ear. “Right where anyone could see.”

My breath came in ragged gasps, my thighs tensing. The danger of it—someone catching us, Lisa’s name on his lips—sent me over the edge. My cum shot over his fist, streaking my stomach, the mess undeniable.

Max chuckled, wiping his hand on my thigh. “Guess we know what Lisa’s missing out on.”

I couldn’t even answer. My chest heaved, my cock still pulsing. And all I could think was—*she needs to see this next time.*