My ex breezed past me like she used to own the place, the very picture of calm and sexual confidence. It was comfortably warm that Friday evening in the Atlanta suburbs. She was wearing what a guy might call a T-shirt except it was made with some kind of gauzy material. I suppose that makes it a blouse. Whatever it was, it was sheer and her nipples poked through sans bra. Her blue jean shorts were very worn and pale blue, the hems rolled up against her ass cheeks. Her long legs were toned and tanned--as you would expect from a girl who's played competitive tennis all her life. Her light brown hair was lighter than normal from the sun.
She made it all the way down the hallway and into the kitchen before I realized I was still holding the door open. It occurred to me that this might be some kind of setup--that it must be some kind of setup--so I snapped my head back around and looked outside, expecting the worst. I even walked out onto the porch to look around for the boogeyman. Why the hell was she here if it wasn't to set me up? But no one was there. I walked inside and shut the door, locking it behind me. I walked down the hall to the kitchen and her amused expression.
"Expecting someone else?" she asked with a hint of a smile.
"Just checking," I said. "You just never know who might drop in."
She didn't remark, but kept her pleasant expression in place as she casually strolled around the kitchen and dining area where I had my laptop out and papers strewn about. She had kicked off her sandals. Apparently she was staying for a while.
"Love what you've done with the place," she joked. I hadn't changed a thing since she left, so I just smiled slightly in reply.
Looking at pictures on the wall that showed our family in various places, doing all the things families do she said, "You might want to take down some of these pictures of you and me. Your girlfriends might think you still have a thing for your ex."
As she said this she turned to look me in the eyes, the barest hint of a smile taunting me to reply.
I shrugged. "I'll get around to it. I've been busy."
"Had many girls over?" she asked none too innocently.
"Dozens," I joked.
"Well, good for you," she said, clearly hoping I'd ask her something similar. I knew better than to take that bait.
She took a step over to the table and showed interest with what she found, boldly shuffling some of my papers about. While her eyes were cast down at the table mine were roving her body. I never want to marry her again, but I dearly wanted to fuck her. She's tall and slim and girl-next-door attractive with dimples. My gaze paused at her crotch. She has the most perfectly formed camel toe. Something about a slim girl with a thick bulge that strains against that center seam in her jeans. Fucking turns me on something fierce.
She glanced at me and caught me checking her out before I could shift my eyes. She didn't say anything about it, but we both knew I'd been caught. "So whatcha working' on?" she asked.
The truth was I had been watching porn. In fact, I had just watched some married white chick give a blow job to a very well hung black dude. And the girl looked shockingly similar to Cindy. But it was time for me to say something clever so I said, "Oh I was just trying to figure out a way to pay you more alimony." Yeah, right.
"Oh that is just so sweet of you," she said, her sweet sarcasm just a little sweeter than mine. But hers came with a twist. She walked over to me and put her arms around my neck and then whispered very quietly into my ear, her lips just touching me, tickling my ear. "That's the very sweetest thing an ex-husband has ever said to me."
I'm her only ex-husband.
Then she kissed my ear and gave me a long, firm hug, her body draped against mine like melting ice cream. I reluctantly put my arms around her, not really knowing what to do or what would come next. Then she leaned back just a little but kept her arms around my neck and locked eyes with me. Her crotch and thighs pressed against mine, her back arched away. After several moments she leaned into me and gave me a kiss full on the lips. She didn't slip me her tongue or anything; it was just a full lip kiss that went on for several seconds. In the course of this little manipulation I became hard and we both knew it. Her eyes smoldered with passion and control.
As she released me from the kiss she quietly said, "You are the best kisser ever. And I miss what you can do with that mouth."
She put a finger against my lips as she let go of me, turned, and headed to the living room.
What the fuck was that? I thought. And watched that wonderful backside sashay over to the couch and plop down.
The sofa is one of those sort of over-stuffed comfy things, with big arms and thick cushions. It must be a dozen years old and is still seriously comfy. I've slept on it; she's slept on it; we've fucked on it. It's a great piece of furniture. She turned around so that she was lying with her head on the far armrest. She rested one leg on the floor and pulled the other up against the back of the couch, her heel near her ass, her legs spread. That beautiful camel toe was smiling at me. She reached past her crotch to pat the couch so I knew to approach. Like a dog I responded to my mistress.
I sat legs forward, tried to look mostly forward and tried to effect a casual posture, but it was pretty tough with her lying there, legs spread, tight shorts straining against her camel toe, erect nipples daring me to…whatever. But mustering up what little self-respect I could, I turned to her and asked, "So what brings you to my neighborhood this time of night?"
"I was in the area and thought I'd stop by…see if you were home."
"You…visiting friends…nearby?" An innocent question.
She blinked slowly but didn't glance away. "I have a special friend nearby."
I hated what was happening, but it was like I was being hypnotized. I had a hard-on before she arrived, then lost it when she surprised me at the door, then sported it again when she hugged me and now she was making it rise like baking bread under her spell.
"Remember James?" she asked. "The mitigator litigator, I think you called him?" Her smile returned now. She was doing something with her hand on her lower leg, like tracing circles on her thigh or something. It's not clear in my memory. My focus was on her eyes, but subconsciously I noted a little bit of everything: her tone, her posture, her look, her scent…she used it all like a weapon and I was powerless.
I did remember James quite well. We had agreed to divorce mediation. Cindy had heard about this guy James and I had agreed to use him. When I walked into his office to sign papers and saw them together, though, I knew I had walked into a lion's den. She was wearing a short-skirted business suit with high heels. With her hair just so and her make-up, she looked every bit the high-level exec or perhaps the very expensive hooker. With her heels she was a couple inches taller than me. He was taller than her, broad shouldered, good looking, and probably six or more years younger than she. He was also clearly trying to get into that skirt, so pleasing her was his everything.
As you can imagine, I got fucked at that meeting. And it smarted. I'm sure they fucked each other senseless in celebration after I left.
"How can I forget dear James," I said. "How is my old friend?"
"Hung like a mule," she said, her gaze unwavering, her smile taunting.
"Lucky man," I said, swallowing.
She chuckled and looked away, leaning her head back. Neither of us said anything for several moments. It was an opportunity for me to stare longingly at those mounds of flesh about to burst through the denim at her crotch. It looked like it must hurt to wear those shorts, but even as I stared she began slowly rocking her legs back and forth, the pressure on that seam against her crotch providing hands-free masturbation. Though she was looking away she knew what drew my focus.
"So if you could do anything right now," she mused, "anything at all. What would you do?"
She kept rocking her legs while looking away. One hand toyed at her hair while the other sort of stroked her other thigh.
"You mean, like, fly off to the Maldives?"
She ignored my joke, finally meeting my eyes with hers. "Kiss me right here," she said, lightly tapping her upper leg near the knee.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because we both want you to," she said.
I gave her a peck on the leg.
"You can do better. Now kiss me right here." This time she tapped a little lower on her steadily rocking thigh.
I gave her my best you've-got-to-be-shitting-me look. Then after a pause leaned over and kissed her thigh; a long, wet smootch with a hint of nibble that pressed her leg against the back of the couch. A little voice inside my head said, 'Okay, tell her it's time for her to go.' But the voice was too little and too quiet, so I ignored it.
"Better," she said. "Now this one." Her hand pointed to the other thigh, midway up. That center seam of her shorts must be pushing against her cervix. Damn. I was hard. She still rocked her upper leg rhythmically which allowed me better aim on the lower one, the non-moving target. I glanced at her bulge, then used teeth and lips to her satisfaction on her thigh.
"Ummm," she said. "Even better. Now over here."
We were crossing from one leg to the other, creeping closer to that crotch. We were about to cross a boundary I wasn't sure I should cross. The voice in my head spoke up a little louder, 'You REALLY need to tell her to leave!' But the throbbing in my pants prevented any rational thought from taking control and certainly prevented my saying anything rational or responsible aloud.
She paused, looking at me, building the anticipation. Her right hand eased down to her crotch, her left languidly stroked her thigh. Her middle finger traced the seam that split her crotch in two. She went up and back down two or three times. Then she stopped with her hand flat against her crotch, the tip of her middle finger at her anus, her fingers spread across those luscious mounds. "Kiss my knuckles."
Her wish at this point was my command. I think I heard a very quiet scream from deep inside my mind. It sounded like a 'Noooo...', but I was thinking 'Go'. I lowered my head and kissed each knuckle, one at a time.
She slowly slid her hand up and then put it on top of my head. She pushed me down where I longed to go anyway. I pressed my lips and then my nose into her crotch, savoring the moment. I can't even articulate all the emotions I felt at that point. But I was turned on and certainly not thinking clearly. She held me there and gradually began to grind against me.
"There are things you need to know," she began and it was clear this was a one way conversation. I alternated between pressing her labia with my lips, nose, and cheekbone as she talked and tormented. "Well, there are things I want to tell you anyway," she said with a chuckle.
This was the sort of thing we used to enjoy. It was a very naughty way of sharing fantasies or what we had called bed time stories. Back then she had also shared stories of what I then thought were pre-marital sexual experiences with other men. They were very, very hot. We'd tell each other these stories while engaging in foreplay. It's great fun for married folks. But we were no longer married and I was to begin learning how some of those stories she had told were not from her pre-marital days. She'd been fucking around; I just didn't know it at the time. Not for sure anyway.
"For starters," she continued, "I've been fucking James since the week before our mediation."
I didn't stop. Wasn't sure I could. That was a testing point for her. She wanted to see if I were strong enough to protest or yell or get mad. Something. But I did not. She won a significant point and was certainly pleased. She continued, "I fucked him tonight…right before I came over here." After a slight pause--another testing point--she pulled me very firmly into her crotch, her right hand fisting a handful of hair. It wasn't a sudden move like a yank, just definite dominant pressure. She was making a point and making it well. I think she wanted to keep talking, but got distracted with her pleasure and instead focused on pulsing her crotch against my face. Amazingly, in just a few moments she came. It was brief but unmistakable. She groaned, arched her back and shuddered briefly, then with a big sigh of satisfaction returned to more gradual grinding and slightly breathless talking.
"When I met him in his office the first time we flirted like teens. I had him so worked up he probably jacked off as soon as I left his office. But I made him wait, made him take me to a nice dinner, made him show me his house (a very nice one, by the way) and made him seduce me in his home. Which--my, my, my--just happens to be about a mile from here. During foreplay we talked about fucking you. And somehow that got us both very, very hot."
She was fucking me right then, but she was fucking my face through her shorts. She made me take them off, then her panties.
"But that first night was just a teaser. I visited him twice more in his office before you and I met him there. Both times I just teased him. Told him he didn't get to fuck me again until he fucked you for the first time." She laughed. "That was so much fun. Fuck, but I can be naughty."
She lapsed into silence as I devoured her sopping wet pussy. She held my head and ground against me and I heard her laugh a couple more times to herself. Then she was silent as she bucked against me and eventually came once again--this time longer and harder than before. This time she held the arch for quite a while, held my face against her pussy, twisted us both sideways and into the couch, then gradually slumped back down into the pillowy softness.
"James has a big fucking cock, but I sure miss your mouth," she said breathlessly. "Damn."
She was breathing deeply and was holding my head back with a handful of hair in her fist. I leaned forward to flick my tongue against her clit. She winced. I did it again. Then again and again. She finally made me stop. She loved it and hated it at the same time. I wondered if we were done.
"James and I don't use condoms," she said, and her look said so much more. She pulled my face back into her pussy and said, "But this is not the first time you've tasted that."
Her laugh was loud and clear.
To be continued...
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