So, in your drunken state you decide that you want me. Calling me in the early hours to deliver a slurred speech telling me what a fool you’ve been, and how much you miss me.
Odd that it’s taken you nearly three months to come to this conclusion, since that day you dumped me. I listen to your transparent patter and the recycled charm offensive somewhat indifferently. I should be kicking you to the kerb and putting the phone down, but foolishly I yield and listen.
You tell me you’ll be twenty minutes, and I rush around to make myself presentable. Heaven knows why as I don’t seek your approval anymore.
I see the taxi pull up and I’m at the door waiting for you like some diligent servant. I’d love to say you look drop dead gorgeous, but you don’t in the slightest. In all honesty you look like you could do with a good wash and a lie down. So why do I still want you so badly?
The small talk is minimal, less than a minute passes before your lips are pressed hotly against mine. The kiss is frenzied and intense. Your stubble scratches my sensitive skin, but I couldn’t care less. I just crave the intimacy.
You back me up against the lounge wall and pepper my neck with kisses. Your hands tearing off my top and sucking and biting my nipples with wild abandon, just like you used to in the good old days.
“Oh baby I’d forgotten how fucking amazing your tits are.”
I gasp lustfully as your hands and tongue stir me up, making me want you all over again. I can feel my body tingling already with anticipation.
Despite the heat we’re generating, the cold early December air makes the room an uncomfortable place to be. I suggest we take things up to bed immediately. We make it upstairs in a bundle of arms and legs, before you push me down onto the bed and remove your remaining clothes. I always loved your body, especially those toned legs and the thick uncut cock which stands tantalisingly erect in front of me.
No messing around or time wasting here. You yank down my knickers and clumsily finger my wet pussy hard and fast. Your lack of technique doesn’t matter, my need is so great that I orgasm within two minutes and leave your fingers a sticky mess.
“Looks like you needed that, babe?”
I don’t give you the satisfaction of a reply, taking it to be a rhetorical question.
Without ceremony you are hoisting my legs over your shoulders and roughly entering me with gusto. I grunt in primal satisfaction as you begin to fuck me just as I like it.
Your angle of thrust is perfect, and I adore how deep you are going. The drink is obviously helping, as you last a lot longer than you ever did sober.
Our bodies slap together in perfect union, the room bursting with the ambience of unabashed sex. It’s not romantic or particularly graceful, but it’s working for me.
Your face contorts, eyes tightly shut as you come hard before collapsing on top of me. I gently kiss your sweat studded brow, and trace the curve of your cheekbones with my thumbs.
Sometimes words are not needed. We lie just basking in the episode we’ve just shared. The moment sadly is shattered by your phone vibrating on my bedside cabinet. I open one eye and see the name ‘Vanessa’ lit large on the display.
Unless it’s a strange coincidence, Vanessa just happens to be the name of my best friend.
I pick up the phone, beating your desperate lunge for it. Forcefully I throw it against the bedroom door, causing it to shatter and fall to the floor.
“You fucking user. You crawl back here just for sex, when all the time you’ve been seeing her
I turf you out and slam the door hard behind you. The tears roll down my face, and I curse myself for being so weak.
When will I ever learn?
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