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For Old Times’ Sake

Perhaps unwisely, I agree to my ex-boyfriend’s request for one last blow-job
“Oh come on, Annie, just a quick fuck, for old times’ sake.”

“You have got to be kidding, Ollie.”

“Ok, maybe not a fuck, but how about a blow-job? One last time.”

“Oh, fuck it, ok, a blow-job. But it’ll have to be a quick one.”

He was already undoing his belt. I pushed him back against the wash-basin, hitched up my frock, and knelt down, hoping the floor wasn’t too dirty. I unzipped his fly, and tugged down the front of his briefs as he undid the last button and his trousers descended unceremoniously around his knees. His familiar cock was now in my hands, still soft but starting to swell with blood as I handled it, pulling down the foreskin to reveal his purple knob. Before it could get too hard, I leant over and fed it into my mouth.

I love the feeling of a soft cock getting harder in my mouth, and I felt it swelling more and more as I ran my tongue over it, pushing it into the corner of first one cheek and then the other. As it began to swell, getting harder and harder, I could feel the knob expanding towards the back of my throat, and I breathed steadily through my nose, over-riding the impulse to gag.

Soon he was fully erect, and I closed my lips tightly around his shaft. With one hand I cradled his hairy ball-sack, teasing it gently with my fingers while I sucked at his rod, dimpling my cheeks and swirling my tongue round his knob. He began to fuck my mouth, rocking backwards and forwards as he pushed his cock as far as he could, and I pressed my tongue up against its underside, pushing it against the roof of my mouth to make a tight soft passage for it.

With one hand, he rubbed at my right tit through the cup of my strapless frock. He pulled at the front and it slipped down, exposing my bare, bra-less breast.

“Oh fuck, I love your tits, Annie,” he sighed, running his fingers over the flesh and I felt the tight little rosebud of my pink nipple get hard with arousal.

I looked up at him and gave as much of a grin as I could with my mouth full of cock, my eyes sparkling with excitement, showing him how much I was enjoying this too. I knew we didn’t have long, so I concentrated my licking on the sensitive little “v” on the underside of his helmet.

By his rapid breathing, I could tell he was already close to coming. Knowing how much he loved to see himself ejaculate, I sucked until I heard him gasp out: “Oh fuck it, I’m coming, I’m coming.”

I opened my mouth wide and rested his cock on my tongue. I saw him grit his teeth as he held back as long as he could, then he cried out as the first stream of salty cum shot out, splashing against the roof of my mouth, and dripping down onto my outstretched tongue. I opened my mouth wider for the next incoming rope of thick white liquid, which snaked into my mouth to coat my tongue thickly, some of it starting to spill over the sides into the bottom of my mouth.

His cock jerked, and the next shot missed my mouth completely, splashing onto my cheek and starting to run down towards my chin. The next four or five spurts were more accurate, and by the time he had finished my mouth was filled with a pool of hot, salty mess. I was ready to swallow, but instead he pushed his cock back into my mouth and began to fuck it again, the pool of thick goo being swirled around by his thrusts.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the toilet door opened.

“Ollie, are you in there? Where have you been? They’re ready to cut the cake downstairs. Hurry up!”

I looked up, as Ollie’s softening cock slipped out of my mouth, slick with a coating of saliva and semen. I swallowed, but not before a rivulet of creamy spunk had dribbled out of the corner of my mouth and hung off my chin.

Ollie’s bride screamed, and dropped her bouquet. Then she turned round and ran out of the room, weeping, dragging her white train after her. Ollie cursed, pulled up his pants and trousers and stumbled after her, while I wiped my chin with my hand and licked the errant semen off. I pulled up my frock over my breasts again and tutted as I noticed that a globule of semen had dripped onto one of the cups.

Oh dear, he’d have a lot of explaining to do. In the meantime, I decided I’d better make myself scarce. I suspected there were various members of both families who would be keen to make their feelings about me known, and I didn’t want to be around when they did it.

As I tiptoed past the door to the hotel’s function room, I heard a hubbub of raised voices, the crash of broken glass, and something that sounded uncomfortably like a large cake hitting the floor. I grabbed an unopened bottle of champagne from the table by the door, and made a bee-line for the door.

It must have been one of the shortest marriages on record.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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