Serving My Ex

Disclaimer: If you are under 18 or otherwise legally restricted from viewing material of an erotic nature GO AWAY! If you are offended by sexually explicit material why are you here in the first place?

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It had taken a long time for the heart ache to go away, a relationship I thought would be the one tossed aside like yesterday's trash when she grew tired of it. Of course our hanging out with the same people and being part of the same crowd didn't help. I was constantly seeing her, hearing about her latest lover, even being played with by her when she got too drunk at a party.

Eventually though the pain faded and we were able to resume some semblance of our former friendship, I say some semblance because I never did shake the basic love I felt for her. I guess it was always obvious, though no-one ever commented, occasionally I saw her look at me speculatively and with pity.

As time progressed, we began going out to see movies and things together. A natural progression based on the proximity of our homes and workplaces. It was always pretty harmless, a flick, a drink or a few and maybe a night cap at her place. Sad though, I followed along like a puppy, so eager to please but too cautious to make any overt moves.

I guess as we spent more time together, and her relationships continued to fail, she began to pay closer attention to me and the way I was acting. I don't know how long she was thinking about things, or when the idea first occurred to her, but last week she implemented a plan that was to change my life.

It all began innocently enough, with us going to see a movie and then have some dinner and drinks afterwards. The movie was great, we laughed throughout the entire thing, coming out to an excellent dinner and a couple of drinks at a mid scale place, all the while hashing over our favourite parts and laughing uproariously.

After dinner, I walked her back to her place, accepting an invitation to come up for one last drink before calling it a night. In retrospect, the look she gave me should've triggered some sort of wariness, but in the throes of a great evening with a woman I was enamoured with was I in any mood to analyze?

Up at her place I settled in on one end of the couch, beer in hand, while she lounged on the other end. Asking if I minded, she put her feet up onto my lap, swinging her legs up before I had a chance to answer.

"My feet are so sore today," she said, wiggling her toes and stretching her arches, "would you mind giving me a foot rub for a while?" Naturally I was only too happy to, and immediately proceeded to lavish all the attention a pair of hands can give to both of her feet, one after the other and back. She moaned contentedly, shifting one foot forward whenever she wanted me to switch. I jumped slightly as her heel brushed the erection pushing up the front of my jeans, but she didn't seem to notice, leaning back and enjoying the foot massage I was giving her.

Abruptly she pulled back, "Thanks, that was great" she said, rising from the couch with a stretch. "My pleasure" I replied, masking my disappointment. She walked out of the living room, leaving me on the couch, uncomfortably hard and listening to the stereo. A couple of minutes later I hear the toilet flush, and she returns, only now she is wearing a bathrobe.

I remembered that ratty old bathrobe from before, the way it piled up beside the bed, the feel of it sliding from her shoulders and my hard-on grew even stiffer. "I've noticed something, and I think maybe we should talk about it," she whispered to me, leaning over and letting the upper part of her bathrobe slid open, "I want you to answer this honestly."

Mesmerized by the view I merely nodded listening as she continued, "You never really stopped loving me did you? In some ways its worse now than before isn't it?" My eyes widened as she spoke, shock and dismay conflicting with a relief at finally speaking about it. I nodded, unable to answer any other way. "What did you say" she prompted, "I didn't understand your response."

"Yes, you're right" I mumbled unable to meet her eyes. "Right about what?" she demanded, becoming more aggressive. "Right that I still love you," I murmured finally looking up at her, "Right that I never stopped and its even worse now than then."

A slow smile spread across her face, not the warm smile of someone being told they are loved, something more predatory. "You know I don't feel the same way you do," she smiled down at me as though the gut wrenching words were the nicest things she'd said all day, "I know you don't want to hear that but it's the truth." I nodded numbly, a feeling of humiliation creeping over me that she'd manipulated me into actually saying I loved her, only to throw it into my face. "You're probably feeling pretty pissed about me even bringing it up," she continued, letting even more of her breast show through the bathrobe, "There's nothing I can do though, I enjoy your company and all, but I really wouldn't be comfortable sleeping together, that time in our lives is done."

I began to get up, all sense of propriety thrown out in my urgency to leave when she stopped me with a hand on my chest. "I'm not finished yet!" she barked, pushing me back, "As I said, I don't want to sleep with you, but you know I haven't had a regular lay in months, a couple of one night stands and dates that failed after two or three tries. Obviously, I'm horny, and it occurred to me you may be able to help out." She held my eyes as she said this, a knowing look in her eyes, "I wouldn't mind having you go down on me once in a while, to take the edge off as it were."

I just stared, numb and confused as she continued, "I really don't think it's a great deal for you, pleasuring me when I want it with no return, but its all I can offer," all the while smiling down from her position standing over me, "So what's the answer, yes..." she swung open her bathrobe revealing her trimmed pubic hair already glistening with her juices, "Or no?"

My voice was so husky it sounded like a croak as I said the fateful word "Yes". She smiled and placed her hand on the back of my head, pulling me towards her wet pussy, "Yes what" she prompted. "Yes, I will lick you pussy whenever you tell me you want it." I replied. "Not just lick my pussy," she interrupted, "Kiss and lick and stroke me however I tell you to."

"Yes, anywhere, any way, any time," I mumbled as she drew me into her wetness and I began to slowly caress her with my lips and tongue. Above me I could hear her laughter, as I felt her hands tighten in my hair pushing my face deeper, her hips beginning a rhythmic pumping in time to my licks. "I'm going to enjoy having you a lot" she said, becoming, if possible even wetter at the thought, "Be ready for a long night."

She didn't speak, grunting and occasionally saying yes in long hissing indrawn breaths, pushing my head back and forth, sometimes holding me still while grinding her clit across the bridge of my nose. "Keep licking," she spat, as she pumped against my face, "Don't you stop, you'll know when you're done."

Her fingers close to ripping hunks of hair from my scalp, she ground her way to a tremendous orgasm, almost suffocating me in her wet folds. Finally, when I thought I couldn't hold on any longer, she released my hair and pushed my head back.

"Mmmm," she moaned, "That was even better than I remembered." I looked up at her, standing over me, her wetness cooling on my face, her taste and smell drenching my senses. She looked down, once again capturing my eyes with hers, the same smug predatory smile on her face. "Was it good for you?" she asked mockingly. I sat below her, still stunned by the situation. "Well? Was it?" she asked again more forcefully, demanding an answer from me. I nodded as she laughed, savouring my discomfort and surrender.

Stepping around me she sat back on the couch, legs splayed, her labia puffy and red, pubic hair plastered to her skin. "You can't think you're finished yet," she murmured gesturing down between her legs, "Look at the mess you've left."

I moved over, bending towards her waiting pussy when a hand stopped me. "Don't you think it would be easier if you got down on the floor and knelt?" she asked, as though speaking to a child.

Numbly I moved down, kneeling between her legs, drawing my tongue up the wetness of her thighs, licking the outside of her labia, then carefully drawing my tongue up the length of her cleft, cleaning the remnants of her orgasmic cream from her. She let me do this for some time before stopping me. "Well, you've cleaned me up nicely," she smiled to me, "But you've missed what ran back further."

I looked up at her with confusion, not understanding her meaning, until she reached down, hooking her hands under her knees, and pulled her legs up exposing her ass, and the pink ring at its heart. It glistened, the combination of her pussy juice and sweat dampening the entire length of the cleft of her ass.

I started to move back, unwilling to debase myself, knowing she wanted my humiliation as much as the sensation. "Stop," she snapped, "If you aren't cleaning my ass in the next 10 seconds you'll never touch me again."

She leaned back, never taking her eyes from mine as she watched me debate with myself. I believe she knew the outcome all along, giving only a self-satisfied smile as I leaned forward pushing my face between her damp ass cheeks. Her smell engulfed me, the salty marine scent of her excitement, the scent of her sweat, and the sharp earthy tang of her asshole itself.

Scooting her hips forward she let go her legs, draping them over my shoulders, pushing me harder into her ass and reached down with both hands to hold my head. "Lick me," she demanded, "Let me feel your tongue inside my asshole. Lick my ass, lick my shithole and lick it well."

With a moan I began to do as she said, drawing my tongue up and down the length of her ass crack, circling her ring with the tip of my tongue before pushing my tongue past its resistance and into her. "Yes," she hissed, "Fuck my ass with your tongue, love my ass with your mouth. You're going to do this a lot, so get used to it."

Finally, after an eternity, she clenched her legs around my neck and shook through another orgasm, all the while keeping me in place licking her. When the last convulsion subsided, she let go my head and pushed me back with one foot.

"That was great," she grinned, "It'll be hard to follow that up with anything." Sliding her foot up, she pushed her toes against my lips, forcing her big toe and next into my mouth. "Suck on these while I rest," was all she said as she leaned back catching her breath and enjoying my lips and tongue caressing her toes and the sole of her foot. "I'm wiped right now, but there's all night ahead."

That was the beginning; in the last week she's called me over twice, sessions that last for hours, never once letting me cum, not even by my own hand. I go home in the mornings, mouth sore, exhausted, stroke myself to orgasm in what seems like (and likely is) seconds before falling asleep, swearing that I will not let her degrade me again, but I come when she calls and serve as she demands. I can't stop.