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Four stories about the ex-boyfriend July 26, 2011

Posted by Leah in Boyfriend, Retrospective.
15 comments

— 1 —

We had been lovers for quite some time, but had only been officially dating for four months when I took him home to meet the parents for Thanksgiving. It was a full house. In addition to my brother, my sister, and my sister’s boyfriend, we had one set of grandparents, two pairs of aunts and uncles with an assortment of cousins from early teens to college age, and my Dad’s graduate students. In the mid-afternoon, as final touches were being made on dinner, I went to my bedroom upstairs. The boyfriend intercepted me on the way down.

Pressing my body against the wall, he kissed me with a hunger. Instinctively, I kissed him back the same way. He extracted his penis from his pants and had me lift up my dress for him. Nudging the panties to the side, he entered me. The straps of my dress snagged against the brick. It skinned my shoulders. I struggled to keep silent. Violent kisses stopped my gasps. The fear of being discovered by anyone at all filled me with absolute dread. This was a quickie fuck. The sex couldn’t have lasted more than five minutes. During the meal, my boyfriend’s come leaked from my cunt and soaked through my underwear.

— 2 —

I had on a black ankle length dress and a white top. In a playful mood, I teased my boyfriend throughout Sunday’s football games. Going to my knees before him, I lipped his penis through the jeans. The press of a thigh over his groin raised the erection. I sat atop his lap and did a grind against his cock while I whispered seduction into his ear. This went on until he lost patience.

He threw me to the floor. A Swiss army knife stabbed through the fabric of the dress and slit from top to bottom. He cut until the dress was only rags on my body. The blade then sliced through the tank top. He snipped the red bra with greater care, and the cups fell from my breasts. After rolling the sharp and cold blade over the lips of cunt, he poked a hole through the front panel of my panties, then ripped. The rent he made was large enough for his cock. I was so immensely turned on. I was his rag doll. He pounded me while I was clothed in tatters.

— 3 —

He tied me to a tree in the woods in Maine when we went camping during Fourth of July weekend. Stout rope bound my arms high above my head. It wrapped my chest and waist. When he penetrated my pussy, one of my thighs rose to the jut of his hip. My leg vined down behind him. My shoulders and back experienced the coarse textures of the bark of the tree trunk. The sound of sex echoed in the humid air. We sweated profusely under the heat of an unforgiving sun. Perspiration stung my eyes. When he released me, he cut a shoot from a much smaller tree, stripped it bare of leaves and branches, and crafted a switch, which he applied to my ass and thighs. No one was there to hear me howl in the woods in undistilled hurt. No one was there to hear me scream in all encompassing pleasure on the previous autumn’s leaves while I was thoroughly fucked once more.

He and I skinny dipped in the lake to wash away the dirt and the grime. The frigid water refreshed and revived me in the heat. We dressed, cooked a meal at a nearby campsite, packed, and shouldering heavy backpacks, resumed our traipse through the woods.

— 4 —

Because of the open relationship, I sometimes saw evidence of sex in our bedroom. There were blindfolds stained with another girl’s mascara, dirty sheets wadded up in the laundry basket, toys drying in the dishwasher, used prophylactics in the trash can by the bed. The niche in the shower contained bottles that weren’t mine and weren’t his. When I kissed him on returning home, I might have tasted his lover on his tongue. Of course, none of this bothered me. I had the reverse of the coin as well. Other men dominated me in our bedroom. I submitted my body to them.

At night, we shared our stories. Hearing him tell me how he had spanked, then fisted, then fucked another girl while I held his penis in my mouth left my pussy sodden. When I told him about my adventures, invariably, he would slap my pubis. Who owns this cunt? he would ask. You do, I would answer. When his erection reclaimed my pussy, which was also his pussy, the force of orgasm was intense. We used condoms with our others. Only he came inside me. He came only inside me. For the final act, I lapped the semen that had spilled from me, onto the sheets. It made the wet spot on the bed even bigger. I liked falling asleep on top of it.