Helping a Friend Get Over Her Ex [MF]

The bra was hanging loosely over the back of the sofa. One cup was inverted, the other contained a damp sock, which Ailsa reached down and plucked out, stretching it out from its tangled knot like dough and tossing it onto her clothes horse. She left the bra though. It was green and traced with a lacery of black thread, like a butterfly’s wings. The cups were vaguely translucent, and I believed if she were wearing it, it wouldn’t leave much to the imagination.

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“Nice bra,” I said, picking it up between two fingers as I reclined on the couch. Guess not everyone always knows the perfect thing to say, like me.

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“Thanks,” she shouted from the kitchen. Her voice was only a little raised, and still chimed musically. I ran my fingers over the silky material a little more than I needed to as I hung it up to dry alongside the sock. Next to it was a faded grey T-shirt emblazoned with a decaying transfer of her favourite Animal Crossing character, Mr. Resetti. “Simon never once noticed me in it.”

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“More fool him,” I said. She sat down next to me and handed me a glass of cola that was at least three quarters vodka. “I’m sorry.”

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“Ugh, it’s fine,” she said, sliding her glasses vigorously up the bridge of her nose with her thumb. Her eyes were red, and her lips tense. I knew it wasn’t fine. “It’s like tonight,” she said.

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Tonight had been the usual, to be fair to her. Simon, Ailsa and I had dinner plans. I’d met them there, only to find that them was Ailsa and Simon’s apologies. His friend had just got a new pool table, and that had taken precedence. While the reason for his absence varied a lot, his cancelling without notice was a regular thing.

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“He’s always like that,” I said. “A bit spur of the moment, but he’s a nice guy. He’s like a carefree puppy, running from one fun thing to the next.”

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“None of the fun things is me, though,” she said, and she looked at me for just a little too long.

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I was intensely aware of her body, as if it had a gravitational pull on my own. I could almost sense the warmth I would feel if I touched her. She had a lush, lovely body. The bra, I hadn’t failed to notice, was an E cup. She had voluptuously curving thighs I imagined would yield like meadow-grass under my touch, and soft lips the colour of coral. She was a fascinating combination, Ailsa – the hair and interests of a tomboy, and her friends were mostly male and of decidedly nerdy leanings, and I had never once seen her wear make up; yet she loved little more than getting dressed for a formal party and her collection of make up could have filled several department stores.

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These were my impressions of her at the time, and I am ashamed of them. I understand her better now.

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I thought about how much we’d had to drink at dinner, and how much at the bar after, and how much I’d sipped of the vodka and coke she’d poured me. Enough to pretend our judgement was impaired, but not enough to actually let us go through with it.

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“He’s very lucky to have you,” I said, and I booped her on the nose with my index finger. “And he’ll realise it some day.” She hugged me, and I heard her inhale my scent.

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“Thank you,” she said, the words muffled by my neck.

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“It’s going to be fine,” I told her, patting her back.

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They broke up two and a half months later.

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It was a few weeks after that that Ailsa took me out to dinner again. Invited me at least, because I paid. And inevitably it led back to hers.

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Her hair had grown out a bit, and hung down to brush her shoulders. She kneeled next to me on the couch, rocking back and forth as the cushions shifted under her awkwardly distributed weight and tried to teach me some playground hand slap game that I still do not even remotely grasp.

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Finally she gave up and collapsed back onto the couch, crashing her head onto my shoulder. She took my arm and wrapped it around her. “God you’re an idiot,” she said.

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“And you’re a charming host,” I told her.

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She laughed. “I had a nice night,” she said. “Thank you.”

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“I did too.” I wondered if she was ready for me to leave, if this was a hint for me to go. “I guess it’s getting late.”

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“Not too late,” she said.

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The scent of her body wafted over me. She wore some kind of fruity or floral spray, the kind that costs very little and resembles the scents it claims to project even less. Underneath was the musky smell of her skin. “I’m going to have to start dating again,” she said, then groaned.

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“You are,” I told her. “It’ll be fine. There are probably like two or three good men in this town. It’ll only take a couple of decades to find them.”

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She stared at me and stuck her tongue out. It was tiny and pointed, like a kitten’s. I smiled at her and brushed the hair off the cheek it was clinging to and she flushed.

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“I’m looking a bit forward to it,” she said. “You know,” she stopped.

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“What?”

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“Never mind,” she said. “Actually fuck it. I haven’t had sex in over a year.”

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“Well fuck something at least,” I told her. “I’d be literally insane right now.”

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“No matter what I did, what I wore… he never even looked at me,” she said. Her anger was flaring. She’d been with Simon for half a decade – it wasn’t as if she was going to be over it. “And you know what,” she said, and her voice turned throaty with emphasis, “I love sex. All of it.”

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“Who doesn’t?” I said. I had no idea what I wanted. Obviously I knew I wanted her, but did my lust matter more than our friendship?

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Ailsa reared back so she could look at me. “No, I’m serious,” she said. “The whole thing. Every part.” She was kneeling on the couch now, on all fours, face turned to me. She’d worn a sweater to dinner, crew necked but it hung down heavily from the weight of her breasts. I’d have given all the money in my wallet for her to have had a V neck on right then. “I love that moment that seems to last forever just before your lips meet for the first time. I love feeling a man’s hands on my body, first on the places anyone could touch, and then where only he is allowed to touch me. I love feeling a guy’s cock in my hands, soft at first and then growing harder and harder. I love wondering how big it is.” She paused and I swallowed. “Hey Joel – how big is it?”

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I breathed out slowly and looked her straight in the eyes, so she could see how much I needed her. “You’re welcome to find out.”

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Her body seemed to melt against mine and her mouth, tasting of vodka and dinner, crashed onto my own. Our tongues danced together. My hands grasped her waist, caressing the soft flesh through her sweater, then slipped underneath it. Her skin burned. She broke the kiss to remove her glasses and throw them in the vague direction of the table behind her. I took the chance to slip the sweater over her head.

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She was wearing the green bra, and her pale breasts were magnificent in it. Her creamy flesh spilled out the top in a plump swell, and through the material I could see her big brown areolae and huge nipples. Seeing the bra, I wondered if she’d planned for this to happen all night.

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Ailsa straddled me and began to grind herself back and forth on my lap. She was moaning, and I slipped down the cups of her bra so I could play with her nipples. She began to squirm as my fingers traced small spirals in towards her nipples and then brushed back and forth over them, and her grinding against me turned frantic. I began to kiss her neck, and her hands closed on my shoulders and clenched down like talons, pulling me hard against her. She gasped once, high and fierce, and then showered me with kisses. “That’s never happened before,” she said.

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“Are you done for the night?” I asked her, with a look of challenge in my eye.

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“Fuck no,” she said. “That was only a small orgasm.”

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I desperately wanted to see her come hard, I decided. “Take your jeans off,” I told her.

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She rolled off me and lay against me on the couch. She unclipped the popper on her trousers and began to ease them down. She was wearing unadorned black panties that didn’t match the bra at all. Maybe she hadn’t planned out this evening.

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I placed my palm on the crotch of her panties. They were soaking. I began to grind gently back and forth, around and around. Ailsa’s eyes were closed, and her head was tilted back, towards the ceiling, her mouth quirked in a moue of pleasure. I slipped my hand down the waistband of her panties through the tight nestles of her thick bush and felt the swollen heat of her cunt lips. I ran the tip of my finger from the base of her cunt slowly up to her clit, which I stroked as lightly as I could. All the while I kissed her lips, her neck, her breasts, her nipples. She almost growled with pleasure.

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I played with her voluptuous body like that for perhaps quarter of an hour, slowly letting her pleasure build and enjoying her responses. Finally, I stopped touching her and slid to the floor, then began to kiss my way up her legs. I grazed my tongue over the inside of her left thigh and was heading for her pussy when she stopped me.

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“No,” she said.

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“No?” I asked. I planted a kiss just above her pussy and tried to look at her as endearingly as I could.

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She took my face in her hands. “I want to fuck you,” she said.

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“And I want to know how your cunt tastes,” I told her. She looked at me appraisingly. “We have all night,” I told her.

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She laughed. “I have maybe one more orgasm in me tonight,” she said. “And I really want to feel your dick inside me.”

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“Well you’ve convinced me.”

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Now it was Ailsa’s turn to force me back on the couch. I tried to undo my belt for her, but she slapped my hands away. “Let me unwrap my present,” she scolded me. “Do you have something big for me?”

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I shrugged. “I just hope I don’t disappoint you.” I tried to look nervous.

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“Oh Joel,” she said and kissed me. “It’s fine, it’s not that important. I just want to feel you inside me.”

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Her hands finally mastered the buttons on my trousers. They slipped in, small and eager, and grasped the shaft of my cock.

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“You bastard!” she said, laughing.

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“What?” I asked, cod innocent.

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“Oh yeah, what! Here you have me thinking I’m going to pull out some micro penis, and… wow.” She looked down at it. She seemed actually mesmerised. “It’s huge,” she purred.

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“Get closer,” I said. “Go say hello.”

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Ailsa bent over me and placed her lips on the thick head of my cock. Her tongue laved back and forth over the head, which twitched under her ministrations. She stretched her mouth so wide I could hear her jaw pop and swallowed the first inch. She suckled hard and slow on it, until I throbbed almost painfully. Ailsa forced her head down towards my lap, but she couldn’t take more than another inch. Her eyes were watering, and she looked almost panicked.

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“I’m sorry,” she said.

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“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “You’re not the first to struggle.” Her hands were working my shaft up and down.

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“It’s so thick,” she said. “Have you ever measured it?” I told her I had, and answered her follow up question. “Oh god,” she said. “Really?” She smiled at me. “I want to check that.”

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“Later,” I told her. Her cunt was resting on my bared thigh and I could feel the steaming heat and wetness of it. My cock throbbed in her hands, both of which she now employed upon it. I lifted her so she straddled me again. My cock bobbed up between our legs, and I pushed it down just enough so that the thick shaft pressed against her labia and spread them apart. “Let’s get it good and wet,” I said.

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Wordlessly she began to slide up and down, undulating against my cock. My whole body ached for her. I could feel my heart racing and my skin prickle with desire. I placed my hands under her big, round ass cheeks and spread them, kneaded them, rolled them. I lifted her, so the head of my cock was poised just below her cunt. We looked at each other.

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She bent to kiss me, and simultaneously thrust down slowly with her hips. My cock head entered her and she arched her back and shivered. Her hands clawed into me again. “Oh, you’re too thick,” she said.

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“Want to stop?”

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She kissed me with hunger. “No.”

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It took forever and I bottomed out with an inch and a half of my cock still outside her, but we got there, and she began to ride me. I dandled my hand over her clit, stroked her flanks, played with her breasts until she had come twice. Then, with a tightness building within me, I rolled us on the couch, so my body lay atop hers. I thrust into her with slow, long, deep thrusts, pounding forcefully. When she came again her cunt clenched down on me, and that was enough to set off my own orgasm.

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A few months later, she found a new boyfriend. I like him, he’s a good fit for her, and he likes me. When I visit them, just sometimes, I sit beside Ailsa on that couch, and I look at her and she looks at me, and I think we’re both remembering that night.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/g1gzup/helping_a_friend_get_over_her_ex_mf