***Writer’s Note: This a direct continuation to ‘I Hate-Fucked My Ex After Helping Her Move’ and I believe it is best enjoyed if the first piece has been read recently. Enjoy!***
“What’s this?” I ask.
She sits up on her knees, looking down at me, a devilish smile on her face.
“That’s your key.”
I lift myself up on my elbows, grabbing the envelope as it slips down my side. “Are you serious? You want me to move in with you?”
“Well…I mean…” She searches for the right words, “Not today or anything. Some day, yeah, maybe. It just feels right to me, you know?”
I flick the envelope with my fingers a few times. “I don’t know.”
She looks away from me and starts to rub her elbow. “I get it. It’s kind of a lot.”
“I’m not saying no.” She stops rubbing. A small smile comes back to her face.
“You just need to think about it. That’s fair. I get it.”
“Yeah.” I say it gently. Her eyes light up when I say it. She leans down and kisses me, rubbing her nose across mine when she pulls back.
“I’ll be right back,” she says as she climbs off the bed. I watch her naked body walk out the bedroom. My head flops back down on the mattress. I hold the little envelope up in front of my eyes. The side of my face that had been slapped a little while ago starts to sting again. I put the envelope down and rub my cheek.
She comes back carrying our beers in one hand, her phone in the other. “I couldn’t remember which one was yours and mine,” she says apologetically.
“I guess it doesn’t really matter now, huh?”
She laughs as she sits back down on the mattress. “Yeah, I thought so too.” She hands me a bottle and clinks it with her own. We drink. She lays back perpendicular to me, resting her head on my stomach. Her hair and neck are damp with sweat on my naked body. I brush her shoulder with the back of my fingers.
She holds up her phone, periodically sipping from her beer as she navigates through it. I lean my head back and stair at the ceiling for a little while. “Oh, wow,” she says. I lift my head and look at her. She turns to look at me with a big smile on her face.
“Look at us.” Her voice goes up an octave when she says it. She scooches over so that we’re side by side. Her head’s resting on my shoulder. I’ve missed this. She holds up her phone so I can see.
It’s a picture of us our freshman year. We’re sitting on the hood of her car, she’s sticking her tongue out and making a peace sign, I’m scrunching up my face like a doofus, the late afternoon sun shining on us. “I remember this one,” she says.
“Yeah,” I say. “I think we took this at the end of our first week of classes.”
“Hmm…definitely has Friday energy, doesn’t it?”
“We must have only known each other for a few days by that point,” I muse.
“I already knew we’d be best friends. Aww, and that baby face of yours.” She looks up at me and brushes my beard. “I like this, though.” She pecks a kiss on my chest and settles back to flip through photos.
“Oh god,” I say when she lands on one from Halloween.
“No way!” she calls out. It’s her, but with skin painted a sickly green, a long black shawl brushing down to the floor from atop a big fake hump on her back.
“Your witch costume.”
She lets out a big belly laugh. “I forgot about this!”
“It’s hideous,” I tease.
“It’s inspired,” she corrects. She swipes.
“Christ…” I say. Another Halloween picture. This one’s of me. I’m dressed as Rey from The Force Awakens, complete with hairloops and big fake muscles bulging under fabric arm wraps.
“She’s a cutie,” she sneers. “I’d let her bypass MY compressor.”
“Shut up,” I say lightly. “I can’t believe you talked me into that.”
“Everybody thought it was great.” She swipes through more pictures for a few minutes. We snicker from time to time, sipping on our slightly-cooler-than-room-temperature beers. She comes to a photo that makes her stop. “Oh…”
It’s us. We’re facing away from the camera, standing on top of a parking garage looking into the sunset, her head on my shoulder, our fingers interlocked in a tight grip. I feel a pit grow in my stomach when I see it.
“Last day of sophomore year,” she says. She sneaks a peek at me and must see something of the torment in my eyes. She closes the photo and opens up my Facebook profile. “There’s a handsome man. Where’d you get that done?”
It’s the last headshot I had taken before I stopped going to auditions. “I did a show after college. One of the other actors was a photographer. She took it.”
“It’s really good”, she says. It’s just okay. She swipes, “Huh. Who’s that?”
It’s me and another girl. She has her face pressed against mine. We’re smiling wide. “She was in the show too,” I say.
“You two were together?”
“For a few months. She went to get her MFA out of state. I stayed here.”
“She’s pretty,” she says out loud, but her tone means ‘I think she looks like a cunt.’
The girl in the photo’s actually a real sweetheart.
“Any other ex-girlfriends you want me to beat up for you?” she asks light-heartedly.
“No, just her.”
She looks at me when I say that. “Nobody else?”
“No. Nobody.” I say it quietly.
She puts her phone down and rolls over and rests her chin and elbow on my chest. She keeps her eyes on mine. “I’m sorry,” she says. “For everything.” She reaches up and gingerly runs a ringer along the pink mark on the side of my face where she’d struck me. I don’t say anything. We sit in silence for a little while.
“It’s okay,” I say. I don’t know if I mean it or not. She smiles sadly at that, hearing the conflict in my voice. Then she wrinkles her nose. She lifts herself up and sniffs at her armpit.
“Oh, I’m stinky.” She gets up on her knees and takes the last swig of her beer. “I need a shower.” She eyes me invitingly.
“I guess I could use one too.” She takes my hand in hers and pulls me up off the bed. She leads us to the bathroom. The bottles clink together on the counter when we set them down. Water sprays from the showerhead as she turns the faucet. She reaches up and pulls the tie away from her ponytail. Her brown hair tumbles halfway down her back. She’s still holding my hand when she steps in, pulling me with her. The water’s warm, on its way to hot. I close the shower door behind me.
She tilts her head back into the water. It soaks through her hair and she shakes it back and forth so the wet strands sit messily over her face. She squints and smiles at me through the tangle. It’s adorable.
I always thought she was beautiful. I always thought she was talented. I didn’t fall in love with her until she’d shown me her goofy side for the first time. I step in and press my body to hers. The water’s washing over both of us now. Steam starts to drift up from the floor. I kiss her lips between little tangles of hair. It’s a short one. We kiss again. This one lingers.
She reaches up and brushes the hair out of her face. She opens the shower door, leaning out toward the ‘BATHROOM’ box, dripping water all over the floor. I hold her waist so she doesn’t slip. She fumbles in the box for a few moments and pulls out a bar of soap. She closes the door as she leans back in, the cooler air of the bathroom rushing in behind her.
She runs the bar across my chest until a thick lather starts to run down my stomach. She steps in closer, reaching around me, scrubbing my back. We kiss again. She presses her breasts against me. My cock rises ever so slightly. She pulls away from the kiss and slips the bar of soap into my hand. She turns around, brushing her hair in front of her shoulder so her back is exposed to me. A lather spreads across her as I work, little soap bubbles following the stream of water down and between her cheeks. I lift her arms into the air, scrubbing her armpits and kissing them after the water washes the soap away. She giggles at that.
“Okay, sailor,” she says. “Time for the sexy part.” She reaches up and pulls the showerhead off its mount. She takes a few moments to wash off any remaining suds that are still clinging to us, then adjusts the nozzle for a spray with higher pressure. She lifts a foot onto a ledge in the shower, lowering the head to her pussy. She spreads herself open with her free hand and sprays the water up into herself. The cum from our last fuck starts to dribble out of her.
“Oh yeah,” she says, adopting her very best 90s pornstar voice. “It’s so fucking hot…” She makes an exaggerated ‘Oh’ face and starts moaning loudly.
I snort at the act, and she breaks character in momentary laughter. She recovers quickly, though. “Oh, yeah. You like watching your thick hot load gush out of me?” She lifts the showerhead away and a loud queef escapes her. Her eyes go wide and she holds a hand to her mouth as she convulses with laughter. We’re both cackling like lunatics now. She has tears running down her face. She can’t catch her breath. She slips and nearly breaks her neck before I catch her. She’s laughing even harder now. She buries her face in my neck, giggling. I take the showerhead from her hand and hang it back on its mount. With the water washing over us again, I put my arms around her and wait for our laughing fit to pass.
She sighs as I start to gently rock us left and right. “This is nice,” she says. I reach a finger under her chin and tilt her face up to look at me. I kiss her. I feel her hand slide up to the back of my head. I run a hand down her stomach and find her clit. She lets out another sigh and gently bites my lip. I press her back against the tiled wall and feel a shiver spread across her body at its cool touch. I bite her neck. I sink down and run my tongue up between her breasts.
“Mmm…” is all the sound she makes as she places a hand atop my head. I take one of her nipples in my mouth, release it, then get down on my knees. I kiss her clit. I slide my tongue up the right side of her pussy, then down the left. I grab the back of her knee and raise her leg over my shoulder. I slip two fingers into her. “Oh, god,” she sighs.
I close my lips around her clit and run tight circles around it. I press up into her G-spot. She takes a firm grip on my hair. I change the rhythm of my tongue and run it up and down. Her hand tugs at my scalp. She likes it, then. My fingers push harder. She likes that too. She pulls my free hand up to cup her breast. She holds it there, imploring me to squeeze with her touch. I flick my tongue on her clit more quickly now. She squirms.
“Oh, you’re really good at that,” she says. I can hear the smile in her voice. She tastes like I remember. My cock is straining, now. I hurry. “Ahh!” Her pussy tightens around my fingers, a shiver runs up her spine. “That. More of that.” She intertwines her fingers with those of the hand on her breast. I flick my fingers over her G-spot and she doubles over, almost sending us both through the glass door. She catches herself, barely, and quakes in my arms as we wait for her to finish cumming. She steadies herself with both hands on my head, and lowers her leg. “Good boy,” she pants.
I rise up and kiss her hard. I lick her lips. She finds the bar of soap we’d lost in our fit of laughter and picks it up. She makes a thick lather in her hands and sets it on a shelf under the showerhead. She runs her soapy hands up and down my cock, brushing against my balls whenever she reaches the base. Now it’s my turn to sigh. She reads my face for signs of direction, but she already knows the path to my orgasm is pretty straightforward.
She increases the pressure of her grip while quickening the speed of her pumps. I lean forward almost drunkenly as waves of pleasure spread through my body. I try to kiss her. She smacks her lips to mine with a wicked grin on her face. I have to steady myself with a hand on top of the shower door. “I want you to cum for me,” she says. I hold the back of her head with my other hand, and press my forehead to hers. “Come on,” she whispers. She strokes me faster and faster, listening to the panting of my breath. Then she stops stroking altogether and presses her hands firmly against the base of my shaft while she squeezes.
“Fuck!” I moan. She lets out a laugh as my cock erupts, shooting spurts of cum onto her stomach. She kisses me.
“Do you love me?” she asks.
“I love you.” My body’s so saturated with dopamine at the moment that I think I might actually mean it. She moves her grip along my shaft, squeezing the whole way. The last trickle escapes me and runs down to her fingers. She takes her hands off my cock and gives me the bar of soap again.
“Mind washing me off, again?” she asks.
After we finish bathing ourselves for real, she grabs a pair of towels from the box so we can dry off. She leaves the bathroom, toweling her hair as she heads back for the bedroom. I stay behind to finish. I hear the tearing of packing tape as another box is opened, followed by her voice, “I don’t think I have any clean clothes that’ll fit you. We can figure something out though.”
“It’s alright,” I call back. “I can just put my clothes back on and change when I get home.”
“I don’t want you to have to put your sweaty stuff on again after you just took a shower, though. They’ll feel all yucky.”
“It’s okay, really.” She’s the only person I know who still says ‘yucky’.
“Do you want to stick around? I can order something from Postmates.”
I feel dry enough, and debate on whether or not to cover up with the towel or walk out nude. I tie it around my waist. “Yeah, I guess I could eat.” I step out and head for the bedroom.
“Okay, great! Hey, if you’re gonna stay, we can put our clothes in the wash and watch a movie or something while-”
“Is that my shirt?”
She stops, and looks at me, a puzzled look on her face. She’s bent over wearing a gray sweatshirt with one foot looped through a pair of yellow panties. “What?” She looks at the sweat-soaked shirt on the floor that she’d stripped off of me earlier, misunderstanding my meaning.
“That’s my sweatshirt.”
“Oh.” She pulls her panties up the rest of the way. She rubs her elbow. “Yeah, I guess it is. I forgot about that.” Then her face lights up and she’s smiling at me. “It’s been my favorite night shirt for years now.” I can see the elation in her eyes clear as day. The symbolism she’s extracting from this moment. It’s a sign. I’m the one. I’ve always been the one.
I fold my arms. I’m trying not to picture all the guys who’ve fallen asleep next to her while she was wearing it.
“So what do you want?” she asks, picking up her phone. “I kind of want Panda.”
I watch as she pads past me on bare feet into the kitchen. “I don’t know what I want.”
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ua96c9/part_ii_i_hatefucked_my_ex_after_helping_her_move