A now vague number of years ago, I broke up with my then long-term girlfriend and had an awkward situation whereby we continued to live in the same flat while I tried to find someone to take over my share of the tenancy.
By a curious turn of fate, a then rapidly expanding social media site had put me back in contact with a girl I’d completed my undergraduate degree with a couple of years earlier.
Victoria (Vic), was a runner with a runner’s body: almost entirely flat. While her physical appearance was nothing to write home about, she did seem incredibly friendly in our initial exchanges and, weirdly, somewhat overfamiliar with what I’d been up to in the preceding years. However, when she happened to mention she was looking to move into a place in the city centre, I spotted an opportunity. It’s fair to say I got more than I bargained for.
She seemed positive about the potential for the move. This was over the Christmas break. My ex-girlfriend was back home at her parents’ for three weeks (a long holiday due to studying for a masters) so I had my soon to be former flat all too myself to pack my things, as I’d already found a new place to live. It was a strange Christmas break. I packed my stuff and felt bittersweet about the whole thing. My friends were often either busy or away with family so social time was quite limited. That was when I got the text from Vic:
“What are you doing for New Years’ Eve?”
Nothing, as it turned out. And so it was I ended up going to a small pub just out of the city centre with her and a few of her friends/acquaintances to see in the new year. Now it turned out the thing with Vic was she was quite quirky. Frankly, more than a little bit awkward at times. A real old-fashioned English girl: double-barrelled surname, exquisite manners, deferential to everyone and able to kill a conversation and atmosphere dead. A perfect new flatmate for my ex, if you ask me…
“Yes,” I thought, giddy with the thought of burdening my ex with this black hole of a personality, “I need to make sure I seal the deal and convince her to move in.”
I put my plan into action.
We decided to leave together shortly after midnight, as neither of us were feeling the vibe: Vic because of her personality and me because of my post-relationship ennui and naturally I offered to walk her home (gent that I was back then, before my days of whoremongering and vice).
As we reached the centre, I made sure I sold the idea to her completely: think of how central you will be! It’s a great flat at a great price! etc. Then it occurred to me, probably later than it should have:
“Actually, it’s only 5 minutes from here. I know it’s late, but do you want to come and have a quick look now?”
Of course she agreed! Why wouldn’t she? I mean, with it being so close and all…
Off we traipse and I get her inside and upstairs. Give her the tour. Nice living room, plenty of space in the kitchen. Then, naturally, “This will be your bedroom…”
Let’s just get this out of the way now: of course we fucked. We fucked until the sun came up and I mean that literally. We arrived at about 1am and it was winter so you should be impressed by how much fucking went on.
But it wasn’t right at that moment. “This will be your bedroom…” led to her sticking her head in for a quick look and simply replying, “Nice!”.
That was almost it. Turns out I didn’t have much more in the way of moves than she had sparkling conversation. She had another quick look at the living room and then it felt natural for her to leave and me to walk her home. I locked up, we got downstairs and as I went to open the main door to the building something changed. It was like there was a heavy electrical charge in the air.
I’m still not sure what happened first: my dick twitching in my pants or our mouths suddenly being on each other, tongues rubbing vigorously together as we ran our hands over the other person’s body.
I was being a little unfair earlier when I said she was entirely flat, she did have two soft bumps up top that were threatening to break from an A cup to a B cup someday soon. I roughly squeezed them, my hand under her top but over her bra and Vic’s cut-glass English accent giving me all the encouragement I needed.
“Oh god! That’s lovely!”
Seems it had maybe been a while since Vic last had her tits kneaded.
“Shall we go back upstairs?”
There it was again: the accent! I didn’t hesitate and fumbled for my keys to unlock the door, her continuing to try to kiss me passionately as I struggled to get the door open. We got halfway up, to the first wide landing, before the staircase turned, before she lost her balance while walking up the stairs backwards, still kissing me and stroking my dick over my jeans. She landed on her backside, legs splayed, skirt riding up to the very top of her thigh. The crotch of her tights was clear, with the vague colour of her knickers visible underneath.
Another electric charge filled the air. I tugged at her tights and knickers and got them both down only as far as her ankles. Still, this was far enough to expose her pussy. Ingeniously, I didn’t dive straight in but used the leverage of her bum perching on the edge of the stair to rock her onto her back, her legs now pointing up into the air, her knickers and tights bound together and working to limit how wide she could spread her legs. It was perfect. Now I dove in, not bothering with any gentle stuff but lapping at her like a dog, my tongue making her wetter with every stroke. I reevaluated and decided that maybe she had anticipated getting laid soon after all, as the only hair was on her mound, her lips bare and responsive to the rough touch of my tongue. Her juices mixed with my saliva, leaving a glistening sheen, clean and ready for action.
I helped her out by rolling her onto her side so she could clumsily start to help herself up. Vic found herself in a position I’ve since christened ‘Inadvertent Doggy’, her arse pointing out and leaving me unable to resist adding a quick lick inside her crack, causing her to yelp out in surprise. I have no idea if the neighbours on this floor, their door a yard or two away from all this, were in and if they were in how much they heard. Frankly, I was too horny to care.
Finally we made our way up the final flight of stairs and made it in through the door. I steered her deliberately into the room I’d share with my ex, justifying it with that was the room where I knew we had an old spare box of condoms. This was true but… maybe not the only reason we were in there!
Once inside the flat, Vic had quickly undressed fully, her rail thin body landing on all fours on the bed I’d shared for three years with my ex, both holes presented to me. I slipped a condom on and climbed on top of her, almost literally mounting her. I didn’t want to be on my knees, I almost wanted to be squatting over her, my dick angled in a way that my body weight would push it hard against the front of the inside of her cunt with every thrust, perfect for hitting her g-spot. Vic didn’t need her clit played with to get her going. She was nearly there and I was going straight for the g-spot.
Bullseye.
I hit that mark very early on on the level of profanity coming out of her mouth shot up several gears, her crystal clear diction punching out every last word: how she was totally ‘full’, how my cock felt ‘nice and thick’ and, more bizarrely, how she wanted me to ‘slap \[her\] pussy’.
The only slapping going on was my balls against her arse as my cock pushed her down with every thrust. Needing some variety I pulled out and told her to get on her back and get her legs behind her head. She was only too keen to oblige. Not two months previously I’d had my ex in this same position on this same bed. This time, it was Vic screaming with delight as I lowered myself down so my weight held her legs right back, allowing me to penetrate her as deeply as possible, while kissing her once again. A few more minutes of this and I started to cum, my grunts and frantic final thrusts tipping her just over the edge.
Being a younger man, gifted of stamina and indifferent to sexual taboo, I proceeded to fuck Vic in many of the places my ex and I had boned in our time together:
* Stood bent over the kitchen counter, her hands scrabbling around for something to hold onto.
* On her soon to be ‘new’ bed, Vic bouncing enthusiastically on my cock, squatting on me this time and letting me diddle her increasingly hard clit.
* In the living room, the blinds open and lights on, her tits pressing against the glass of the tall windows overlooking the street, drawing the attention of at least one passer by below.
I was able to edge myself along through much of the above and allowed myself the ultimate new year’s gift of finishing all over her face while she kneeled at the foot of my old shared bed. I was down on my haunches slightly, stroking my dick hard in my first while pulling back her now sweaty hair, tipping her head up and covering it with one of the top 3 loads I’ve ever produced.
We didn’t go to bed and we didn’t sleep: she just washed her face, had a little small talk, gave me a peck on the cheek and left.
Our text exchanges afterward were less awkward than I thought they might be and, weirdly, she still wanted the room! She’d moved in within two weeks. We had sex twice more after that, once at my new place (boring, vanilla) and once in the toilets of the pub she worked in (better, but an acquired taste). I was happy to leave it at that and explore other options, free of my tenancy and free of any binding commitment to fidelity.
Another girl I was (sort of) seeing knew about all of this, as she loved to hear the gory details. Her words have stuck with me to this day:
“Well, at least they’ll have something to talk about…”
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/vhnmqr/raunchy_sex_with_my_exgirlfriends_new_flatmate_mf