[M]y post-break-up revenge

(Meta: I’ve been hesitant about posting these things for a while because, well, anonymity and whatnot. However, I’ve occasionally used this, and many others, as inspiration for various prompts on /r/dirtypenpals or the like, or let others use it as inspiration for their stories. A friend of mine from /r/dirtypenpals encouraged me to try it out nonetheless, since old enough events are likely enough not to be problematic anymore. Writing all this has been super fun and I am now officially in love with this subreddit! Here it goes!)

You know how dealing with a break-up from a long-term relationship sucks? Especially when you put a lot of soul into it? *Especially* when you’re young, and it’s your first long-term relationship? And *especially* when it ends up because your long-term partner is cheating on you?

Well, I dealt with a lot of “especiallies” and I tolerated it all because that’s the nice thing to do. I’m not a spiteful person. I do believe that one of the reasons why modern society is so fucked up is that nobody drinks from their skulls of their dead enemies anymore, but I also think that anyone can make a mistake, and that not every petty act deserves revenge. And many just aren’t worth the effort of revenge.

But some acts are. So way back like 15+ years ago, I broke up with my girlfriend — let’s caller her Amy (obviously not the real name, but it’ll do). We’d known each other, and had been together, since high school. We’d been together for about five years and I put a lot of effort into making it work. During our final year together I was putting myself through school, working full-time, and if I had any time left before falling asleep on my feet, I’d spend it with her. Fortunately, my friends were very understanding. Hers weren’t. Hers were total cunts.

Now this is a whole other story, but in order to get the context in which all this happened, I have to give you the abridged version of how my lovely high school sweetheart decided to dump me.

One spring during my second year of university (I was one year older than her), they rented a cabin for a week, and I was invited to come along. It was absolutely bloody terrible — we were in the middle of the most beautiful wilderness you’ve ever seen, and all these guys and gals would do is play poker and complain how the owner of the cabin was a cheapskate because he only had the basic cable packe. The second day I went on a hike — alone — and got back to have a fight about how I was all grumpy and ruining the fun for everyone.

Then, three days into it, one of her friends said she had some big family emergency, and we all decided to leave together. Except she had to pick someone up from the airport and someone had to give up their spot in the car. Being the only one who hadn’t grow up sheltered by rich parents, I was happy to give up my spot — I packed my backpack and she drove me to the nearest town, from where I hitchhiked, then got a bus, and got home dead-tired after 20 hours on the road, but relieved to be out of that mess.

Turned out they’d faked it all so I’d go. Everyone packed their bags along with me, but as soon as I left, they just unpacked everything and went on with their lives.

I figured that out when, after neither her nor her friends would answer my phone the following day, I called her parents, genuinely concerned that they might have had an accident or something. Her dad, equally confused, told me he thought we were staying for another few days. I realized something was fishy so I decided to wait for a bit.

Yep, it gets better. She spent the remaining days hooking up with one of her friends, which I found out from *another* one of her friends, who texted to tell me Amy is upstairs having at it with this guy “Tony”, and that I should expect a break-up text soon, thank God, because I was such a pain in the butt. The break-up text came a few hours later. When I asked Amy about her friend’s text, she just said something like “lol well you know Sally is mean but you really were mean on that trip, too, so maybe it’s not uncalled for?” or something like that.

At this point, I’m pretty fucking mad. We could have broken up in person. Instead, I got to go on the worst fucking camping trip ever, hitchhiked my ass so I wouldn’t disturb the happy campers from their poker game, and got dumped by text for a guy whose name wasn’t Chad but it might as well have been Chad. All after I’d spent the last two years literally cutting sleep hours so that I could be Amy’s rock and, you know, a good boyfriend in general. I could understand the break-up at this point — we were at that age when, as people grow up, they sometimes grow apart, too. But the way she’d done it wasn’t fair and I wasn’t about to let it pass.

Now, I’m sure most of you had an arch enemy back when you were in your freshman year. Amy had one, too. Hers — “Caitlyin” — was actually pretty great. Caitlyn was a bookish, nerdy, very sweet girl, whom I’d met at various parties, and we actually spent some time talking, too. Caitlyn and I were very good students, and she was very smart and well-read. We were working towards different majors but we were both smart enough to hold a conversation about things that the other was passionate about. It just didn’t happen too much with Amy hovering over my shoulder.

So a few days after the break-up, I get a hold of Caitlyn’s number and call her. And, in what would turn out to be a very inspired access of good faith, I decide it would be both stupid and extremely unfair to try to hook up with her just to get back at Amy. So, instead, I just tell her the whole story, and ask her if she’d be interested in a chance to get back at the person who is now our mutual enemy.

Turns out that was my biggest feat of diplomacy. Because a) Caitlyn totally wanted in, b) she told me she really appreciated that I didn’t try to play some stupid hook-up game because she’d have easily figured it out (and I’m sure she would’ve — see the part above about her being wicked smart) and c) it turned out Caitlyn was kinky as fuck. You know how what they say about quiet girls? Fuck yeah. But I’m getting a little ahead of myself here.

So we meet up with perfectly good (minus the revenge part) intentions. We went out for drinks genuinely thinking we’d try to find some embarrassing prank to play or some bad piece of gossip to spread or whatever.

*But*. Caitlyn was incredibly smart and kind and quirky. She lived on campus and didn’t have too many friends in town yet, either, so she was a little lonely. And I’d just been through a bad break-up and had not enjoyed serious, non-brain-dead conversation in years. So we hardly dicussed any pranks the first time we went out for drinks. The second time we discussed it for all of ten minutes, in the form of pillow talk. It took us another couple of weeks to get it out of our systems and finally get to the revenge part, which was actually a good idea — indeed, revenge is a dish best served cold. And here’s how we served it.

Amy’s birthday was coming up in about two months, and Caitlyn, bless her soul, managed to convince one of Amy’s friends that she thought this arch enemy thing had just gone too far. High school was one thing but they were basically adults at this point and it was just immature. So, before long, she and Amy shook hands, and she got herself invited to Amy’s birthday party.

Now, Caitlyn and some of Amy’s friends weren’t from our town, and they lived on campus. So Caitlyn works her magic and gets Amy’s friends from the dorm to throw her a small surprise party in one of the dorm rooms, just for the four or five of them, prior to the big party in the evening. This wasn’t hard to pull off: most of Amy’s “local” friends were her high school friends, who were *really* annoying (remember the camping trip?), so it was easy to convince the other ones to have a party without them.

They all had classes in the morning, but Caitlyn volunteered to stay behind in one of their rooms and put up the decorations and stuff. She was the best student in their class so missing one wouldn’t be a big deal. Of course, the idea was that Amy and her friends would come home not to a surprise party, but to me and Caitlyn having sex.

Our plan, however, had a big flaw. I showed up about one hour after they’d all left, and about three hours before the big event. The chances of two lovebirds in their very early twenties keeping their hands off each other for three hours are like zero. However, it would’ve been very anti-climactic if they’d walk in on us cuddling in bed.

Well, Caitlyn saved the day once more.

So the first thing she does after we’re done with the decorations is walk up to me, pull me by my shirt’s collar (I’m pretty tall and she’s petite and slightly chubby — think Ellen Page but with boobs and hips) and whispers “if you wanna have your revenge we’ll do it my way today”. At this point I’m already contemplating the thought of bending her over the bed and fucking her senseless and to hell with this whole revenge crap. But she had other plans.

Still hanging on to my shirt, she drags me over to the bed and shoves me on it, then walks across the room and *slowly* begins to take her clothes off, putting on a very convincing shy girl face. She’s wearing this really classy black lingerie that looks great on the, what, 0.05% of the population, who have *just* the right curves for it, and I’ve never seen someone so frickin’ hot and confident in my life.

Wearing nothing but her bra at this point, she comes back, climbs on top of me, takes off whatever clothes I stlil had on, and starts stroking my cock and teasing me with her tongue. She doesn’t take my cock in her mouth, though. Instead, after getting it wet enough, and still without undoing her bra, she slips it between her full and very appetizing breasts, and moves over me in the most intense titfuck I’ve ever had. I have no idea how long she did that — honestly, you could’ve asked me for my *name* at that point and all I’d do was mumble incoherently.

Then she looks at the clock, gets up, startled, and goes like holy fuck, look at the clock, we’ve still got like two hours to go, we gotta pace ourselves. Get dressed. I’m not exactly willing to get dressed at this point, so she grabs one of the Coke cans we’d brought for the party and pours it right over my very hard, throbbing cock, so that I’d “cool the fuck down”. Ice-cold coke tends to do that to you.

So we laugh about it for a while and clean up the spilled Coke from the floor — the sheets are unsalvageable by now. We just sit around talking for another half an hour or so, then she looks at me with a quirky smile and says you know, I have a better idea for that Coke thing. She climbs on my lap, grinding her hips and making me bury my face in her tits, and when I’m hard enough, she makes me stand up. She grabs another Coke can, then goes down on her knees and starts rubbing and sucking my cock, while pouring just a tiny stream of Coke on it — enough to suckle it off the head of my dick, and enough for the cold and slightly fizzy liquid to tickle me just a little.

I’m already clenching my fists, about to give her the proverbial “I’m gonna cum” tap on the thigh, when she pours out the rest of the Coke bottle on the floor and, taking her hands and her very playful tongue off me, she stands up and, feigning disappointment, just stares at the bottle and says “oh, shit, would you look at that, all the Coke’s gone, OH AND I FUCKING SPILLED IT. Come on, help me clean it up.”

Now, obviously, between cleaning up the stupid floor and getting dressed again and whatnot, my very massive erection goes away *again*. Slowly, but surely, another hour or so passes, and we’re now about an hour away from the whole party thing.

So we’re lying in bed and, out of the blue, she asks me what kind of porn I like watching. I throw in a few names (I honestly don’t remember which ones) but “she’s never seen those girls before” (right), so of course I have to show her. And we proceed to watch porn for like an hour. I mean, watching porn *by yourself* tends to be pretty exciting. Imagine how it is when someone’s sitting your lap, half naked, throwing all sorts of raunchy comments about the naked ladies on the screen, playing with her tits and occasionally going like “whoa dude we *have* to do that, too”. After a long, tortuous 45 minutes or so, her phone rings. She answers, mumbles something into the phone, hangs up, and tells me okay, they’re coming this way. Get up.

Not that I wanted to argue but at this point *any* kind of motion makes my balls hurt, so I don’t so much get up as drag myself up against the desk. By the time I’m up, she’s wearing nothing but an ankle bracelet and she’s tearing at my zipper. Thirty seconds later she has my cock down her throat and she’s bobbing her head up and down, but without using her hands. At all. Every time I tense up or clench my fists, she takes it out, smiles at me like a devil, and proceeds to lick and slurp at my balls, which are probably as blue as a bottle of ink, I can’t even dare to look. “Not yet,” she whispers every once in a while, only to wrap her lips around my cock again, looking at me with those devilish eyes that somehow say “I’ve never done this before, am I doing it right?” and “just wait ’till I get to the *really* kinky part” at the same time. Her black mascara is all over her face at this point, which is even hotter, and I swear to god, at this point it felt like if she’d as much as lay a finger on my cock, it would blow her head off.

Finally, when she hears steps on the corridor and the key in the door, she starts stroking my cock like mad, looks me right in the eye and says “you got like one chance at it baby so make it count.”

And, sure enough, I drop the biggest, massivest, most *fuckin’ painful* load I’ve ever blown in my life, right across her face, just as everyone’s walking in in. I mean, I had to hang on to the desk, it felt like my knees would give out, and it felt like someone was squeezing my balls with a vice.

And as my cum is dripping on her face — and I’m still squeezing it out of my cock — she just yells “HOLY FUCK MAN DID YOU NOT GET A SINGLE PROPER BLOWJOB IN THESE FIVE YEARS WHAT THE FUCK WHERE DID ALL THIS COME FROM???”

Needless to say my ex was extremely unhappy but I really didn’t care, I was in fucking blowjob heaven at that point. I have no idea what *exactly* happened next. I didn’t care about anything for another five minutes. The next thing I remember is me and Caitlyn lying on the floor, laughing our asses off.

We actually stayed together for about an year after that. Our schedules really diverged after that, and she went away for an year on a scholarship. We tried to make the long-distance thing work but it didn’t, and we gave up on it after a while. We still talk pretty often — the company I work for is a contractor for the company she works for, so we have lunch like once every couple of months (or, well, *had* lunch before the whole COVID thing). She’s married and has two kids now, and her husband is a really nice, smart, academic type guy who’d probably be pretty mad if he knew what we’d been up to many years ago.

Or who knows — you know what they say about the quiet ones ;).

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/ijdub5/my_postbreakup_revenge