From Sad to Sore [MF]

The past few months have been tumultuous with my ex as he attempted to regain my trust in an effort to be his again. His obsession, lies, gifts, secrets, arguments — it all came to a head the other night when I just began to believe him only to find his dating app, conversations and videos with other women.

The argument was different, marked with much needed finality and validating evidence. Where I used to feel sadness was replaced with a general desire to not be alone. To immediately make up for lost passion — or, at least a half decent romp before bed if that wasn’t asking for too much.

Fortunately, a friend of mine was up. The complete opposite of what I’d been used. I was met at the door by a man whose stature I clearly had forgotten. Towering over me, upon his embrace I was greeted with the warmth of whiskey on his breath, cigarette smoke intertwined with his cologne. I admired his latest woodwork as he remembered my love for Otis Redding. Looking at him, disheleved hair, scruff, bright blues tired but twinkling as we cozied up to one another, I wondered if his kindness would result in yet another man who is far too gentle in bed for my preference.

And yet, as his hand squeezed my thigh and the whiskey began to settle into my system, it didn’t quite matter. I found myself moving off of the couch to make my place between his legs. I soon uncovered that this seemingly gentle man was giant everywhere it mattered; and, he soon uncovered that a woman who can take his entire length does exist…even if it means wiping the tears from her cheeks when his hips encourage her to test the limits of her throat.

I would have stayed down there until he came if I weren’t selfishly wondering how it would feel to have him inside of me. I’m not sure if I vocalized this. I was in a trance, in pure and obvious adoration and he enjoyed taking his turn to tease me. Switching spots with me, tasting me, sweet and slowly. His fingers touched me as if it weren’t our first time, knowing exactly how to coax the pleasure out of me until my legs were trembling against him.

Only then was he willing to take me to his room. The fire illuminating our faces as he slipped the tip in, finding my throat with a light grasp. His only hesitation was to ask me for a safe word. A safe word, from the man with the kind eyes!

Grapefruit. In case you were wondering.

In a moment we were both gasping at how well our bodies fit together. Our eyes meeting, knowing exactly what sensation was flowing through the other. Expressing it between our kisses, his growls, my whimpers.

He didn’t stop until I soaked his sheets. We came, and came throughout the morning until I needed to leave in the afternoon. I had never felt so spectacularly sore.

And just like that, I realized I care more about mind blowing sex than I care about my ex.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/y5lt8i/from_sad_to_sore_mf