I saw my ex after 8 years… [MF 30s] [Ex-boyfriend] [Romantic]

The email pinged into my inbox unexpectedly on a Monday night. *Hey*, it said. *How’ve you been? We should catch up*. My ex from eight years ago, from my first real relationship. I was caught at a strange crossroads in my life: I was single, coming out of a shitty two year relationship, in the middle of building a career I wasn’t sure I liked, and yet filled with hope for an exciting future in the new town I had moved to. I didn’t realize he now lived there too.

*We definitely should*, I replied. Nostalgia won out.

Friday night came along too quickly, and I walked into the restaurant filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension. We hadn’t seen each other in so long. I was taken aback immediately by how incredible he looked in that bookish unassuming way that he all the time had : the floppy hair, the definition in his arms under that corduroy button up, the pretty eyes that so often had burned into mine with meaning. We quickly fell into a familiar weave of conversation, and shared jokes and stories from years gone by. I was surprised at how relaxed I felt… until, in our reminiscing, he offhandedly mentioned a particular afternoon in school when we’d gotten high and fucked for hours. My mind flashed back to him pushing his flop of hair back as he laid on top of me, pressing his hard cock against my leg, and me, in my first lacy black lingerie set, bucking up to feel his bulge on me…. oh *fuck*.

I flicked back to the present and realized he was staring right into me, like he knew exactly what I was fantasizing about. His eyes challenged me to remember what it felt like to have his firm grip on my ass, feel his tongue against my stiff nipple. Pangs of longing twinged down to my pussy. I was getting wet, like embarrassingly so. I tried to change the topic and eventually we talked of other things. But something had changed: I couldn’t help but stare at his lips, the V at the base of his neck. He couldn’t stop finding excuses to brush against me. We made it through the charade of dinner and were out the door when I asked him to walk me home.

We both knew something was about to happen.

And because of that, it didn’t take much convincing to ask him up to my flat for a nightcap. In my foyer, I removed my coat, boots, and then the fluffy sweater I had been wearing to reveal my silk tank top underneath. I hadn’t bothered with a bra today and my nipples poked slightly through. As I walked to the tiny little bar cart I had set up in the corner of my living room, I began asking him about his work, my back turned to him. I didn’t realize he’d followed me to the cart until he reached from behind me to gently cup my tits and nuzzle his face into my neck. *I don’t want to talk anymore*, he whispered into my skin. I sighed in relief and leaned back against him.

He slowly began to massage my tits the way I all the time liked, feeling their heaviness. His fingers moved slowly to my nipples, pulling and tweaking at them to the tune of my gasps. His lips at my neck began to kiss and lick up to my ears. I ground back on him, absolutely loving the attention. He ran his hard hands down across my silk-covered stomach and over the mound of my pants, rubbing back and forth. I was completely turned on, and felt my pussy juices pool in my panties for real this time.

*I haven’t tasted you in so long, I need to know how you taste*, he insisted. We stumbled our way to the couch and his lips found mine as we sunk into the cushions. He kissed the same: passionately, my face held between his hands. Those hands moved to the front of my pants, impatiently freeing me, and pulling them off. My panties were pulled off in the frenzy too, and I watched him as he stared down at my absolutely soaked pussy. He pushed my silk top up over my tits, exposing me fully to him, and whispered: *you’re even more gorgeous now*. Since I had last seen him, I knew I had finally developed fully as a woman, and he clearly noticed, his gaze roving over my hips and heaving tits. He ran his hands all over me, pausing to take his pants off and letting his hard cock out.

He then bent his head down, giving my cunt a lick from ass to clit. I moaned loudly and held onto the couch for dear life. He dipped in again, licking me urgently, responding to my moans with a precision that drove me up the walls, adding first one finger, then two as I needed more more more. Soon, I couldn’t take it anymore and asked him to fuck me, *please*. He pushed himself on top of me again, his forearms framing my head, his weight fully against. I tipped my head up to kiss him deeply and wrapped my legs around his waist, urging him to guide himself inside of me.

I closed my eyes as I felt the head of his cock start to enter me, feeling pure ecstacy. I asked him to go slow*:* *I’m a little tight right now*, I said a bit nervously*, I haven’t had sex in a bit*. He kissed me then whispered into my ear: *Anything you need.* I could see it took him effort to not fuck me hard right away. He eased is cock in, rocking back and forth slowly, as my walls grew to let him in. I gasped and began to moan when the pleasure started becoming unbearable. *Fuck me*, I pleaded. *HARD.*

He took his cue and began thrusting his cock in and out of me faster, harder. The sounds of our fucking filled the air. We were still locked together, and I used my legs to keep him against me. I wanted to feel every curve of his body on me, his hips against mine, his cock as deep as feasible in me, to make up for all those lost years. The friction against my clit from all this contact grew until I began to yelp with each thrust. *I’m cumming, baby,* I gasped to him. He groaned and I felt his cock start to pulse and then explode in me as I came fucking hard. Just like old times.

I couldn’t catch my breath for the longest time. We just laid together there, him still in me, holding each other close. *We should catch up more often*, he sighed, smiling at me.

NSFW: yes

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