Two cups.
That was what had tipped me off.
I’d known, or at least suspected, for a month already, but the extra glass in the sink when I got home from class had confirmed what was already abundantly clear.
I didn’t say anything until the extra glass turned into an extra jacket hanging in her front closet.
I was home early, nothing had happened, I was supposed to be gone until later, it didn’t mean anything, he’d slept on the floor, nothing had happened, they’d only kissed, nothing had happened at all, they’d only cuddled for a bit, I wasn’t supposed to be there, he’s still on the floor in the room, I could go check for myself.
Something had happened, though. So, I left.
It was a smart move and the only one my roommates would allow me to make. A string of hazy encounters with their girlfriends’ friends would follow over the course of the next few, half-remembered months: a brunette with impossibly soft tits who wanted to do anything to make it up to me after mercilessly punishing me at flip cup, a blonde, at her birthday party, in her parent’s bedroom before the club, a sub for the varsity soccer team who never missed a chance to put her big thighs to work and squat my sorrows away, a vintage, punk girl with paperclips through her nipples who drank my cum in the room she rented above a bar in town. They, and the others, did an admirable job of making me feel whole again.
It just wasn’t the same though. I partied all night, every night, and ran miles and miles through the hangovers every morning, just to keep myself distracted. I threw myself into school, desperate to keep my mind from wandering back to her.
Sometimes it almost worked.
*******
“I miss you. I fucked up.”
It was after 2:00 am, but reading that text had me dressed and half running through the night before I could even think about what I was doing. The door was unlocked when I got there.
I found her sitting in the dark, on her bed. Covers and pillows mounded up around her, and a small pile of spent tissues littered the floor. Her big brown eyes, puffy and red from an evening spent crying, looked up at me hopefully.
We talked. Of course, we talked. It was nearly dawn before we ran out of words to say to each other. Eventually, she had only a handful more to offer:
“Are you going to fuck me now?”
I pulled the shirt over her head, letting her frizzy black hair fall messily back around her shoulders, and laid her back on the mattress to help rid her of the flimsy shorts she’d tried to sleep in. Her long, dark body stretched away in the half-light of an early dawn, and I was relieved beyond words to see everything just as I had left it. The little rhinestoned belly button ring, its silver butterfly dangling lazily against her brown abdomen. The neatly cropped landing strip that she meticulously trimmed every time she showered still lead down her puffy mound to what I had licked and sucked at for months on end before her little indiscretion. Her soft tits, rolling to each side of her chest as she laid back on the bed, were still speckled by little pinpricks of dark freckles; I’d once spent an entire night kissing each and every one. It had taken over an hour. The twinned swallows that I’d watched her get tattooed earlier that year still fluttered down from her collarbones, and her favorite poem could still be read in a fine scrawling script across her ribcage. Even the rose on her ankle was still blooming just as it had been nearly four months ago.
She might not have been mine anymore, but she was still herself, and I needed exactly that more than anything on earth.
I bowed down between her legs, laying myself flat and coming face to face with her picturesque pussy. As much as I always leaped at the chance to fuck her, nothing had ever competed with the sheer, greedy joy that I got from devouring her nightly. It had been nightly, too; she was a complete pillow princess when we had dated, and was openly selfish about needing my lips and tongue, but the God’s-honest truth was that I ate for my pleasure, and my pleasure alone.
And so I ate.
Arms wrapped up under her thighs to hold her down when she would invariably start to wiggle and writhe, I laid wet, open-mouth kisses against her, slowly bringing my tongue to bear, sliding it up and down her impetuous lips. Her soft breaths and the way that she touched her own body like she’d always done, were a sight for sore eyes. I’d let myself feel a moment of apprehension before setting in to devour her, wondering if that was something she’d like from me still, but we’d had each other a thousand times, and I knew when she was really enjoying herself. Her taut little clit poked itself out for me, reaching out for the attention she anxiously craved, so I brought her between my lips softly and sucked her back against my tongue when it felt right to do so.
This never took long to work; the woman drenching my chin began to huff and tremble predictably, intent, it seemed, on bucking away from letting me finish my job. I knew she couldn’t help it; her hips never behaved when my tongue was involved, so I held fast and sealed myself to her while her twitching pussy clenched and contracted spasmodically. She groaned like an animal in heat; low, guttural moans filled the room with a chorus of wet, squelching tongue-in-pussy noises.
At length, she rode through the ebbing waves of her breathless tremors and stretched her arms above her head with a very self-indulgent smile, vacantly staring at the ceiling with a small “Hmm” sound escaping her lips.
She kicked a leg over my head wordlessly and rolled over onto her belly, treating me to a sumptuous view of her jello-y ass cheeks; I crawled up and took a playful bite of her which elicited a loud, giggling squeal. Mounting her hips, I let my fat, firming cock rest between her buns while I enjoyed taking great, heaping handfuls of her tender flesh in my hands, She looked back at me with her mouth slightly agape, the barest of smiles suggesting that she was happy for the attention, and the promise of her favorite cock.
“Fuck me,” she demanded, burying her face in the pillow as I guided myself up into her. It was an effort to squeeze more than my head in, so I gripped myself firmly and smeared myself up and down her sticky folds, wetting myself on the spit I’d left to mix with her own excitement. Thoroughly lubricated, pushing back into her came more easily, though she still pulled handfuls of bedsheet toward herself and gritted her teeth; she’d only just convinced me that my cock was actually not remotely average after a few months together and that she wasn’t just saying that to be polite. It always took time to work myself into her.
By careful degrees and insistent inches at a time, she finally accepted everything that I had to give, pushing herself up to lean on her elbows triumphantly and looking back with a wicked little lip bite.
“That feels better,” she said as I rocked my hips back and forth. She hung her head heavily, eyes closed, hair curtained to hide her face from me. I leaned myself back to enjoy watching my cock, slick with a syrupy white serum, plunge in and out of her grippy brown lips. She felt like heaven, both on my cock and under my big hands as I ran them up and down her long back.
The gentle fucking, though comfortable and sure to please us both in time, grew stale, and my hands found themselves on her shoulders before long; once there, my hips bucked less politely, and her breath began to huff audibly each time my body clapped against her, eventually to be replaced with mewling little sighs. I could no longer deny that it felt right to be taking what had been mine again.
I pulled out and manhandled her onto all fours, lifting her hips off the bed and kneeing her legs apart; she uttered a string of surprised noises, but never protested in the slightest, even while I coerced her into laying her chest against the mattress.
Face down and ass all the way up, I dove back into her; the tiger stripes of pale stretch marks that arced across her hips and ass made for a great place to hold, and I laughed like a man possessed as I hammered into her, enjoying the rough crack of my body against her rippling bottom, shockwaves of tremoring motion dancing in time even as my balls clapped against her below. Even with her face buried in the mattress, her wordless, unbroken cries of overstimulated bliss were clear to hear and only served to drive me on. Sweat crested my brow but the intervening months spent running daily 5Ks meant I still had plenty to give, and she was obviously in a mood to continue letting me take and take. As hard as I pistoned into her, it was never enough; every thrust demanded that the next be harder, deeper, and more violent, and I grew more desperate for her even as I fucked her raw little hole into oblivion. She made no demands other than an occasional, penitent, “FUCK ME!” and took every ounce of punishment that I imposed upon her poor, ragged body stoically.
The bed had travelled several inches across the room, scooting along with the force of our coupling, and slammed now against a low bookshelf under her window; a photo of her parents tumbled to the ground with a clatter, but she was in no state to pay it any mind, bearing her ruination with an absent attention that only extended as far as her achingly stretched pussy would allow. I reached forward and pulled her to sit up on her knees in my lap; wrapping an arm around her sweaty tummy and one across her chest, between her bouncing tits, to clutch at the base of her neck, I bucked and pumped up into her while I kissed roughly along her neck. She turned her head with some effort, desperately seeking my lips as she moaned through the twisted agony of her orgasm, moaning inarticulately against my lips until her body truly began to fight against her; every muscle in her core contracted rebelliously, and I was forced to let her cramp up in a contorted, quivering seizure of rapturous madness.
It was more than I could take, by far, and I let myself join her in reckless indulgence, pulling her hips down onto me and holding them there as I twitched, twitched, twitched, pulsating with the pumping labor of absolutely flooding my ex-girlfriend with a nearly worrisome load of thick, pearly cum. Her insistent “Yes, yes, yes”s sounded outright desperate, like a zealous fanatic sating a burning thirst; I had never cum outside of her in all the time we had dated, and I knew she’d be furious with any result but that one now.
She collapsed forward onto the bed, and I leaned sideways against the wall of her small dorm room. Her hair was a tangled nest, but her pussy was a desecrated, swollen disaster; globs of hot cum poured from her while I watched from behind, and her once-neat pubes were a gluey mess of curly, cum drenched twists. A bird chirped to greet the newly risen sun. It was 6:00 am.
Once she’d toweled off and used the restroom, I helped her to the shower, carefully rinsing her body with reverent adoration, kissing all the spots that I’d always done before she dropped to her knees repentantly. Though aching and exhausted, I filled her again under the cool water once she’d gotten me hard enough to do so. We stood there for a long while, holding each other close. It was nearly 45 minutes before the hot water ran out.
I made her coffee. She rode me gently again, laying flat against my chest. We watched movies in her room all day, knowing her roommates were gone for the weekend. I laid her on her side, after lunch, and stood at the foot of her bed while I took her, collapsing into a peaceful afternoon nap afterward. In the evening, we ordered in. I fucked her on the floor until the rough carpet tore my knees to bloody rags after the bed began to make alarming noises of protest. It was perfect.
“I’m gonna need a break,” I said tiredly, rolling away from her to lay in a sweaty heap on the ground next to her, “or some Gatorade”.
“I’m so sore,” she laughed, patting her mound tenderly.
A minute wore on. Her hand found mine.
“What are we doing here?” I asked.
“Well, I usually don’t fuck guys a fifth time unless I’m dating them,” she joked nervously, afraid I’d ask how many times she’d rendezvoused with her little fling.
I didn’t. It didn’t matter. We couldn’t go back to being the way we were, but nothing at all just wasn’t an option either.
“I guess you’d better ask me out soon then,” I replied, “because I think I’m going to end up needing you again soon.”