I get a little kick out of seeing some of my cum splatter on her chin and see my Exgf turn her face away in disapproval. “Take it bitch!” I say to myself as I give the last few tugs on the end of my cock, making sure that all my cum has landed on her. Almost all of it is on her breasts and this pearl necklace makes for quite a sight. She comes back to life and without saying a word to me she starts smearing the semen into her breasts. To me that will always be a titillating scene because on a subliminal level it speaks to me of approving of my sperm.
As I look at my Exgf my mind wanders over to something I have recently become aware of: microchimerism. In essence it is a phenomenon in which women carry in their bodies samples of the DNA of the men that they have had unprotected sex with. The material even collects in a woman’s heart and brain. Reading up on this has proven scary and disturbing, but it does explain several things.
The research so far has given credence to the practice of using a condom, but it also hints at our forefather’s belief that women should not be promiscuous. I think I am guilty of carrying that belief within me too, but science is now finally starting to provide physical evidence to what has largely been an ethical and moral debate.
Instead of something strange having come over my Exgf, can it be that too many strangers have cum in her? Has my Exgf now become so addled with the DNA of all her former lovers that she is now this dysfunctional person, incapable of a normal, meaningful relationship?
We fall asleep in my bed like two strangers forced to spend the night together. I like to cuddle and this fuckbuddy scene will never be entirely to my liking because it is a cut-down version of what I really want. However, until I find The One, then this will have to do…and I get to even the score with my Exgf.
I’m awoken the next morning by the sensation of my Exgf sucking my morning-glory. She’s only ever once before woken me up like this and it was in the early days of our relationship. As she became more secure in our relationship her initiating sex died, but today she wants something and is prepared to make an effort. She’s such a manipulative Taker; she can put on quite an act.
Her acting triggers a memory of a funny incident recently. I was on a date with The Wanderer and it was a perfect English Summer’s day. We were walking past a parade of shops along a high street when I distinctly heard my Exgf’s voice. My eyes turned to catch her greeting a guy I had never seen before. They were standing on the pavement where a coffee shop had tables and chairs. From her body language and his movements it was clear to me that this was a first date for them. They awkwardly shook hands and he fumbled an attempt to kiss her cheek. As she turned her head to present her cheek, her eyes caught mine; they went wide in surprise. We both smiled at each other and then resumed our individual conversations.
After a few minutes I told The Wanderer what I had just seen and she insisted that we walk back and pass them on the other side of the road. I guess she wanted to have a good look at my Exgf while I was curious as to what might be happening. The guy, who looked quite a few years younger than my ex, was leaning back in his seat, looking very casual and comfortable. My Exgf was sitting forward on the edge of her seat, her hands and feet together, leaning forward slightly, no doubt in a deliberate attempt to tease him with her ample cleavage. Their body language told me that she was more into him than he was interested in her. I was glad that she was out dating because it meant that soon she was going to be someone else’s problem. Hopefully though she wasn’t sleeping with anybody else. Later that day we swapped a few messages about this incident and we saw the funny side of it. The date led to nothing more between them, at least that’s what she told me.
I’m more awake now and our eyes make contact. It looks like she’s been awake for a while, her eyes are clear and bright.
“You’re not just using me for sex, are you?” she asks, then resumes sucking my cock while maintaining eye-contact.
“Oh no, I’m using you for all sorts of other things too,” I answer with a smile.
She lets off a laugh and resumes sucking away, while I muse to myself that I was being totally honest. I had revenge on my mind. You used me, now I’m using you. Suck it, bitch!
Those are her first words to me this morning? Hmm, it seems that she’s starting to realize what my game is and that there might be no hope of a reconciliation between us. Why else would she ask that question? Suddenly an invisible clock starts ticking above us. The end is approaching for our little arrangement. I have to make the most of this.
An idea comes to me and I get my phone out. I start taking photos of her giving me a blowjob. In our past such activity would have come to an abrupt halt if I did anything like this, but now the dynamic between us has changed unrecognisably. I do what I want and she goes along with it, largely because she wants something and until now thinks acquiescence will lead to reward.
I wonder how many other guys photographed or filmed her sucking them off? How many filmed themselves fucking her? Does she know? Would she even tell me? The thoughts of other guys fucking her fill me with a strange sense of rage. It’s not that I have positive feelings for her, but more her cheapening herself is what disappoints me and that coupled with her deceit that angers me because I was so taken in by her. I totally loved this person who I now think of as so unsuitable for me. I’m angry with myself for letting myself feel what I did for her, but her carefully-crafted version of herself had a lot to do with it. My judgemental streak merging with a need for revenge leads me to think and say crazy things sometimes, such as now.
“Show me how you sucked off all those other guys,” I say to her.
Her eyes close slightly and her eyebrows try to meet as she hears my words. I expect an aggressive response, but she says nothing and keeps sucking away on me.
“Show me how you swallowed so many other guy’s cum,” I add, almost goading her and riding my luck.
My Exgf looks me in the eye, trying to make sense of my utterances but all the while rhythmically moving her head around my phallus. I feel my words and feelings have an effect on my scrotum and I feel my sperm starting their stampede.
“I’m going to cum. I want you to keep going. I want you to suck me dry and swallow my cum,” I instruct.
Without flinching or blinking she keeps going, just like a good whore would. There are probably high-class whores – courtesans – who have sucked off fewer cocks than her.
My back arches as my butt-cheeks clamp tight. Fresh sperm, devoid of pollutant flavourings, shoots forth into her mouth. I can’t see what is pouring out of my cock because my Exgf is keeping her mouth firmly locked around my bell-end, still attentively sucking away on it, seemingly intent on swallowing every little drop of my cum, just like I instructed her to do. She keeps her eyes closed as she does what she does best.
If she ever decided to become a professional whore I reckon she would be popular for her blowjobs alone. She takes her time, seems to enjoy it, is happy to swallow…and she can suck the chrome off a towbar.
“Right, I need to shower and then I’m meeting Sally for brunch,” she says as my cock pops out of her mouth.
As she showers I start to remember her best friend Sally. For reasons unknown to me that bitch never liked me. I think it was because I wouldn’t kowtow to her silly whims and mood-swings. Her and my Exgf became friends in primary school and have been a feature of each other’s lives ever since. Neither of them makes a major decision about anything without consulting the other one first. As independent and strong-willed as my Exgf might be, she will consult with her best friend over anything serious, especially her love-life. I have yet to meet a woman who doesn’t. I guess I’ll be a topic of conversation at today’s get-together, but I really don’t care.
My ambivalence is quite liberating. Truth be told though, it’s largely because online dating sites are starting to feel like my own personal conveyor belt of pussy. I’m learning more about the hearts and minds of women by the week and seduction is no longer a mystery to me. I can replace my Exgf; I was always going to.
I walk my Exgf to her car, feeling hidden, inquisitive eyes in the cross-hairs on my back. I think my neighbours must consider me something of a gigolo because almost every time they see me I’m with a different women. I give my free-whore a cursory kiss goodbye on the cheek, just like I would somebody’s grandmother. As she drives off I can’t help but wonder if that was the last time that she would service me.
So on Wednesday night I fuck the Irish Cougar, then dump her the next night just before my Exgf calls to arrange booty duty. I fuck her on the Friday night and have more fun on Saturday morning. Now it’s Sunday morning and I’m getting ready to meet someone new.
Is this really my life?
Bruno Mars – Grenade