Brea Up

He sat in his bedroom, what used to be their bedroom, on the bed and thought about her. Their divorce was finally over, but think about he still did. He was glad that she wouldn't be around to manipulate him and make him feel guilty for all of their problems, but at the same time he realizes with regret that he will never again smell her thick musk wafting through the air of their house as he arrives home from work to a particularly happy wife. He will never see her beautiful pink nipples placed exactly where they should be in her marvelously round, firm breasts.

As he sat there thinking about her, he felt himself stiffen within his pants. He undid them and pulled them off, sitting in his dress shirt (the divorce is just over, he thought to himself) and socks, his slowly stiffening member poking out from under the front of his shirt. He laid back, placing his left arm under his head and his right hand just beneath his testicles, massaging them. Finding himself drawn to the memories of her, he thought more deeply about her, about her wide-set but curvaceous hips swaying back and forth as she walked through the house naked but for the towel on her head after her showers.

He thought about how she used to like to massage his penis in public, in plain view of anyone wanting to look, just because she new she could get him rock hard and wanting her like nothing else. As he lay there, his member as stiff as it ever got without her mouth or always wet, perfectly tight pussy around him, he began to slowly massage himself, running his hand the length of his shaft. He groaned several times as he lay there, stroking himself, bucking his hips in the air, imitating sex with her riding him.

Lying there, slowly masturbating, thinking of his now-ex-wife, his thoughts ran from her slowly sucking him off the hundreds of times she must have done it over the years to the slow, uneasy way they used to have sex, with him always afraid to finish before she, to near the end, when all the sex was angry, rough and extremely passionate. Never increasing pace he thought about the taste of her as he would run his tongue around her cleft and how she would always buck her hips and pull his hair as he sucked her pearl. He thought of all the times he had brought her to orgasm with his mouth, especially the first time, when she accidentally kicked him in the testicles during her spasms (he always held her legs out after that, not just because it gave him better access to her more sensitive parts).

As he lay there, slowly working himself to orgasm he heard a soft clicking from the front of the house. Not thinking much of it, assuming something had been blown onto the porch, he continued to stroke himself to her bitter memory. A few minutes later the door to his room opened and as his eyes snapped open and he attempted to cover himself with his shirt, the beautiful, sing-song of his ex-wife's laughter shattered the silence of the room. His eyes darted open and there she was, standing in her black skirt and tightly tailored jacket, starting at his hardly hidden erection and stifling surprised laughter.

"What . . . what are you doing?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"I just came by to see if I had left anything here," she said, barely holding her laughter back. "I was not expecting..." she drifted off and pointed at his now rapidly softening member.

He grinned stupidly in response and shrugged, pulling his hand off of his shirt and allowing himself to fall back into view, though now much less than impressive.

To his ultimate surprise she walked over to him and straddled him on the bed, working her hand on him from between her legs. "I've missed you," she whispered into his ear, her chest pressed against his, her hair covering his face. She slowly ran her hand along the length of his shaft until he was fully erect and pulled herself back from him, looking into his eyes.

Not saying anything she slid down off the bed and gripped his penis in both of her hands, one atop the other, the head and a little of the shaft still revealed through them. She smiled widely and gasps slightly, "I love how big you are, always have," she said, deeply pleased with the penis before her. Before he can say anything she put what remained of his penis into her mouth, sucking what her hands weren't gripping. She slowly massaged him with her tongue while gently squeezing him with her hands. He moaned softly, pressing himself toward her so more of his penis could fit into her mouth.

With one final, tight squeeze she let go of him with her hands and pushed him deeper into her mouth, nearly deepthroating his almost eight inch member. She sucked him like this for nearly ten minutes, massaging his testicles with her hands while she worked until he told her that if she didn't stop he'd come. She giggled and pulled him out, letting him fall wetly onto his stomach.

She stood up, stretched, and when he tried to sit forward to be closer to her, she shoved him back down. "No," she said, "This is my show," and began unbuttoning the white blouse beneath her dress jacket. Once she had undone the buttons all the way down the front, she removed both the shirt and the jacket in one fluid motion, sending them across the room. She stood there a moment, allowing him to marvel at her breasts in their white bra. Smallish, but still pressed up to show a hint of cleavage, he ate her body up with his eyes.

Her smile broadening she reached back and undid her bra, allowing it to fall to her elbows and casually flicked it across the room to her other garments. Wasting no further time she undid her skirt and in the same instance as it fell to the floor, she slipped out of her black, lace thong and cast them to the side of the room as well. Bent over, out of his line of sight, she undid her high heels and once they were off, stood and kicked them away. Standing there, in all of her beautiful nudity, her pink nipples standing in precious contrast to her alabaster skin, the trimmed black fur around her vagina calling softly to his eyes she began to make "tsk tsk" noises, shaking her finger back and forth.

"You haven't taken off your shirt, mister," she said, coyly eyes still on his now throbbing member. "For that you will have to be punished." As she says this she once again straddled him, this time climbing her way up his torso to his face. Once there, she placed herself so that he will have no doubt what she wants him to do--lick her almost dripping wet cleft until she's done with him. He obliged her more than willingly, wrapping his arms around her thighs for better leverage. After several moments of this she rolled over on the queen sized bed and spreads her legs to him, beckoning he come to her.

He came quickly, stripping off his shirt and placing his face immediately back between her legs, lapping at her diligently, her fingers twined in his hair, her back arched, her face a painting of rapture. He lifted her legs, allowing him better access to her more sensitive areas (and protecting himself, one can never be too careful). After many more minutes of this, she began tugging on his hair, pulling him to her. Again he obliged her, climbing up her body, stopping only long enough to run his tongue along her right nipple. She squealed with glee, softly, but distinct enough to him.

Once he had positioned himself, he began running his member the length of her cleft, not only to spread the moisture to himself, but to tease her with it like he knows she likes. After several long moments of toying with her, he slowly inserted himself into her, taking nearly a full minute to reach full depth. Once he had buried himself in her fully they both let out sighs of joy and relief. He began to slowly grind into her, feeling her walls around him, the moisture of her, her breath on his neck, the scent of her hair and skin combined as his head rest on her shoulder. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulling him into her as close as she could as the first orgasm wracked her body with pleasure.

He laughed softly as her spasms slowly died; her orgasms were always so long and they were always so good, he thought. "Did you like that?" he whispered in her ear, grinning widely.

"I did," she whispered hoarsely.

He pulled himself away from her slowly and rolled her onto her stomach, her legs spread at a V. Looking at her, he could feel his penis jerk in anticipation. He loved the way her buttocks looked like this, so round, so firm, so supple. He placed his hands on them as he worked his legs around her hips so he was straddling her. As he placed his penis inside her, she closed her legs and relaxed all of her muscles, taking him easily. He lowered himself to her, reaching around her and cupping her breasts, pressing his chest firmly against her back, his lips tenderly upon her right ear.

He slowly drove himself into and out of her for nearly ten minutes before his breathing became ragged and shallow. "Are you going to come for me?" she asked him.

"I'd like to," he muttered, concentrating on how good she feels.

"Then do it. Do you want it on my tits?"

"I don't care," he said, then after a pause, "Yes, roll over, let me come on your tits, I want to see you watch me."

She did so, rolling over as she could feel him swell inside her, his orgasm about to begin. Almost as soon as she was on her back, her hands on her breasts, holding them out to him, he began to spasm, his back arching roughly, his breathing becoming harsh. He looked down on her and as he came, he could see the glee and regret mingled in her eyes. As his semen splashed onto her breasts for what he was sure the last time he could almost hear her say "I still love you. I always will."

And he knew that if only they were as compatible clothed as they were naked, nothing could ever stop them from being together.

She dressed quickly after he wiped her off and she left, taking none of her things he knew she was aware of still being there. He smiled to himself, knowing that she would probably be back for them, but not for sex that time, and rubbed his slowly softening member in fond memory of her.

"I'll always love you, too," he muttered as he slowly drifted off to sleep.