This story is the first in what I hope is a series of Sex with the Ex. It is under the fetish section since it involves eating sweet cream pie. Please let me know whether you liked it or not.
My ex-wife and I divorced several years ago. It was no one’s fault in particular with our problems more emotional than financial, or sexual. Regarding the sexual side of things, we had admitted to one another on more than one occasion in the years subsequent to the divorce that regardless of other issues, each had been the perfect sexual partner. The truth of the matter is that at least I still felt that way. I could still easily get off remembering great times between the sheets with her.
Malicia was gorgeous. She was slightly above average height at around 5′ 7″, maintained a slim 130-135 pounds, had blond hair the color of sun-bleached straw, pert, smallish breasts (I never was into huge breasts), and straight white teeth. She was pretty and photogenic enough to have modeled for a leading retailer throughout her 20s and early 30s.
My name is Richard, but since childhood, everyone has called me Rick. I am just an average guy with what many say are rugged good looks, which I always took to mean looks with flaws kindly referred to as “rugged. I have gone through various periods of keeping myself in reasonably good shape, and others where I have let myself get a little pudgy. This being a year a beach vacation vacation was planned, I happened to be in pretty good shape. I have a small ass, trim middle, broad shoulders that are holdovers from a swimming career, and an adequate, but nothing-special 6.5 cock. My biggest claim to sexual fame is that I am oral to the max. I never felt obligated to eat pussy; in fact, I loved it. I loved the wet slickness of it, and after so much practice, I feel that I am good at it. In addition, I have an active sexual imagination and Malicia was adventurous enough to indulge some of my fantasies, which often turned out to be those she herself had. She was not always forthcoming about what she wanted, but most of my trials turned out not to be errors.
While we were married, we had sex on a regular basis. Usually, I liked to give her a warm oil massage to start. I would massage her back while my hard cock moved up and down the crack of her perfect ass. Sometimes I would feather my fingers up the back of her legs, massaging her calves and thighs just below her pussy. Eventually, I would run my oily fingers up the crack of her ass and let them slide over her puckered little bud.
Other times I would turn her over and trim her pubic hair. Shaving made her itch, so I would have her lie very still while I trimmed her with small scissors. Naturally, I had my hand resting on her pussy during the process and she would leak all over my hand. I always made a point of moaning and slowly licking her juices off my hand while she watched. After moving a tissue containing her trimmed pubic hairs to the nightstand, I would kneel on the bed and pull her up into the kneeling position. Then I would alternate between wet passionate kisses and gently biting and licking her lips as we held one another so tightly we threatened to become a single, saliva, sweat oil covered person.
As I moved my finger between her legs, I would bite and suck on her sweet nipples. When my fingers were soaked in her juices, I would use them to make ever-widening circles on her nipples, then bend over, and lick them clean. During this process, she would run her hand down my stomach and play with my cock until it felt like it would burst. I would tell her how sweet her pussy was and how much I loved the taste, and how much I craved for her to sit on my face and rub her wet pussy all over my mouth. Then I would put my fingers back in her sopping pussy and tell her that she had to taste herself. I would move my fingers over my nipples, grab the back of her head by the hair, and pull her mouth to my nipples. She would greedily lick up her juices, which would turn me on to the breaking point.
“”You taste good don’t you, baby?” I would ask.
“”Mmmmm”, she would moan into my chest.
Pushing up inside her again, I would bring my fingers up to her mouth. “”I know you want some more of this. I’m telling you baby, you have the sweetest tasting pussy on the planet!”
She would immediately lean forward to suck her juices off my dripping fingers. When she finished she would bend over, taking my leaking cock into her mouth, sucking as though it were her last meal. Not long after that, swollen and ready to blast my load, I would push her away. She never failed to have a disappointed and pouting look on her face when I did, a look that only served to turn me on more.
“”God, baby, you are so fucking wet, just like I want it. Bring that beautiful pussy up here to me,” I would say as I fell backward on the bed. Her green eyes would turn wild and aggressive as she moved up my body dragging her sopping pussy across my chest and lowering her dripping gash to my mouth. By this time, she was always on fire, her sweet nectar literally pouring out of her and into my eager mouth, my tongue lapping as fast as possible to keep up with the flow. My hands resting on her hips and ass, I would stick my tongue up her hole as far and it would go and move her pussy all over my face until it was slick and wet.
“”I’m going make you cum, then make love to you and then lick you clean until you come again,” I would whisper.
Telling her I was going to cum in her pussy and then clean her up with my tongue usually made her lose it completely. Growling, she would grab my ears and hold me against her throbbing pussy as she went tigress on me, pushing her clit against my chin and tongue and nose. Cum would splash out of her until it was all I could do not to drown in the process. She would alternate slow, quick, powerful strokes with long ones that brought her ass over my mouth so I could lick her from the top of her swollen clit, down over her puckered hole and back up to the top of her ass crack. On her short strokes it felt like I was a mustang being rode hard with her pussy and ass slamming over and over into my face. Her movements were so powerful that only a fool would think the mustang was in control. Finally, grunting like an animal, she would slam her pussy into my face and cum so hard that sometimes her cum would squirt out of her in a stream into my greedy, open mouth not unlike me blowing a load I have held inside for two weeks.
Leaning over and opening her mouth she would slurp up some of the slick fluid covering my face to moisten her parched lips. Her face and chest would be flushed pink, her eyes semi-closed, her lips shining from my saliva and her pussy juice.
She would then slide her way back down my body, her legs splayed until my cock buried itself to the root in her steaming pussy. By this time, her pussy was so wet and hot that my cock felt like it had fallen into an slippery steam bath.
She would continue to hump me as she bent over to bury her tongue in my mouth. By the look on my face, she always knew when I was ready to blast molten cum up into her. She would smile and ask, “”How do you want to get it? Do you want to stick that big cock of yours in my mouth and cum in my mouth?” Forgetting what I had told her about cleaning her up during the heat of our lovemaking, I would usually murmur, “”mmmmhmmm” and nod my head. She would move off my cock leaving a trail of pussy juice down my leg as she got on all fours. At that point, I would kneel before her and she would suck my dripping cock into her mouth.
Watching her suck my cock, knowing it was coated with her juices, along with the way her mouth felt on my slick stick was too much to bear. Just when she felt my cock balloon in her mouth and the opening expand, she would move her hand up to cup my bursting balls.
“”Arghuuuu! Oh yeah, baby! Suck it! Thats it!” I could feel the cum racing up my cock from the depths of my balls splattering the back of her throat, then seconds later slowing to a jerking set of half a dozen pulses coating her tongue.
“”Mmmmmm, so sweet,” she would moan as she swallowed it down.
Spent and shaking, falling backward onto the bed, I would wait for her to finish cleaning me up, which always ended with her licking around and under my dick cap to make sure she got every last drop. When she finished, she would come up, kiss me and cuddle into the cradle of my arm where we would fall asleep.
Since our divorce, Malicia had ventured down a number of bad, or otherwise dead end roads sampling broken men and as I later discovered, a few women. Me? Well, I had done some sampling of my own, but nothing of any serious, long-term duration. On a couple of occasions I had even let one of the local well known gays blow me.
Sexually, both of us had made some very interesting sojourns into the traditional and the bizarre; stories better left for another time. In any event, after some sexually unrelated self-destructive behavior, we were both being kinder to ourselves, and since we had children in common, this renewed approach to life was a turn for the better.
Over the past couple of years, Malicia and I had gotten over some of the pain of our marriage, and were helping one another out, usually just by listening to one another when we had problems. She had found a man that she was fond of, and I had an on again, off again relationship with a half-crazy woman.
Malicia and my relationship had evolved and was what one would describe as mature, and with that evolution as a backdrop, I invited her to go to Florida on vacation with our boys and me. I really did not expect her to say yes, but since the last several years had been tough on her financially, an expense paid week on the beach turned out to be appealing to her.
Before finally committing though, she asked the ultimate question: “”So, there are no strings attached to this, right?”
“”No, no strings at all. There are only 3 beds, so you will need to decide whether you want to sleep on the couch, share a bed with one of the boys, or with me, but beyond that, I know things have been tight for you and thought you might like an all expense paid chance to spend some time with the boys. Besides, your being there will take some of the pressure off me. Between the two of us, I think we can show the boys a good time and still enjoy some relaxed time for ourselves. If you decide to sleep with me, I promise nothing will happen that you don’t instigate.”
Apparently, she trusted me enough to take my word and two weeks later, we packed up the truck and headed for Mexico Beach.
The first couple of days at the condominium were non-eventful. On the first day, the kids discovered a group of kids their age to hang out with and by the second day were showing up only for meals and the obligatory warnings about staying on the beach, or at the pool, but staying out of the ocean unless parents were around. Most of Malicia’s and my time was spent relaxing in the condo, at the pool, or on the beach. Other than keeping one another apprised of where we would be in case we were needed, we kept pretty much to ourselves. Malicia had elected to share the bed with me, but I was true to my word, leaving her alone at night.
Malicia and I puttered around on the third morning before deciding to walk down to the beach. Looking at her once she was ready, it was all I could do to avoid getting a hard on. Malicia’s body in her bikini belied her 36 years; in fact, one could say that she was at the height of her beauty. Her face no longer looked thin like that of a teenager. It had filled out just enough to make her beautiful in a womanly way. Her Scandinavian heritage had provided her hair that was so blond it was almost white and a body that was still a little thin for many mens’ tastes was perfect for mine. Her eyes were green, a feature that since her mother’s were blue and her father’s brown, was a bit confusing, and I loved that her boobs would never sag and that she would age well.
In our time together, I had always been the dominant one, but somehow the past few years had changed Malicia. There was no guile in her. Her past no longer held any embarrassment, or secrets for her, and that raw honesty made her amazingly powerful to me.
It was another beautiful day. The sun was high in a sky and out over the horizon the blue of the sky melted into the deep blue of the ocean until one was indistinguishable from the other. As we walked along the white beach speaking quietly to one another, all of the cruel and unusual things we had said to pummel one another into submission over the years melted into the background, and reminiscent of times past, we seemed to echo a kindness and true affection for one another.
After spending some time at the pool, we returned to the condo and ordered pizza for lunch. When the boys rolled chaotically in, they were chattering excitedly about the family from across the way that had invited them to go to Panama City to ride the go-carts and have dinner with them. Malicia wanted to make sure the boys had not invited themselves and called to talk with the other boys’ mother. She assured Malicia that she had indeed invited them and went on and on about how respectful they were, and how they would be delighted to have them. Satisfied, Malicia got a rough estimate of the cost and we sent the boys off with enough money to have a good time and their promise to mind Mr. and Mrs. Jamison. Just as chaotically as they had rolled in, they rolled out with excited laughter and huge smiles on their faces.
After they left, Malicia gave me a mischievous smile and ripping off a Martin Luther King line, said, “”Free at last, free at last. Good God Almighty, we are free at last!”
Playing along, I gave her a broad smile and responded, “”a
“”Well, it is at least an hour to Panama City and if they spend two hours playing and then have dinner before coming back, I am guessing we have until 6:30 or 7:00 to do whatever we want.”
“”I am game for anything. We can take a ride, go back to the beach, or grab a bottle of wine and veg out on the couch and watch television, or a movie. So, what is your pleasure beautiful?”
“She smiled at the compliment. “Well, in that case, since I am feeling pretty fried from the sun already, we may as well complete the job and get fried on wine.”
That sounded like a great idea to me and I was thankful she felt the same as I did. “I was just short of being fried as well. “We have two bottles of white and two bottles of red, so pick your poison. And if we run out, I have money I haven’t spent yet.”
“”If the white isn’t too dry, that sounds good to me. Tell you what, you chill the wine and I will take a quick shower and get out of this bikini.”
“”No need to do that on my behalf, but if you want to change, do you need any help?”
She gave me a look and for a moment, I thought she might say okay. Instead, she smiled good-naturedly and said, “”If I do, I will let you know. Now get to working on that wine buster. I am parched from all this sun.”
I put the wine on ice and went to the boys’ bathroom, which had a smaller, but still serviceable shower, stripped and washed the sand out of my hair and crevices that it had no business being in given that we had only walked along the beach and hung out at the pool. Sand though, finds its way into everything and was one of Mother Nature’s undocumented features of beach life, kind of like malware in that great, free program you just downloaded. On the plus side, the beach sand always made my usually somewhat thin hair feel and look thicker, so I guess there is a trade-off. Anyway after showering, I dried off and put on a pair of workout shorts without underwear and no shirt.
I went back to the kitchen, rummaged until I found a corkscrew, and opened one of the bottles of German wine from the Mosel region. Mosel wines were always a little sweeter tasting to me than the wines from the Rhine region. Even though I preferred the drier wines, I knew that Malicia was more a sweeter wine person, so I had bought what I knew she liked. I could be happy either way. I got two glasses from the cabinet and was just about ready to pour when Malicia called me from the bathroom.
“”Could you come here for a second, Rick?”
When I got to the bathroom, I found her brushing her hair straight back, a gorgeous look for her. She had a pair of white silk boy shorts on that framed her perfect ass and nothing else. Her small, perky breasts stared back at me from the mirror shocking me a little given the current nature of our relationship; but hey, I had seen her naked a thousand times, so it was not so strange for her to lack self-consciousness in front of me now. After all, we had been married for 10 years.
“”Could you lend me a tee shirt? I completely forgot to pack any and I want to save my better shirts for later in the week.”
“”Sure, no problem,” I responded, and headed to the master bedroom we were sharing before returning with a white one within a few seconds. Holding it out to her, I said, “”This one will match your white bikini line.”
she did not respond and thinking I may have stepped over the line, I could feel my face flush, so not waiting for a response, I turned to go. Since my cock was stiffening, it was probably a good course of action. “”I will pour the wine,” I mumbled as I headed for the kitchen. I could have sworn I heard her giggle.
A couple of minutes later, she came out wearing only my tee shirt and her boy short panties, which were not showing, but were clearly outlined by the tee shirt. “”Oh, good,” she murmured plopping down on the couch next to me and leaning forward to grab the wine I had just poured. She leaned back on the couch and against my arm, propped her feet up on the table and crossed her legs.
“”How about some Cheetos (they had always been her favorites)? Or if you prefer, there are plenty of other snacks in the kitchen.”
“”You are going to think I am crazy, but I would love some chocolate.”
“”Crazy? No way! Lucky for you, I am a chocoholic too: Coming right up!”
I jumped up from the couch and went to the kitchen where I had put some Rochet chocolates in the refrigerator to keep them from melting in case we opened the doors and turned off the air conditioning. I grabbed a small bowl and heaped it full of the foiled chocolates and squeezed my cock a couple of times as though that would stop it from hardening. I guess that falls into the ‘“What the hell were you thinking?’ category.
Returning before it was fully hard, but unnoticeable only to someone vision impaired, or entirely self-absorbed, I put the bowl between our glasses. She licked her lips, and I was hoping it was not all about the chocolates, but in spite of my desires, she giggled like a schoolgirl and reached for the chocolates. I knew she had looked my dick in the eye, so to speak, but I was totally confused as to whether she thought I was a hopeless, dick-controlled moron, or just cute.
We talked about the kids for a while and polished off the first bottle of wine. Neither of us were much when it came to drinking, so we were both at the city limits of Tipsy Town. Pouring the last of the bottle into my glass, she slightly slurred, “”That is one dead German soldier. You want to kill another?”
“”Hell, if I had known we were going to make those kinds of analogies, I would have bought French wines! They put up less of a fight.”
I rose and went into the kitchen to open the second bottle. When I came back, she had her feet on the table, legs bent, eyes closed, playing a beat that must have been inside her head, because I couldn’t hear a fucking thing. I got a great look at her sweet ass that was no longer pretending to be covered by my tee shirt. By this time, doing four things simultaneously; namely, leering at my ex-wife’s ass, walking, wondering why I couldn’t hear the fucking music, and trying to carry a bottle of wine was well beyond my limited motor skills.