This Is Why I'm Okay With Having Sex with My Ex

Ex sex had its perks and our encounter was yet another ode to the fire we make. Even if it can't be love...

Love & Relationships

Loneliness can feel louder than usual, more intense, more suffocating. I was all of a sudden really aware of the ache between my thighs and how cold the other side of my bed felt. Moments later, a text to my phone let me know that I wasn’t alone at all. My ex was lonely, too.


That's why I was here, seated awkwardly on his couch with the neck of my bottle of beer grasped tightly in my hand, legs crossed, I was a picture of discomfort as I tried to find ways to sink into that groove of connecting I loved so well. His conversation was beginning to tire me, it felt like he was trying to win me, and it was a feeling that left me perturbed. Our 11:30 text conversation, if it said anything worth note at all, should have at the very least let him know he had already won. I was here, wasn’t I? I stood up from my position on his couch. “I don’t want to talk anymore. I’m tired of talking. I’ve talked so much today…”

I watched him watch me as I lifted the hem of my skirt just enough to move to comfortably position myself over his lap, my legs at either side of his thighs. "Too much.”

I opened the buttons of my blazer to expose myself to him and the air. He was still watching me. Maintaining the eye contact I had with him, I leaned forward and whispered against his lips, “Touch me.”

He surrendered to my desires, pressing his lips urgently against mine, frantic. His tongue gained entry almost immediately after and through sucking and rolling, tangled with mine. His hands burned as they ran up and down the length of my body, grabbing at every curve. I moved rhythmically against him, gasping sharply at the feel of him through his jeans. He was hard for me, and the thought was enough to make me smirk. I wanted to feel more.

I ran my fingers through his short dark head of curls as he began to kiss and bite along the length of my neck. My hands made their way to the seat of his jeans, unbuttoning its snap, unzipping its zipper. The pressure on my neck grew more intense, the kisses more languid, the bites a little harder. He was warm and large in my hands. His dick felt like a welcomed contradiction: impossibly hard like steel but soft like satin. I could hear the sharp intake of his breath on my neck as I felt him. I could hear his moan of weakness as I held him tighter. For a while I played with him, running my hand up and down his shaft repeatedly. It was a ride made easier by the precum spilling from its tip. He was wet for me and I for him.

He brought his fingers to my mouth and I opened it for him, sucking on them slowly because I knew what he planned to do with them. I felt him push aside my panties and insert one of his fingers inside of me. I moaned at the feel of being filled, clenched my teeth at the way he bent it while inside of me. Then, he added another.

My moans grew louder as his fingers picked up speed. I barely had my breath, my body lost in the sensations of his feverish attack. I had forgotten about his pleasure and concentrated solely on my own, but he didn’t seem to mind as he watched me come undone. And when I did, I had no time to question it, catch my breath or thank him like I wanted to. He was already biting open the gold wrapper of the condom. Long gone was the emptiness I felt as he positioned himself at my entrance and guided my hips to fill me completely.

[Tweet "I could only feel him, I could only hear him, and at the moment it was all that mattered to me."]

I could only feel him, hear him, and at the moment it was all that mattered to me. He let out a soft moan as he smacked my ass repeatedly. “This shit is too good,” he breathed against me. God, I could hear the deepness of his voice against my neck. His hot breath felt like fire on my skin. A shiver ran down my spine, and I swore I could feel it echo through my core.

I moaned and leaned forward, crashing against his chest. I felt him tugging at my blazer, dragging it off my body, pulling it off my skin. Felt him pushing the cups of my bra over my breasts and his mouth hungrily laving each one. I continued to ride him, grinding on his shaft and enjoying the way I felt all of him inside of me each time I moved down. God it was coming again, too quick. I tensed. “Please, please, please, please, please, please, please,” I whispered in his ear in rapid succession. A theatrical mantra.

“Please what?” He asked me, as if he didn’t know. He liked confirmation to fuel his ego. I’m never too proud to beg, not when I’m filled like this.

“Make me come.”

His hips pushed up against mine to meet my frantic rhythm, pounding up into me relentlessly. His hands were on my hips, helping me keep up with his movements. Both of our moans grew louder by the minute. He was there, too. I could feel it. I stilled completely as he continued to pound into me, crying out, then his orgasm quickly followed. I fell against him and listened with my eyes closed at the way the both of us tried to catch our breath. The clock in his living room was ticking as his hands moved languidly against my back.

I like this dance we do. We couldn’t make it work in love, but we could always connect in these moments, knowing one another’s bodies like they were the back of our own hands. The fact that that chill of loneliness had been banished at the arrival of his body entering mine meant that I could never deny my hotline going bling. Not when it was him at the other end of the line.

That time and every encounter thereafter always left me with the most relaxing feeling, like a long exhale of breath you had no idea needed a release until you let your guard down long enough to admit to yourself it would always be him. I could never deny myself access to his type of air or regret the fact that I’ve allowed myself to breathe – that’s how vital our lovemaking can sometimes feel for me. I think if you’re an adult and the relationship you and your ex shared was an otherwise healthy circumstance, ex sex can be a great one-time thing or even a string of encounters until you’ve met someone new or are truly ready to close the book on that chapter of you and them. Be wild, be at peace, make love. Ex sex had its perks and our encounter was yet another ode to the fire we make.

Who knows? This chapter probably won’t be our last…

[Tweet "Ex sex had its perks and our encounter was yet another ode to the fire we make."]

How do you feel about ex sex? When was the last time you partook in a little ex action? Share with me below!

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