I stumble in the front door, drenched to the skin from a long and glorious cycle through central London, fighting the downpour and dodging past Boris bikes, punk tunes blasting into my left ear. Exhausted and satisfied and aching all over: my cunt hurts from getting well and truly fucked. As I walk in, I’m accosted by my conscience, who is as steaming angry as I am post-fuck happy, with the words ‘you fucked your ex’ on its lips.
What have you been up to, young lady?
I’m not exactly young, you fucker. I’m a grown adult and I can make my own choices.
Ooh, someone’s feeling defensive! I know exactly what choices you made, can you justify them?
Yes. No. I don’t know.
You fucked your ex-boyfriend, didn’t you? Go on, say it out loud and tell me you think that was a good idea.
I was horny. He smelt good. He was being really nice to me.
He was probably in emotional turmoil. What makes you think you can just fuck him like everything’s normal and fine, without blowing up this fragile détente and ruining fucking everything?
Why do I always have to be the grown-up? Why is it me who gets a conscience-laden bollocking for this, as if I’m the one who knows what I’m doing? As if I have a fucking plan? Why am I the fucking evil temptress here? He’s hot – he deliberately looked hot. He smelt good – on purpose. He hugged me and held me close and sniffed my neck and I fucking knew his dick was getting hard.
Oh. So he was asking for it?
Yes. No. Fuck off.
You fucked your ex, even after you promised yourself you wouldn’t, and now he’ll be sad and fucked-up.
No he won’t. I asked him. He told me he was fine, and it was fine.
Like he’s going to tell you that you’ve really fucked him up.
Why does no one worry that he’s fucked me up?
You’re the strong one. Everyone says so. You know what you’re doing and what you want. You know all the tricks.
What tricks?
Like not staying over, not letting people sleep in your bed. Keeping men at arms length so you don’t accidentally fall for them.
That’s not a trick, it’s a preference.
Besides, I can’t help but notice it’s tomorrow. You stayed over.
It was raining. I was drunk. It wasn’t safe to ride home in the dark. Besides, we’d fucked three times and he hadn’t come yet, and I really really really wanted his cum.
You’re a disgrace.
Fuck you. Listen: you’ve fucking met me. You literally live inside my head. You know what I’m like and what I do. You knew I was going to visit a man who – despite all The Stuff – I am still wildly in love with. You knew he would probably make us cocktails and we’d have a nice time, and I’d almost certainly hurt for him. You knew there’d come a point in the evening where he’d offer me a hug and just that simple act of hugging would make my cunt ache. And thanks to you…
Me? Oh so it’s my fault is it?
Yeah. Because you tell me that fucking him is forbidden. And there’s nothing on this planet that is hotter than forbidden. Except perhaps that moment when I was lying on my back on top of him on the sofa, with his erection crushed between my thighs, when he pinched my nipples tightly so it hurt just the right amount and held me there, with this aura of control and dominance and…
You disgust me.
Or the bit where he made me bend over in front of the mirror, on tiptoes so my cunt was tight and he’d have something to punish me for if I wobbled or failed to hold position, then fucked me so brutally – so brutally – that I could feel the bruises forming on my hips and deep in the back of my cunt. When he wrapped a t-shirt round my throat or when he told me…
Stop it.
…’I’m gonna…’
Don’t.
‘I’m gonna fuck those other men out of you.’
You are incorrigible.
I know. Look. Just because you’ve not been needed for the last nine years…
Ahem.
OK, seven-or-so years.
Ahem.
Fine, five. Look, just because you’ve not had to bollock me like this for a while, that doesn’t mean you get to forget who I actually am. I am the girl who likes fucking. I am the girl who is disastrously horny, and who makes bad fucking choices for the sake of my greedy cunt. I am the girl who is willing to throw her own emotional progress onto the shitheap just to get dick the way I like it, and who is willing – no, eager – to sacrifice ‘the right thing to do’ on the raging bonfire of ‘what feels nice in my cunt.’ I know it’s bad and I know it’s wrong and I know it makes me pathetic and weak, but I also know that you can no more stop me being this person than you can teach me to sprout wings and fly.
You fucked your ex.
And also he fucked me.
You started it.
No I…
Don’t lie.
Fine. I started it. But he invited me over – what did he think was going to happen?
Piss-poor blame-shifting, mate.
He did invite me, and he knew I couldn’t say no. So as I say, why do I always have to be the grown-up? Why am I supposed to be the strong one? All the evidence suggests that if I smell an opportunity to fuck, I will take it. Especially when it’s someone who will bang me so viciously I don’t know if my cunt will ever recover. Who’ll grab fistfuls of my hair and yank me hard down onto his cock. Who’ll stare at me with heavy, dark eyes as he fucks me like it’s punishment. Who tells me I look good and really fucking means it. Who gets hard when he hugs me so I can feel his erection twitching through his shorts and it makes my cunt ache in that painful-happy way and…
Oh for fuck’s sake. Just go have a wank about it then.
Thanks, I will. Now… where’s the other one?
What other one?
There’s an opposite version of you, isn’t there? The one who tells me to be kind to myself. The one who dispenses forgiveness?
She couldn’t face it today. She says you don’t deserve her.
18 Comments
I think that what you have been going through, there is no roadmap for that.
There are no wrong decisions, just some that are better than others. But like anything you just have to make them and see where they lead.
And with sex it is always two people involved so a share of the blame (good or bad) must go to both.
And if the version of you that tells you to be kind to yourself doesn’t turn up, your comments people will. Because we have been through something similar and know you will get through it.
I don’t even think you need forgiveness, but if you do I’d support you forgiving yourself. Of course, you wrote that making it sound like I was talking to *myself* (not at this moment, but definitely in the past), and I’m totally in empathy with you and the boy. And hey, it sounds like it was really hot and a lot of pleasure was shared, so grats on that!
blessed be.
You do deserve forgiveness and kindness and all of the things. And I’m happy for you. It sounds like it was a good good fucking time, and maybe, even with all the pain that’ll come, just a little bit worth it.
Oooh dear…
I was going to cite ‘New Rules’ here, but that seems a little flippant on such a carefully considered post. You don’t need any advice or telling-off beyond what you can already tell yourself.
One has to wonder if the ex went through a similar post-fuck thought process though…
I guess you wouldn’t know. But if not – if he feels no shame or regret whatsoever – then why should you?
Just so I’m clear, you fucked your not been with him for 5 years ex? Not your most recent ex. That makes this ex an old friend that you know you’d enjoy fucking without having to do the relationship thing all over again. Give yourself a break and just enjoy fucking your old friend. Compelling writing.
Oh no this is my very recent ex. The ‘seven years’ ‘ok five years’ refer to a few key incidents where I did things in the past that required my conscience to step in and stop me from being a bellend.
So much of my internal monologue (though I guess you could really call it a dialogue) runs like this when I am feeling down on myself. Perfectly captured.
I’d say don’t beat yourself up about it, but easier said than done (especially when sometimes all you feel like is a beating 😉❤️)
A beauty playing nicely to your submissive side. In all aspects. Submissive naughty.
If it helps at all, once in a similarish situation my ex sensibly and responsibly refrained from fucking me, and all that did was make me feel sad and fucked-up… pathetic, stupid, weak for being the one who couldn’t/wouldn’t say no. So maybe either way it’s gonna feel sad and fucked-up.
i envy you
i want her touch
i want her smell
i want her back
Oh mate, I fucking feel you.
thank you
There is no road map/manual for this thing we call life. There is no right or wrong (unless it’s illegal, immoral or anti social) just decisions we make to further ourselves down our own personal route-ways. It also takes two to tango.
I cannot see that you have done anything wrong here so notch it up to experience and move on. It’s just one more step to where life needs you to be. Enjoy the ride.
This is another confirmation that conversations with your own conscience are never easy.
Oh my! Pardon my faux pas. I initially read the story with a bias, thinking no way would she have sex with the recent ex. and I thought just maybe you were being clever in attempting to get the reader to think that, while leaving clues that it was an ex ex.
I’ve re-read the story and understand you were speaking to your conscience and unlike the rest of us mortals you had not had sufficient issue to have chatted in awhile. (Which begs the other question, what were you chatting about then?).
So now having re-thought the whole thing……forgive yourself first….and then only you have the information to know if it was a mistake or not. I had sex with a recent ex as a younger person because we really connected on that level but were to immature and not yet experienced enough in the world to stay together. She’s not my ex anymore and if not for that well maintained sexual connection we certainly would have not stayed in touch.
(Which begs the other question, what were you chatting about then?).
A couple of dodgy snogs in the early days of being with my ex (one of which was a bit nonconsensual and I had a long chat with my conscience before realising that actually the person I should have been speaking to was the dude who got me drunk and kept pushing), and the more recent thing was a threesome I had which I thought at the time was OK (and which I thought I’d done good check-ins about to make sure it was allowed), but it turned out was not, and I ended up really hurting a friend. I reacted badly when this friend pointed out it wasn’t OK, too, and to this day I have big regrets about the way I handled it because I could (and should) have approached it with way more humility. My conscience didn’t pipe up loudly enough on that occasion, or maybe she did and I just forgot and was too wrapped up in my own headspace and feelings to notice her giving me hassle.
“I thought just maybe you were being clever in attempting to get the reader to think that, while leaving clues that it was an ex ex.”
Dammit, that WOULD have been clever. I’ll have to go on the hunt for some previous exes who might be up for banging me =)
You deserve forgiveness. Life is messy. Things are hard right now and being perfect all the time is unreasonable. 🤷♀️
I’m adding “dodgy snogs” to my list of terms. Sorry you had to deal with a less than fully consensual experience. I hope you write a story about the threesome and the dynamics of why someone got hurt feelings. Having no clue to the details I’ll only add that I wish more people in general were supportive of others adventures and fun. In our life we wrestle with issues of responsibility to others and I’ve learned that their are no hard and fast rules. We’d generally never have a 3 some with someone whose partner did not consent but we also had a very long relationship (and many threesomes) with a good friend who had a partner…….none of us are perfect. On a different topic is their an index to all your previous posts? I can’t seem to find a link.