Last night I broke The Women’s Sexual Code of Conduct Rule #46, Section F, Sub-Section ii: Never, EVER, hook up with an ex who broke your heart! Because even if you hit it and manage to escape with your heart intact, you’re STILL gonna regret it later.
Now I can always justify even the most random sexual encounters, as long as they’re consensual. But getting back into bed with someone who already broke your heart? Even I can’t justify doing that.
Well, I’m almost ashamed to admit it, but last night I hooked up with a guy who broke my heart years ago.
“What Had Happened Was …”
Not that I’m making excuses (okay, maybe I am), but this whole thing only happened because of a new beard and brown liquor!
I’d just finished a very productive meeting with a client at a new downtown bistro, during which I’d abstained from alcohol. I’d learned the hard way not to mix drinking with business, but that’s another story for another day.
Anyway, I was feeling pretty good about myself after my client left, so I decided to stay and treat myself to a slice of Key Lime pie. What I didn’t realize was that my ex-boyfriend Dante* had been sitting at the bar the entire time.
Dante’s not his real name, of course. But it’s the name I have him listed under on my phone, even though I know damn well I need to delete his triflin’ ass. Think Dante’s Inferno. Now picture whatever you imagine Hell to be. That was my life with this guy. I went thru Hell with him. Then I went thru Hell trying to get over him! But that was a long time ago. I’ve run into him a handful of times over the years, and while I doubt we’ll ever be friends, we’re at least cordial.
So there I was, eagerly anticipating my pie, when Dante walks up to me and says “Hi, Sophia.”
Yeah, I was surprised to see him. But what had me sitting there, a forkful of pie halfway to my open mouth, looking like an idiot for I don’t know how many seconds was Dante’s beard!
Dante’s a nice enough looking guy. He may be an asshole, but he is handsome in that clean-cut, looks-like-the-kind-of-guy-your-mom-would-want-you-to-marry kind of way. But in all the years I’d known him, he’d always been clean-shaven.
Well, now he has a face full of hair! And it looks really good on him!
When I recovered from the shock of seeing him, I did the polite thing and asked him join me. I didn’t think he’d accept though, convinced he’d do the polite thing and decline.
But, Dante sat his ass down and ordered me my favorite drink: Jack and Diet Coke. (Don’t judge. I honestly like the way it tastes.)
That beard, tho!
I don’t know if it was my good mood, the sugar rush from the pie or the calming effect of whiskey, but I found myself actually enjoying Dante’s company for the first time in many years. He’s naturally charming, and if you ignore the deplorable way he treated me years ago, he’s fun company.
I was halfway through my second drink when I found myself obsessing about his beard and how it would feel against my thighs … which, of course, got me remembering how good he was at giving head.
Dante’s tongue game was always strong. He knew it, too. He was cocky about it, and with good reason. Dude ate pussy like a champ. He was so good that even now, if I’m struggling to cum, I’ll conjure up memories of him down there doing his thing to help me get there.
So, he’s talking and I’m staring at his beard, trying to calculate exactly how I’d position my thighs to best feel the tickle of those thick, coarse whiskers. And I’m drinking and getting hornier by the second. Of course it doesn’t take long for Dante to pick up on my mood.
“Whatchu thinking about, with that naughty look on your face?”
I’m thinking about “what that mouf do” and about that sexy-ass beard, I thought to myself. But he already knew.
Less than 10 minutes later, I’m in my car, following him to his house, where he has more Jack Daniels. And a bed.
Look. I knew when I got in my car that I had no business messing around with Dante again. Not that I was worried about getting my heart broken … that wasn’t going to happen, because what I wanted from Dante had nothing to do with my heart or his.
Besides, my heart is spoken for … kind of. Remember Royce**? My boyfriend? Well, we’re sort of on a “break”. Again, that’s a story for another day. Suffice it to say, I wasn’t technically cheating on Royce. Royce is still Bae.
Anyway, I’m over Dante. He no longer has any power to hurt me. However, he may not see it that way, since I was currently driving 80 mph on I-75 for a chance to ride his face again. The thought of what this was doing to his already huge ego was almost enough to make me turn around and take my ass home.
Dude can really eat some pussy. Plus, the beard.
More Liquor (or “Lick Her”)!
Why bother with pretense and pleasantries when we both knew why I was there? Dante grabbed two glasses and a fifth of Jack from his bar. I grabbed the ice bucket, and we headed straight to his bedroom. He’d redecorated since I was last there, so to make small talk, I complimented him on his new furniture.
But that thick, kinky thigh tickler had me thinking all the nasty thoughts! Two strong, but quick drinks later, I was grinding on that sexy beard like a maniac. It felt damn good, too! Holding on to the headboard as I rode his face, I kept my thighs opened just wide enough for the hair on his face to gently scratch me. Sometimes I’d grind harder, and my legs would automatically open wider. But then I slowed down so I could feel his beard again.
Between those prickly whiskers and that brilliant mouth of his, I came twice in mere minutes, and was immediately ready to leave! But, knowing that would be rude and genuinely grateful for the orgasms, I did the right thing and reciprocated, sucking his mediocre dick like the cool chick I am. Thankfully he also finished quickly.
And here’s where the regret kicked in … one look at that cocky, satisfied look on Dante’s face and I wanted to erase the last hour! I could tell that he thought I was still into him and that this latest escapade was a “win” for him. And as much as I wanted to make it perfectly clear that for me, it was all about that beard and too much brown liquor, I didn’t even have the energy play that game. It mattered that little to me.
To add insult to injury, I was too tipsy to drive. So now I was stuck at this arrogant jerk’s house for at least a couple of hours and he really thinks I’m feeling him. Ugh!
Well, it didn’t make sense to waste a perfectly good beard and tongue, so after a few minutes of rest and awkward small talk, I climbed right back up on Dante’s face! I figured hey, if I gotta endure dude’s company until the whiskey wears off, I might as well get something out of it!
Was I wrong, though? Anyway, Rule #46 still stands: stay away from guys who’ve hurt you in the past.
Photo Credits: Instagram.com and juergenland.tumblr.com
*Again, not his government name, but it’s the perfect pseudonym for this dude.
**Also not his government name.