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I Let My Ex Finish What He Started Five Years Ago

One text from him made me remember what it felt like to be wanted. I drove straight to his apartment with my panties already soaking through.

Disclaimer: This article contains adult themes and sexual content, including tasteful erotic images. It is intended for mature readers only. Please continue only if you are 18+ and comfortable with mature content.

His name is Jamie. We dated for eight months back when I was twenty-three and he was twenty-five, and in all that time we never actually had sex.

That sounds weird, I know. We weren’t waiting for marriage or anything dramatic. It was more like — the timing was always off. One of us had roommates. He worked nights, I worked mornings. We’d get close, make out until we were both breathless and grinding against each other, and then one of us would have to leave. Or we’d start undressing and his phone would ring — his mom, his boss, whatever. It became a joke between us. The universe didn’t want us to fuck.

Then we broke up. Nothing dramatic — he got a job in another city, we tried long distance, it fizzled. I’d think about him sometimes, mostly when I was alone in bed. Wondering what it would’ve been like. Wondering if the buildup was better than the actual thing.

Five years. That’s how long I wondered.

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I was twenty-eight now, living alone in a studio apartment, working a marketing job that paid okay but bored me to tears. I’d had a few boyfriends since Jamie, nothing serious. Nobody who made me feel the way he did — the way he’d look at me like I was the only person in the room, the way his hands would shake a little when he touched me.

Then last Tuesday, I got a text from a number I didn’t recognize.

Hey Cara. It’s Jamie. I’m back in town. Been thinking about you a lot. Don’t know if you want to hear from me, but I had to try.

I stared at my phone for a full minute. My heart was pounding. I read the message three times, then saved his contact.

Hey, I typed. Deleted it. Wow, this is random. Deleted it. I’ve thought about you too.

I sent that last one before I could overthink it.

He replied in seconds. Can I see you? Tonight?

I was supposed to go to the gym. I had a meeting at nine the next morning. I had a thousand reasons to say no.

Send me your address, I wrote. I’ll be there in an hour.

I changed clothes three times. Ended up in a simple black dress that hit mid-thigh, no bra, the kind of dress that said I wasn’t trying too hard but absolutely was. I put on the good perfume, the one I saved for dates. Then I drove to his apartment, which turned out to be a second-floor walkup in a neighborhood I knew well.

He opened the door before I could knock.

Jamie looked good. Better than good. He’d filled out — his shoulders were broader, his jaw sharper. He was wearing a gray t-shirt and jeans, and his arms — I remembered his arms being nice, but they were something else now.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

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We stood there for a second, both of us smiling like idiots. Then he pulled me inside and kissed me.

It was exactly like I remembered. The same pressure, the same way he cupped my face with one hand like I was something precious. I melted into him, my hands finding his chest, gripping his shirt.

“Five years,” I said against his mouth.

“I know.” He kissed my neck. “I thought about it every single day.”

“Liar.”

“Ask my therapist.”

I laughed, but I was already pulling his shirt up. “I don’t want to talk about your therapist.”

“Good.”

He got my dress off in about three seconds flat. Then his jeans. Then we were on his bed, skin to skin, and I could feel how hard he was pressed against my thigh.

“Wait,” I said. He froze. “I just — “ I laughed. “It’s finally happening. I need a second.”

He propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at me. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I touched his face. “I’m just — really, really glad you texted.”

“Me too.” He kissed me, soft this time. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what we never got to do. All the positions I wanted to try. How you’d sound.”

“You’ve been planning this?”

“For years.” He grinned. “I had a whole PowerPoint.”

“Oh god.”

“Slide one: oral sex. Slide two — “

I flipped us over, straddling him. His cock pressed against my stomach, hard and hot. “Shut up and fuck me.”

He laughed, but his hands found my hips. “Not yet. I want to taste you first.”

I tried to protest, but he was already sliding down, pushing my thighs apart. His mouth found me — warm, deliberate — and I forgot what I was about to say.

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He took his time. He licked me slow, exploring like he was memorizing it, and I arched into him, my hands tangled in his hair. He sucked my clit gently, then harder, then back to slow, driving me crazy.

“God, you taste good,” he said, looking up at me. “I knew you would.”

“Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He found a rhythm that had me gasping, one finger sliding inside me, then two, curling just right. I came with a sharp cry, my thighs clamping around his head, and he kept licking through it until I pushed him away.

“Your turn,” I said, breathless.

I moved down, wrapped my hand around his cock. He was thick, a little bigger than I remembered — or maybe I just hadn’t touched him in so long. I took him in my mouth, deep as I could, my tongue circling the tip.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed. “Cara.”

I looked up at him, kept going. I could feel him getting close, his hips starting to buck, and I pulled off.

“Not yet,” I said, echoing him. “Condom?”

“Nightstand.”

I grabbed one, rolled it onto him. Then I straddled him again, positioned myself, and sank down slow.

We both groaned.

“Fuck, Jamie.”

“Jesus Christ.”

I started to move, rocking my hips, finding a rhythm that made his eyes roll back. His hands found my breasts, squeezing, thumbs brushing my nipples.

“Look at you,” he said. “You’re so beautiful.”

I leaned forward, riding him deeper, and I felt myself getting close again. He must have felt it too, because he grabbed my hips, taking control, thrusting up into me hard.

“Cum for me,” he said. “Cum on my cock.”

I did. I came with a broken moan, my whole body shaking, and he followed a second later, groaning my name.

We collapsed together, breathing hard. I lay on his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow down.

“That was — “ I started.

“Better than the PowerPoint?”

“So much better.”

He laughed, kissed the top of my head. And then he said something that made me go still.

“I should tell you something.”

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My stomach dropped. Classic bad news opener. I lifted my head, looked at him. “What?”

“I’m not — “ He sighed. “I moved back for a job. But that’s not the only reason.”

“Okay?”

“I came back for you.” He said it like it was simple. Like it didn’t make my heart stop. “I’ve been wanting to reach out for years, but I didn’t know if you’d want to hear from me. And then I realized I’d rather know than wonder.”

“Jamie — “

“You don’t have to say anything.” He cupped my face. “I just wanted you to know. I’m not looking for a hookup. I want to try again. For real this time.”

I looked at him. At his nervous smile, at the way his hand shook a little against my cheek.

“What if we mess it up?” I asked. “What if it’s not the same?”

“Then we try anyway.” He kissed me. “I’d rather mess it up with you than get it right with someone else.”

I didn’t have an answer. Not yet. But I kissed him back, and when I felt him harden against my thigh again, I smiled.

“Show me your other slides,” I said.

He flipped me onto my back, already reaching for another condom. “Slide three: doggy style. Slide four: you on your stomach, me behind you. Slide five — “

“Jamie.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

He laughed, and then he did.

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