I Stopped by to Fuck My Ex During the Holidays.

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Disclaimer: This story is rated 18+, please know that readers discretion is highly recommended. This article is only for education, information and fun, no hate or discrimination. Thank you for your attention to this matter.

The holidays can be a time to evoke old emotions. Two years after we broke up last December, I was driving through the light snow to my ex’s apartment. We had mutually parted ways amicably work stress, life, etc. but chemistry never died down. Rather than a simple "Merry Christmas" text, it became flirting and before I knew it, I was pulling up to his building with a bottle of wine in tow and no intention of going back any time soon. I said to myself, "It’s a friendly visit. Sub-consciously I knew I came here to go to bed with him.

He was wearing gray sweatpants and an old holiday sweater, and looked badgered. I instantly smelled the familiar smell of his cologne. I hugged him and he hugged me back, and for too long. His eyes told me that he was feeling that same sensation as I was. While we talked about the wine and all of the drama and work that had befallen us as a family, it was an electric atmosphere. All of his laughter, all of the accidental touches of my hand were kind of reminders of how much he knew about my body.

The Tension Just Breaks! Once I passed the second glass, I took my glass of wine down. “No, I didn’t come here to talk, I came to work,” I said softly. He didn’t need to be invited any more. He closed the gap, kissing me with a passion, against the kitchen counter. It was hungry, familiar and urgent — sweeter than pleasantries. My breasts were exposed as his hands went under my sweater and gripped my breasts as I moaned in his mouth. I was able to feel him hard against my thigh already through the sweatpants.

We were not able to immediately go to the bedroom. He lifted me onto the counter, parted my legs as he pulled my jeans and panties down. The granite on my bare ass was cool, while there was heat between us. Then he knelt down and put his face between my legs. Only an ex could know just how and when to work my clit with his tongue it was firm and steady. I held onto his hair as ecstasy welled up quickly in my hands, as I rocked against his mouth. I came hard, biting my lip to not cry out too loud, in his silent apartment. This was just the beginning, though. I wanted more. Then I slid off the counter, turned around and bent over towards him offering myself. He got up, unclenched his thick dick and rubbed the head down my wet asshole. I’m so sorry I didn’t get it," he moaned before making a single hell of a thrust into my pussy. The angle was right, the intensity was right, it landed on all the right spots; standing, intense, all the right spots. He was severe into me again and again, holding my hips with his hands, as he made love to me. There was a slapping noise in the kitchen; and my moans, his grunts, all mixed in.

Resisting each thrust I yearned for the fullness, the way that he stretched me. Sweeping his hands over my clit without ever letting it go, he reached around and rubbed it. I saw the lights in his living room in my peripheral vision as he gave me this raw pleasure of the holiday, the surreal background. On my return he had to support me as my legs trembled, pounding into me as I came and made the best of it until he withdrew and ejaculated on to my lower back with a deep sigh.

Laughing quietly, we took our time, amazed at how quickly it had spiralled out of control. I then took us to the bedroom for round 2 – slower and more explorative. He took his time kissing every part of me, with our eyes locked, and fucking me missionary style till I was going from here to the other world on his dick, on his chest, then letting me ride him till I collapsed. We slept in a bed that was neither separate nor together, but mixed like after sex, when it’s the warmest and most comfortable.

The morning after and reflections. The next morning was a mixture of sadness and happiness. The sun was shining through the blinds and we had coffee and some silent conversation. The sex was amazing, passionate, familiar and just what I needed during a lonely holiday. But it was a moment - not a reunion, we both knew. No promises were made: I left with a kiss at the door, and a good ache between my legs.

Remember, that hookup holiday brought up something important for me: If everybody is on the same page and consenting to the physical relationship, then it can be empowering to reunite with an ex. I think at 28 I’ve learned to embrace my desires with pride. There was still the connection between us, the electricity and the simplicity of one night only. It scratched an itch and, more than anything else, made me feel good about myself and felt like I could have pleasure on my terms. Emotions can be heightened during the holidays; there’s a sense of missing, longing for, or remembrance. If you’re attracted to an "old flame," be open and honest. Be sure that it is safe and consensual. I found myself enjoying a night I would otherwise have been very silent and ordinary, into a memorable and very satisfying night.

Ever reconnect with an ex-husband/marriage partner during the holidays for a kinky time? Or was it that familiar passion which tugged at him? Leave your ideas/comments (clean and anonymous) in the comments. When it feels like it’s time to get hot, don’t hesitate to get hot.

Disclaimer: This story is rated 18+, please know that readers discretion is highly recommended. This article is only for education, information and fun, no hate or discrimination. Thank you for your attention to this matter.

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