He slept with his ex-girlfriend again.

page views:1 Publication date:2022-09-28

These past few days, I've read stories on forums about "going back to an ex." I believe many men will never forget their ex-girlfriends, which is why wives are so wary of them. In fact, an ex-girlfriend can be far more damaging than an ex-boyfriend. I previously wrote a short piece about my ex-girlfriend. From the time we met to our breakup, it took two years and ten months. During those 34 months, I poured the most effort I'd ever put into our relationship. When we broke up, I felt emotionally drained. My expectations for love plummeted; I just wanted to find someone to marry quickly and live a simple, ordinary life. So, three months after the breakup, I met my current wife through an introduction, and we got married six months later. Many people think this was hasty, but at the time, love wasn't important anymore. I just wanted to find someone suitable, marry her, have children, and live a peaceful life. Let's talk about my ex-girlfriend. I didn't contact her for a year after we broke up. I didn't answer her calls, reply to her QQ messages, or respond to any of her messages. I know I still hate her, since the breakup was all because of her. I even feel like I can't accept this failure. I'm a very proud person, and this is the biggest setback I've ever suffered. She asked me through a mutual friend why I wasn't answering my phone, so I sent her a text message. The message was something I'd read in a magazine: "Some things, once missed, can't be undone; no one will wait for you in the same place." It wasn't until a year and a half later that I calmed down and stopped hating her. By then, I'd been married for over six months. One day at lunchtime, I went downstairs to eat with colleagues. As soon as I came down, I saw her. She was so striking. As mentioned before, she wasn't conventionally beautiful, but she had a fantastic figure. She was 170cm tall, and wore size 110 pants. Her legs were straight, and the description "graceful and slender" was truly fitting. Several of my colleagues knew her, and thankfully, they hadn't come downstairs with me. My ex-girlfriend and I went to a coffee shop near my company, a place we used to frequent. When we arrived, she led me directly to a small private room; she had reserved it beforehand. After we sat down, we found that everything was already ordered—the same old favorites. I didn't say anything. I thought I had stopped hating her, but seeing her made me realize I still felt resentful. She didn't say anything either; we just looked at each other. Her eyes reddened first, then filled with tears. I couldn't hold back anymore and said to her, "It's been over a year, I'm married now, what's there to cry about? I can't stand seeing women cry. You're the one who left me, not the other way around. Why are you crying? I'm the one who should be crying. Stop crying, let's talk this out." Between sobs, she said, "I know you still haven't forgiven me, and I know I have no chance, but I just ask that you don't hate me." I wanted to wipe her tears, but then felt it wasn't appropriate. I raised my hand, then lowered it again, saying, "I don't hate you anymore, and I can't bring myself to hate you. I know you have your difficulties; I just invested too much emotion and got caught up in it." She gave an awkward smile and said, "I'm here on a business trip, leaving tomorrow. I've been here for several days, but I never mustered the courage to come see you. I finally mustered the courage to come this afternoon. I heard from your classmate that you got married. Is your wife good to you?" I didn't want to mention my wife, so I gave her a perfunctory answer: "She's alright. Life is just ordinary, mundane, nothing too dramatic, it's fine." After hearing this, she remained silent for a long time, then looked up into my eyes and said, "Do you still think of me occasionally?" I was stunned, unsure how to answer. Neither the truth nor the lie was easy to tell, so I remained silent. Seeing my silence, she smiled sadly and said, "Don't misunderstand, I didn't mean anything by it. My family introduced me to a boyfriend, we've been dating for a while, and we're planning to get married next month. Although it's all my fault in this situation, I still felt it necessary to tell you. I don't expect you to attend my wedding, but I really hope you can forgive me from the bottom of your heart. That way, I can finally have peace of mind. Can you?" Hearing that she was getting married, I felt a complex mix of emotions, so complex that I didn't know how to describe it. Jealousy, resentment, resentment, relief—a little of everything, yet none of them. In short, it was a bittersweet feeling. After thinking for a while, I decided I should finally let go of my resentment, for her sake and for mine. So I said to her, "Yes, I can forgive you. To be honest, I can't bring myself to hate you. Since we've broken up, I hope we can both live better lives. If we can't be together, let's just forget each other." "After saying that, I extended my right hand to her, hoping for a friendly handshake. She grabbed my hand and pressed it to her face, crying as she said, 'In my life, you will always be the person I love most.' I smiled bitterly, thinking, 'You are also the person I love most,' but I didn't say it aloud. I felt it was time to say goodbye, and I couldn't drag it out. So I remained silent, and she continued to cry." After a while, she stood up, walked to my seat, and suddenly hugged my neck, bursting into tears. I didn't know why she was so agitated all of a sudden. I could only sit there helplessly. Later, I gently patted her back, calling her name and saying, "Okay, I really don't blame you anymore. I hope you can be happy, and I hope we can both be happy. Even though we can't be husband and wife, we can still be friends." She moved her head away from my shoulder and cried as she said, "Can you promise to be friends with me from now on?" I nodded and said, "Yes, I promise you." She smiled through her tears, wiping them away as she said, "I know you can. You never refuse me, but I hope this isn't the last time." She started drinking something next to me, and I started eating something too. We chatted casually, and I had a strange feeling of going back to the past. I really wished time could stand still. The helplessness in life sometimes makes you feel like you're in a dream you don't want to wake up from. Her hand suddenly reached for my crotch. I was startled and said, "What are you doing?" She grinned mischievously and said, "It's been over a year. Let me see if it's changed." Seeing my surprised look, she added, "Now when I have sex with my boyfriend, I close my eyes and imagine you. I never give him oral sex. I think only yours is the cleanest and most beautiful." I was struggling with my thoughts. Psychologically, I didn't reject her; I even longed to have sex with her. After all, we used to be so passionate and harmonious. But now I was married and didn't want to cheat. So I just froze. Seeing my stunned expression, she unzipped my pants, pulled my penis out, and removed the foreskin. Then she smelled it and said with ecstasy, "It still smells like my old penis. I missed this smell so much." Then she took the glans into her mouth and started sucking. Waves of pleasure brought me back to my senses. I said, "What's going on with us like this?" She said, "I don't care. I'm not married yet. I'm free. You handle your own affairs. Don't ask me." Worried that a waiter might suddenly come in, I said, "Don't do it here, be careful someone might come in." She got up and locked the door from the inside, then continued to give me oral sex. Her oral sex was the best I'd ever experienced; we'd practiced it little by little, imitating porn, since we were together. What I enjoyed most was her genuine love for my penis; she could take it out and suck on it anytime, never caring about the taste. Sometimes I even thought it tasted bad, but she said she liked the raw, primal smell. After sucking for a while, she pulled my hand under her skirt and touched her genitals. I could feel the wetness through her panties; they were soaked. I immediately became aroused and... (The sentence is incomplete and ends abruptly.)Before I asked her, "Why are you so slutty?" she rolled her eyes at me and replied, "I'm stealing someone else's husband, how can I not be a little slutty?" After saying that, she straddled me, put her legs on either side, pulled down her underwear, and sat down on my penis. The abundant wetness could melt a man's heart. Only lovers who are deeply in love can have this kind of lubrication. I was instantly lost, only knowing to thrust my hips upwards in rhythm with her. She moaned and whispered in my ear, "This is my favorite penis, so hot it's burning, it's even inside my uterus. I'll be your lover from now on, as long as you let me use this penis, please don't refuse me, okay?" "I was like I was under a spell, all I knew was to agree to her, all I knew was to fuck her, my mind was filled with that wet, slippery feeling that made me even harder. Her orgasm came faster than I expected, she pulled my head into her arms so tightly that it hurt my neck, the contractions inside her vagina were stronger than before, and her short moans were more urgent and deeper than before, these sounds made me even harder, her tense body slowly softened, but she still held my head tightly. Just as I was about to speak, she said, "Don't move, let me rest for a while, I want to do it again!" So, she came on top of me three times before she was willing to get off me. I asked her why, she said, "I know there might not be a next time, I have to remember this feeling!" "Before, when we made love, she always preferred to orgasm on the bottom. She found the woman-on-top position physically tiring. This time, it seems she really went all out. I have really mixed feelings. I don't know how to handle our relationship in the future. Although we don't live in the same city, she comes to my city quite often for business. After the first time, will there be a second and a third? I really don't know how to handle it. After she came for the third time, she got off me, leaned on the table, stuck out her buttocks, lifted her skirt to her waist, took off her underwear, turned around and said to me, 'I'm out of energy. You can come now. Don't worry, I'll go buy some pills!'" "I looked down at my penis; it was wet and covered in sticky fluid. I stepped forward and thrust in. Once inside, she started moaning again. I couldn't control myself and started thrusting wildly, like a sprint, nonstop until I ejaculated. After I finished, she put her hands behind my back and pressed down on my buttocks, preventing me from pulling out. It wasn't until much later that she started cleaning up the mess. Afterwards, she said that in the future, when she contacted me, I wasn't allowed to refuse her calls or QQ messages. As for future meetings and what would happen afterward, she said to let things take their course and not to make excuses to avoid seeing her. I agreed to everything; I really couldn't refuse. Because even now, although I'm not sure if I still love her, I'm certain that she was once my greatest love. So, the destructive power of an ex-girlfriend is truly immense."

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He slept with his ex-girlfriend again.

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