1. Running into the Ex

Transcript

Every Christmas Eve, me and all the girls head back to our hometown and spend the evening drinking in the woodpecker. If you're aged between 18 and about 25, you're bound to see everyone you went to school with piled in, sheltering from the cold and catching up with the yearly gossip. We're three mulled wine steep, the Christmas tunes are blasting and we've just started chatting with a group of guys from the year above us who are dressed in novelty Christmas jumpers in stark contrast to our cute little black dresses.

I'm quite happy getting my flirt on with James McIntosh, who everyone fancied in high school, when I feel the side door open. A brisk gust of air whirling round the pub for a second before it's closed against the weather. I glance up briefly to see who it is, and my heart skips a beat.

Ray. My ex, Ray. Love of my life, Ray.

We only broke up six months ago and I still can't look at photos of him, Ray. I immediately make my excuses with James and gather my girls into an emergency huddle. Jess says we can leave.

It's no big deal. I don't want to. No, I'm having fun.

I reply and I am. It is fun to finally do some no strings flirting with someone hot without having memories of Ray in the back of my mind. We split up after university because I got a job offer 200 miles away.

It was a horrible break up, not because we were unhappy with each other, but because we both still loved each other and knew I had to take the job for the sake of my career. It was bittersweet and we spent a lot of time saying we'd stay friends and that we didn't know what the future held and blah blah blah. But after a while, our video chats stopped and our whatsapps dwindled.

We don't really talk anymore. It's too hard. Jess says we can just avoid him and she's right.

I mean, in theory anyway. My body is 100% aware of him the entire time. Even though we moved from mulled wine to Prosecco, I can't get into the spirit again.

Normally, I'd be staying up until closing in the early hours of Christmas Day, but I just want to go back to my parents' house, curl up and watch some Netflix before having to face the extended family tomorrow. It's just after 11 when I make my excuses, pulling on my winter coat over my dress and wrapping up in my scarf. I say Merry Christmases and weave my way through the revellers before reaching the main door.

Once out, I pause for a second to lean against the pub wall and breathe a sigh of relief into the cold air. Then I hear it. I freeze.

I don't open my eyes, hoping that if I just stay still, he'll leave. But he says my name, questioningly, again, and I have to face him. Hi, Ray.

He is still stunning. Still tall and dark and very handsome. He's wearing a pea coat over dark jeans.

His hand comes to rest on my shoulder as he hesitates, trying to decide whether he should hug me or not. But he leans in and wraps his arms around me. It is so familiar and I am just drunk enough to lose myself in the feeling.

I don't let go, and neither does he, until I look up at him and he says my name. Just once more. I can't help it.

I stand on my tiptoes like I always used to do. Then his lips meet mine and it's like nothing has changed. His lips are still full and soft.

He tastes of rich red wine. His hands travel up to tangle in my hair then move around to cup my face. He pulls away.

I'll miss this. Don't, I start. He kisses me again, stopping my protests.

He presses me back against the pub wall, his whole body on me, his tongue coming to meet mine. It's freezing, but I am so hot. I grasp his thigh, feeling the muscles straining against the denim, then run my hands slowly to his ass so I can pull him into me more.

He makes a mumbled sound of arousal into my mouth. I know that noise. He's turned on.

This is all so familiar and so easy I forget we're not together. He takes my lead and slips a hand up under my dress to cup my ass, squeezing and fondling, just how he knows I like it. Oh, this is dangerous.

He takes my hand and leads me away. We walk a few blocks to an alleyway which opens into a small secluded square where the library is. He's done this on purpose.

This is where we used to come when we couldn't take each other home to our parents' houses. We've done a lot here, from hurried handjobs to frantic doggy-style sex. In the doorway of the library, he pulls me close to him, wrapping me up in his big jacket.

My body is having a very real reaction to the memories. My pussy is hot and tingling. As I press myself into him, I notice he's feeling the same.

His dick is hard. Pressing against his jeans. Without looking at him, not wanting to acknowledge what we're doing, I touch him there, awkwardly curling my hand around what isn't restrained by denim.

He's embarrassed, instinctively bringing his hands down to cover himself. He trails off. I don't say anything, just move his cold hands away and slowly inch down his zip.

I pop the button for more room, and his cock springs forward. I swear I've never seen this man in underwear. He inhales sharply, perhaps from lust, perhaps from the cool air.

I don't let him stay cold for long and take him in my hand, feeling him warm and swell in my grip. I know exactly what to do. There's no hesitation here.

I move slowly at first, paying special attention to his head, where I rub my thumb round the sensitive part where it meets the shaft. With my other hand, I'm playing with his balls, tugging very gently with each stroke. I keep this up, listening to his groans and gasps, until a drop of pre-cum bubbles over and spills down his shaft.

Then I start moving faster, jerking rather than stroking now that he's slick and slippery. I know the speed and the pressure that will get him to cum. I've done this so many times.

I remember these moans. I remember the way he strains his hips forward and tightens his leg muscles when he's near the edge. And I remember his zip.

It's long and thick and feels amazing in my hand, and in my mouth, and in my pussy. I tickle his head, twist his shaft, and handle his balls with a bit more force as I feel him getting close. But I want more, so I drop to my knees and take him in my mouth.

He's almost too big, and he tastes of salt and sweat, and it is amazing. I swallow him all the way down and keep him suctioned there while his dick squirms and jumps in my mouth. Then I let him out, replace my mouth with my hand, and keep jerking him off while I take his balls into my mouth and suck hard.

He is louder now, pulling at my hair and turning his head to muffle his moans into my shoulder. When I hear his groans reach a peak and I feel his balls start twitching in my mouth, I take a glance up at him. His eyes are screwed up and his mouth open in an O shape.

I am hot between my thighs as I remember how good it feels to get him to make that face. He looks down at me, catches my eye, and lets out a breathless laugh. So I suck him back down again and work my mouth and my hand in unison until his cock is taut and so hard and pulsing.

Then he lets out a strangled cry, and I feel him shudder once, then again. Then he's coming. I keep pumping with one hand and swallow every drop as it shoots into my throat, licking up and down his shaft as he continues to jerk and shiver.

His hips buckle a couple of times, his dick spurts once more, and he taps me on the head. I know that's my signal to stop. I pull away and look up at him again, licking my lips because he thinks that's hot and I know that'll give him one last thrill.

True to my memory, he grunts and his entire body shudders, the last drip of spunk falling from his cock. He takes my hand and helps me to my feet. I find a tissue in my handbag, and while he sorts himself out, I look out at the square to the benches where we used to make out for hours and little nooks and crannings where we've done this so many times before.

Then, Ray walks me two blocks home. We are silent most of the way, but at the door to my parents' house, he envelopes me again, kissing me hard and frenzied. I nod in agreement.

I can't say no. We kiss once more, and he walks off. Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas.