I Love Sex With My Ex Boyfriend

Natalia’s husband lied about the money. The bills keep coming, so she shows up at Mick’s place in the middle of the afternoon. He remembers every inch of her, tells her what she already knows: nothing comes free. She nods. He makes her prove it. He bends her over the kitchen counter first, skirt up, thong yanked aside. His mouth is on her ass before she can catch her breath—slow, wet, tongue pushing. She grips the marble. He works her open until she’s shaking, then stands, lines up, and fucks her ass with the same patient pace he used to eat it. Every thrust drags a soft sound out of her. When he pulls out she turns, drops to her knees without being told, takes him straight from her own ass into her mouth. He watches. She holds eye contact, blue eyes watering, lips stretched. He lets her taste herself until he’s ready again. He flips her onto the table, legs spread wide. Mick’s older, bigger, and he knows it. He sinks back into her ass, deeper this time, hands pinning her wrists. She comes first—hard, sudden, clenching around him—then he follows, groaning as he fills her. She leaves with what she came for. He keeps what he wanted.