My Ex-Husband Had No Idea What I Had Become
There’s a version of me my ex-husband never knew. The woman he was married to for twelve years didn’t know how to ask for what she wanted, stayed still in the dark, and waited for him to finish. That woman disappeared the day Andrés packed his bags and left with Claudia, his new partner, without looking back. What came after took me some time to uncover, but when I did, there was no going back.
So when the idea came to me, I enjoyed it even before I carried it out. I called him on a Tuesday afternoon and told him he had left one of his favorite T-shirts at home. It was a lie, of course. There hadn’t been anything of his between these walls for months, but he didn’t know that.
“Come by and pick it up when you get off work,” I told him with a calm I didn’t feel. “And stay for dinner, I owe you for the trouble.”
He agreed too quickly. This is going to be easier than I thought.
I took care of every detail. I chose a pink lingerie set that fit me like a second skin and, over it, a dark blue dress that ended a hand’s breadth above the knee and had a neckline that left little to the imagination. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. The insecure woman he had grown bored of was no longer there.
Dinner passed with laughter and wine. We talked about old things, about people we no longer saw, and all the while I noticed how his eyes dropped to my cleavage and came back up, pretending they hadn’t. Every time I caught him, I would look away slowly, giving him permission without saying a word.
When we cleared the plates, we sat on the sofa. He looked around the living room.
“You’ve barely changed anything in the house,” he commented. “It’s all the same as when I left.”
I moved closer, let my knee brush his, and lowered my voice until it was almost a whisper.
“You’re the one who’s changed. Claudia is taking good care of you. You’ve never looked better.”
I held his gaze a second too long and then closed the distance. The kiss was long, deep, the kind we used to give each other at the very beginning, when we still didn’t know each other’s flaws. When I pulled away, I stroked his cheek.
“Relax,” I told him. “This stays between us. Claudia doesn’t need to know.”
I took his hand and led him to the bedroom. There I took off my dress without hurrying and stood in front of him in lingerie, letting him look at everything he had lost. I saw him swallow hard, his cock already straining against his trousers.
“Damn,” he murmured. “Not everything’s the same. You’ve learned how to dress.”
“Does Claudia wear underwear like this too?” I asked, turning slowly so he could see my ass stretched tight in the pink thong. “With her figure, it must suit her better than it does me.”
“You look incredible,” he said, his voice rough. “And I don’t want to think about her right now.”
“All right. But then you have to do things to me you didn’t do when we were married. I’m not your wife anymore. Tonight I’m one of those sluts you used to fuck while you were still with me.” I lay back on the bed and spread my legs, letting him see how the thong fabric was already sticking to me with wetness. “Start there. Eat my cunt like you do with them.”
He didn’t need asking twice. He slid the thong down until he took it off over my ankles and knelt between my thighs. Before touching me at all, he paused to stare for a second, and I opened my legs wider so he could get a good look at what he had in front of him: swollen lips, glossy, parting on their own with need. Then he lowered his head and his tongue found me at once, flat and broad, dragging up from below to my clit in a long lick that arched my back. I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. It was nothing like I remembered; the son of a bitch had learned, and learned well.
“Why didn’t you do this when we lived together?” I panted, clutching the sheets.
He didn’t answer me. He sucked, licked, and savored every inch with a new patience, closing his lips around my clit and tugging gently until a filthy moan slipped out of me. He slid two fingers inside me, searching for that spot deep within, and kept sucking as he curved them again and again. I grabbed his head and pushed his face harder into my cunt, rubbing myself shamelessly against his mouth.
“Keep going, asshole, keep going, I’m going to come all over your fucking face,” I blurted, and he growled against my flesh, quickening his tongue.
Pleasure ripped me out of my body in one long shudder. I came against his mouth without holding back, squeezing his head between my thighs, feeling him take it all in, feeling him keep licking while I trembled and soaked his chin.
But I hadn’t planned this to just lie there receiving. While he stayed dressed from the waist down, his mouth shining with my orgasm, I sat up, pushed him gently, and knelt in front of him. I unbuttoned his trousers, pulled them down with his boxer briefs, and let them fall to the floor. His cock sprang out hard and thick, with a heavy drop already at the tip. I took it by the base, brought it to my face, and ran my tongue underneath it, from his balls to the head, looking him in the eye the whole time.
“Raquel…” he started to say, using an old pet name, but I shut him up by taking all of him into my mouth in one go, until I felt him hit the back of my throat.
I started slowly, coating him well with saliva, letting a string of it drip down to his balls so they’d be slick too. I closed my free hand around the base and moved it in the same rhythm as my mouth, squeezing and twisting my wrist each time I came up. I sucked hard, hollowing my cheeks, then took him out completely to lick his balls one by one while still working him with my hand.
“Where did you learn to do that?” he asked after a moment, his breathing ragged and his legs already starting to shake.
I stopped just long enough to answer, his cock resting against my cheek.
“You left me because you said I didn’t know how to suck cock. I didn’t want that to happen to me again with anyone. So I set out to practice. With many women. And many men.”
“Well, you did it,” he groaned. “Fuck, you’re amazing at it.”
I swallowed him down to the root again and this time I didn’t let him go. I took him in and out at a rough pace, letting my throat make that wet sound I knew drove men crazy. Saliva dripped down my chin and I didn’t care. I grabbed his balls with my other hand and squeezed them softly, and that was when I heard him slowly lose control, those guttural moans I had never gotten out of him in twelve years of marriage. He didn’t last much longer. I felt everything tense and his cock swell inside my mouth before he spilled. When he finished, spurts of hot cum against my palate, I swallowed it all without pulling away, draining him to the last drop, and looked up at him from below with shining lips, pleased to see the mix of pleasure and guilt on his face.
It took him a while to react. Then, as if something had switched on in him, he pushed me back onto the bed and slid his fingers inside me while asking in my ear how many men I had known since he left, whether they were bigger or smaller, whether better than him.
“There’s been a bit of everything,” I told him, writhing under his hand as he worked three fingers in and out at once. “And lately there’s one who gives me more pleasure than you ever did. He’s thicker and he fucks me in ways you never knew how.”
It wasn’t entirely true, but seeing his face change at the idea of having competition was worth the lie. His fingers moved more fiercely inside me, digging deep, while his other hand squeezed one breast and pinched the nipple with no gentleness at all. He lowered his head, bit it, sucked it hard, and his fingers kept pounding my cunt as if he wanted to prove something. He drove me to another orgasm that left me shaking, soaking his whole hand, soaking the sheet beneath me.
“When we were married you weren’t this hot,” he said, almost resentfully, pulling his fingers out and sucking them in front of me. “I think it’s time I fucked you properly.”
“All right,” I answered. “But not like when we were a boring married couple. Fuck me like you fuck Claudia. Or worse.”
He spread my legs wide, took hold of his cock, and rubbed it along the lips of my cunt a couple of times before pushing in. He entered in one go, all the way to the hilt, and I let out a guttural moan that drew a smile from him. I lifted one foot to rest it on his shoulder and he began to move with an intensity I didn’t know in him, with deep thrusts that knocked his balls against my ass. The idea of competing with a ghost had lit him up. The bed creaked, the headboard hit the wall, and I let myself go for a while, stroking my breasts, pinching my nipples for him, until I decided to remind him who was in charge that night.
“Switch positions. I want to be on top. I want to ride you until you’re dry.”
He looked surprised, but he lay back. I sat astride him, took his cock, and guided it into myself, sinking down slowly until I was impaled to the hilt. I set the pace myself, slow at first, rocking my hips in circles so he could feel every inch of my cunt tightening around him, then relentless, bouncing hard up and down, dropping my full weight until his balls slapped my ass. I grabbed his wrists and pressed his hands into my tits, forcing him to squeeze them, looking him in the eyes while he came apart beneath me.
“Look at me good,” I snapped without slowing down. “Look at the woman you left. Look how I use you.”
“Fuck, Raquel, fuck…”
“Turn around,” he finally begged, his voice broken. “I want to finish a different way. I want to try your ass.”
I got on all fours on the mattress, offering him my hips high and my face against the pillow. He came up behind me and I could hear him licking his lips at the view. He spit between my cheeks, spread the spit with his thumb and slid it into me slowly, twisting it, loosening me. Then he spit again, coated his cock, and pressed it against that hole we had never dared use when we were married. He pushed slowly, and slowly he worked his way in, gaining ground centimeter by centimeter until I felt his hips pressed to my ass. That gave him a new kind of arousal; I could tell by how he grabbed my cheeks and pulled them apart with his thumbs so he could see himself going in and out.
“So tight, fuck, so tight,” he growled. “With Claudia I never… she never lets me.”
“Then make the most of it,” I panted into the pillow. “Fuck my ass properly, asshole, give me everything.”
He began to thrust, harder and harder, faster and faster. I dropped one hand and rubbed my clit in time with his blows. Pleasure hit me fast; I came with his cock buried in my ass, screaming into the pillow, clenching around him. He lasted a little longer, until he yanked out, pressed it to my lower back, and came there in a long, hot spray that ran down my hip. He collapsed beside me, exhausted, his cock still shining with saliva and semen.
We fell asleep. In the morning his hand woke me, searching for me between my legs again. Insatiable. His fingers were already inside me, moving with the same familiarity he had recovered in just one night. I let him touch me until my body asked for more, and then I turned over, found him already hard beneath the sheet, took him back into my mouth, and woke him completely with a slow, deep blowjob, playing with the tip against my palate.
“Fuck,” he muttered through clenched teeth, his hands in my hair. “If you had sucked me like this when we were married, I would never have left.”
We did it again, on our sides first, with him behind me, lifting one leg and sliding into me that way, fucking me slow and deep while he licked the back of my neck and squeezed a breast. Then he put me on my back and climbed on top of me, and he rammed into me as if he were trying to reclaim territory that was no longer his, neck veins bulging, biting my nipples, whispering dirty things in my ear. He came inside this time, with a hoarse groan, and stayed still over me for a good while before pulling out. When he did, I felt his cum trickle between my thighs.
I got up and made breakfast. It was then, with a cup of coffee in hand, that he asked the question I had been expecting.
“Do you think we should try again?”
I looked at him and felt something like freedom. Not the resentment I would have had a year earlier, but absolute calm.
“Not at all,” I said, and smiled. “Why settle for one dish when I can choose the whole menu now?”
He left without insisting, with the face of a man who understands too late what he let slip away. I closed the door and drew a deep breath. It wasn’t revenge; it was justice.
***
But that wasn’t my only story that week. A couple of days later, a short circuit killed the bedroom lamp. I called Gonzalo, a neighbor from the landing, who had a knack for that sort of thing. He came right away and had it fixed in ten minutes.
“You don’t owe me anything,” he said when I offered to pay him. “It was nothing.”
But while he said that, his eyes weren’t on the lamp. They were on my cleavage and my thighs, roaming over me with a brazenness he thought he was hiding. Gonzalo wasn’t the hottest man in the building, but I had already learned that someone’s desire for me was worth more than any pretty face. And the idea of collecting the favor in another way seemed too tempting to pass up.
I stepped closer, took his face in my hands, and kissed him. He froze for a second, unable to believe it, before responding with months of held-back urgency. I felt him harden instantly against my hip.
“If you don’t tell Patricia anything,” I said, referring to his wife, “I can pay you another way.”
I unbuttoned my blouse slowly and revealed a purple bra that barely held up my breasts. He had me sit on the sofa, bent down, and kissed me again while he pulled my cups down and freed my breasts over the top. He took them into his mouth one after the other, sucking my nipples hungrily, lapping at them with anxious strokes, as if he’d been imagining it for years.
“They’re gorgeous,” he murmured against my neck, squeezing them with both hands. “Fuck, they’re outrageous.”
“Patricia has big ones too,” I said, just to hear the answer.
“But yours are something else. These tits are a sin.”
From where I was, it was easy to lower his pants. His cock sprang out, thicker than I would have guessed from his appearance, red with trapped blood. I took it, glanced at it for a second with a smile, and put it in my mouth without ceremony. I started sucking it eagerly, bobbing my head up and down, letting saliva run down my chin and onto my breasts. I licked the head in circles, pulled it out to spit on it and work it with my hand again, wet, and then swallowed him down to the root once more. He looked down at me, mouth open, unable to believe that the neighbor he ran into in the elevator was sucking his cock on his own sofa.
“Wait,” he panted, grabbing my hair to stop me. “Now it’s my turn. Let me give it back.”
I took off my thong and leaned back on the sofa. He knelt on the rug, tugged my hips to the edge, and spread my legs wide. He buried his face between my thighs and it turned out he was better than his looks promised. He licked my clit with his lips sealed around it, tugging softly, while he slid two fingers inside me and curled them, searching. When he found the spot, he pressed there and didn’t let go. He licked, sucked, and pumped his fingers until a rush of pleasure escaped against his mouth. I came with a long moan, gripping his head, rubbing my cunt over his face without shame. When he sat up, his chin was shining and there was a new smile on his face. He found my mouth and made me taste myself on his tongue.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed about this,” he confessed. “I’d see you in the building entrance and want you. More than once I thought about you when I was fucking Patricia. I’d close my eyes and imagine it was you.”
“Then stop dreaming,” I answered, pulling him toward me. “I want you inside me. Now.”
I told him to sit on the sofa and I climbed on top, astride him. I took his cock, rubbed it along the lips of my cunt to wet it well, and sank down slowly, feeling myself open, feeling him fill me. I let out the breath when he was all the way inside. I began to move with an agility that surprised him; despite being a little full-bodied, I knew exactly how to ride a man so he wouldn’t think about anything else. My tits bounced in his face and he captured them with his mouth, sucking desperately, while he dug his fingers into my hips to help me rise and fall.
“I haven’t enjoyed myself like this in ages,” he said, gripping my hips. “With Patricia everything is always the same, always in the dark, always the same thing. She never rides me, never sucks me like you do.”
“Then enjoy it, you dirty bastard, enjoy it,” I snapped, squeezing my cunt around his cock in time with my thrusts.
He couldn’t keep up with my pace for long. I felt him turn rock hard and his legs tense beneath me. He told me so, and I got off him just in time, knelt on the floor in front of him, and finished the job with my hand and mouth. He spilled some into my mouth and some over my chest, thick streams that ran between my breasts. I went to wash up, and when I came back I found him ready again, his cock already recovering, as if his body had been brought back to life.
“You’ve got amazing stamina,” I told him, smiling.
“It’s because of you. With you, I get hard just looking at you.”
I sat on him again, this time facing away from him. I took his cock from behind, positioned it, and let myself down onto it. I set a slower, deeper rhythm, bracing my hands on his knees for leverage, letting him see me in full as I rose and fell, my cunt stretched around him. I took one of his hands and brought it to my clit so he could rub it while I rode him.
“I’d love to do this with my wife,” he murmured in my ear, biting my earlobe, “but she’d never let me. She’s bitter. And you, fuck, you’re a goddess.”
The sad honesty of it almost made me laugh. I sped up, squeezing him from the inside with each drop. When he felt he was close, he told me so. I got off, turned around, knelt in front of him, and put him in my mouth again, sucking him fast while my hand helped. He finished like that, part in my mouth, part over my skin, over my breasts and neck. He stared at me like a man who doesn’t understand how he got here, with his cock still twitching between my lips.
We rested for a while, chatting about nothing, and then he asked, with the shy hope of someone requesting the impossible:
“Do you do it from behind too? In the ass, I mean. With Patricia it’s been years.”
“If that’s what you want,” I answered.
I got up and led him to the bedroom. I got on all fours on the bed, my ass high and on display for him, and heard him growl behind me at the sight. He climbed up behind me and stroked my cheeks, parting them with his hands. He bent down and ran his tongue over my hole, wetting it well, then spat on it. He coated his cock and pressed it against my little hole.
“Slow at first, it’s big,” I told him over my shoulder.
He pushed slowly and I felt him work his way in, felt the ring give and his head enter all the way. A small sting, then pleasure. He worked himself in centimeter by centimeter until I felt his thighs against mine.
“When I saw you walking down the hallway, I wondered what this would be like,” he said, his voice trembling. “The reality beat anything I imagined. What an ass, fuck, what an ass you’ve got.”
I was used to that kind of visit, so there was no pain, only pleasure that grew with each thrust. He started slow, enjoying the tightness, and gradually sped up until he was pounding me at a rough pace, gripping my hair and pulling my head back. I brought a hand down and rubbed my clit with two fingers while he opened my ass. For a good while, the only sounds were our heavy breathing, his hips slapping against my cheeks, and that filthy noise of cock going in and out. I came before he did, trembling all over, clenching around him, wetting my fingers. He followed soon after, holding my hips tightly, spilling inside with a long groan. I felt every pulse of his cock emptying into my ass.
He dressed in silence, still dazed, his fingers clumsy on the buttons. At the door he turned with an awkward smile.
“If anything ever breaks down, don’t hesitate to call me. Anything at all. The light, the faucet, anything.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied, and closed the door.
I stood alone in the living room, with a glass of wine and the calm certainty that this woman I had become was never going to ask anyone for permission again. Andrés had left believing he was leaving me broken. What he really did was set me free. And I had finally learned to enjoy it.
***
But that wasn’t my only story that week. A couple of days later, a short circuit killed the bedroom lamp. I called Gonzalo, a neighbor from the landing, who had a knack for that sort of thing. He came right away and had it fixed in ten minutes.
“You don’t owe me anything,” he said when I offered to pay him. “It was nothing.”
But while he said that, his eyes weren’t on the lamp. They were on my cleavage and my thighs, roaming over me with a brazenness he thought he was hiding. Gonzalo wasn’t the hottest man in the building, but I had already learned that someone’s desire for me was worth more than any pretty face. And the idea of collecting the favor in another way seemed too tempting to pass up.
I stepped closer, took his face in my hands, and kissed him. He froze for a second, unable to believe it, before responding with months of held-back urgency. I felt him harden instantly against my hip.
“If you don’t tell Patricia anything,” I said, referring to his wife, “I can pay you another way.”
I unbuttoned my blouse slowly and revealed a purple bra that barely held up my breasts. He had me sit on the sofa, bent down, and kissed me again while he pulled my cups down and freed my breasts over the top. He took them into his mouth one after the other, sucking my nipples hungrily, lapping at them with anxious strokes, as if he’d been imagining it for years.
“They’re gorgeous,” he murmured against my neck, squeezing them with both hands. “Fuck, they’re outrageous.”
“Patricia has big ones too,” I said, just to hear the answer.
“But yours are something else. These tits are a sin.”
From where I was, it was easy to lower his pants. His cock sprang out, thicker than I would have guessed from his appearance, red with trapped blood. I took it, glanced at it for a second with a smile, and put it in my mouth without ceremony. I started sucking it eagerly, bobbing my head up and down, letting saliva run down my chin and onto my breasts. I licked the head in circles, pulled it out to spit on it and work it with my hand again, wet, and then swallowed him down to the root once more. He looked down at me, mouth open, unable to believe that the neighbor he ran into in the elevator was sucking his cock on his own sofa.
“Wait,” he panted, grabbing my hair to stop me. “Now it’s my turn. Let me give it back.”
I took off my thong and leaned back on the sofa. He knelt on the rug, tugged my hips to the edge, and spread my legs wide. He buried his face between my thighs and it turned out he was better than his looks promised. He licked my clit with his lips sealed around it, tugging softly, while he slid two fingers inside me and curled them, searching. When he found the spot, he pressed there and didn’t let go. He licked, sucked, and pumped his fingers until a rush of pleasure escaped against his mouth. I came with a long moan, gripping his head, rubbing my cunt over his face without shame. When he sat up, his chin was shining and there was a new smile on his face. He found my mouth and made me taste myself on his tongue.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed about this,” he confessed. “I’d see you in the building entrance and want you. More than once I thought about you when I was fucking Patricia. I’d close my eyes and imagine it was you.”
“Then stop dreaming,” I answered, pulling him toward me. “I want you inside me. Now.”
I told him to sit on the sofa and I climbed on top, astride him. I took his cock, rubbed it along the lips of my cunt to wet it well, and sank down slowly, feeling myself open, feeling him fill me. I let out the breath when he was all the way inside. I began to move with an agility that surprised him; despite being a little full-bodied, I knew exactly how to ride a man so he wouldn’t think about anything else. My tits bounced in his face and he captured them with his mouth, sucking desperately, while he dug his fingers into my hips to help me rise and fall.
“I haven’t enjoyed myself like this in ages,” he said, gripping my hips. “With Patricia everything is always the same, always in the dark, always the same thing. She never rides me, never sucks me like you do.”
“Then enjoy it, you dirty bastard, enjoy it,” I snapped, squeezing my cunt around his cock in time with my thrusts.
He couldn’t keep up with my pace for long. I felt him turn rock hard and his legs tense beneath me. He told me so, and I got off him just in time, knelt on the floor in front of him, and finished the job with my hand and mouth. He spilled some into my mouth and some over my chest, thick streams that ran between my breasts. I went to wash up, and when I came back I found him ready again, his cock already recovering, as if his body had been brought back to life.
“You’ve got amazing stamina,” I told him, smiling.
“It’s because of you. With you, I get hard just looking at you.”
I sat on him again, this time facing away from him. I took his cock from behind, positioned it, and let myself down onto it. I set a slower, deeper rhythm, bracing my hands on his knees for leverage, letting him see me in full as I rose and fell, my cunt stretched around him. I took one of his hands and brought it to my clit so he could rub it while I rode him.
“I’d love to do this with my wife,” he murmured in my ear, biting my earlobe, “but she’d never let me. She’s bitter. And you, fuck, you’re a goddess.”
The sad honesty of it almost made me laugh. I sped up, squeezing him from the inside with each drop. When he felt he was close, he told me so. I got off, turned around, knelt in front of him, and put him in my mouth again, sucking him fast while my hand helped. He finished like that, part in my mouth, part over my skin, over my breasts and neck. He stared at me like a man who doesn’t understand how he got here, with his cock still twitching between my lips.
We rested for a while, chatting about nothing, and then he asked, with the shy hope of someone requesting the impossible:
“Do you do it from behind too? In the ass, I mean. With Patricia it’s been years.”
“If that’s what you want,” I answered.
I got up and led him to the bedroom. I got on all fours on the bed, my ass high and on display for him, and heard him growl behind me at the sight. He climbed up behind me and stroked my cheeks, parting them with his hands. He bent down and ran his tongue over my hole, wetting it well, then spat on it. He coated his cock and pressed it against my little hole.
“Slow at first, it’s big,” I told him over my shoulder.
He pushed slowly and I felt him work his way in, felt the ring give and his head enter all the way. A small sting, then pleasure. He worked himself in centimeter by centimeter until I felt his thighs against mine.
“When I saw you walking down the hallway, I wondered what this would be like,” he said, his voice trembling. “The reality beat anything I imagined. What an ass, fuck, what an ass you’ve got.”
I was used to that kind of visit, so there was no pain, only pleasure that grew with each thrust. He started slow, enjoying the tightness, and gradually sped up until he was pounding me at a rough pace, gripping my hair and pulling my head back. I brought a hand down and rubbed my clit with two fingers while he opened my ass. For a good while, the only sounds were our heavy breathing, his hips slapping against my cheeks, and that filthy noise of cock going in and out. I came before he did, trembling all over, clenching around him, wetting my fingers. He followed soon after, holding my hips tightly, spilling inside with a long groan. I felt every pulse of his cock emptying into my ass.
He dressed in silence, still dazed, his fingers clumsy on the buttons. At the door he turned with an awkward smile.
“If anything ever breaks down, don’t hesitate to call me. Anything at all. The light, the faucet, anything.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied, and closed the door.
I stood alone in the living room, with a glass of wine and the calm certainty that this woman I had become was never going to ask anyone for permission again. Andrés had left believing he was leaving me broken. What he really did was set me free. And I had finally learned to enjoy it.
