Ex-girlfriends Should Be Avoided

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Editor’s Note: this story contains fetish content.

There are valid reasons why couples break up. Few breakups are amicable, and many can be hell. Sometimes, those couples believe they made a mistake and attempt to reconcile, but the reunions are short-lived, more volatile and less passionate than the original liaison.

Such was my experience with Kathryn.

We met online, and she had recently separated from her husband. They had two children; one was eighteen while the other was sixteen. While her dating profile gave full disclosure of these facts and some saucy insights into her sexual appetites, it was against my better judgement that I agreed to a date.

Our first meeting almost ended in disaster. Kathryn made the journey into the city, and we agreed to meet at a particular venue. Ninety minutes later, I was still waiting for her to emerge from the train station and feeling like I was played for a chump.

Giving up hope, and with a rising sense of anger, I patronised the local bars and pubs, making my way home, seemingly empty-handed. Six hours after our proposed meeting time, I was sitting at The Palace in Sydney’s Chinatown district, nursing a jug of Singapore’s finest — and deadliest – ale while staring blankly at my unanswered text messages.

Suddenly, a deluge of text flashed across my screen from a very apologetic Kathryn. She claimed that her phone had died when she arrived in Sydney, took the wrong exit because she was not familiar with the station (which was forgivable), sat in a park for ages trying unsuccessfully to recharge her phone. Finally, a good Samaritan agreed to share his power pack with Kathryn so that she achieved the minimum level of charge to contact me.

“Where are you?” I text.

“At the station,” Kathryn replied, “Platform 18.”

“Stay there,” I furiously typed, “I’ll be right there.”

I chugged just under a litre of Tiger beer that left me bloated and unbalanced as I staggered the short distance towards the station. Wading through the crowd waiting for a train, I found Kathryn slumped against the platform administrator’s office, checking her phone.

“Kathryn?” I panted, instantly recognising her from her online photos.

“Oh, Jason,” She replied, rising to her feet and embracing me, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I reassured her, “We here now.”

At that moment, her train arrived. I asked her if she wanted to take it home, and we could reschedule our date for the following weekend.

“No, I’m happy to wait for the next one,” She beamed while checking the timetable.

That gave us an hour, and I suggested the Aurora Hotel across the road from the train station. Kathryn eagerly assented, and as the sun set in the west, we secured a table on the balcony overlooking the station.

“Cheers,” I toasted, “To retrieving victory from the jaws of defeat!”

My beer clashed against Kathryn’s cider, and she sheepishly took a sip.

“Do you want to charge your phone?” I asked when I noticed the plug beneath our table, “I have a charger in my backpack.”

“That would be fantastic,” Kathryn replied, “I need to reassure my girls that all is okay.”

“Good idea,” I replied after hooking her up to the power.

As Kathryn dialled the number, I made a discrete detour to the bathroom, where I relieved the gastronomic pressure caused by the overconsumption of Tiger beer. I seriously thought I was going to spew the contents of my stomach.

“All good?” I enquired after returning to Kathryn.

She shot me a cute smile, assured me that the situation was under control, and thanked me for my consideration.

While we chatted, we both took the time to evaluate each other. Kathryn was attractive with sparkling eyes, a button nose and a wide mouth. She sported a thick main of brown hair that adorned her shoulders. Kathryn was short, stocky and wide. Her online profile told me her breasts were C-cup, but they looked more prominent in the layers of clothing worn on this frigid, late-Spring Sunday.

Of course, we both knew what the other looked like before meeting, and our messaging gave us some indication of the chemistry between us. However, after meeting in the flesh, following the day’s drama, was when I knew I wanted to spend quality time with Kathryn.

She was in complete agreement, and the time flew by to the point where she, purposefully, missed her last train home.

“Take me to your place,” She whispered in my ear as we were ensconced in a foetid alley around the back of the pub.

The landlord called time, and we reluctantly departed his establishment. I was visibly intoxicated, and Kathryn was slurring her words, but our resurrected date was successful.

“Kiss me,” Moaned Kathryn when we spilt onto the street.

Our lips met perfectly, and the passion level was off the scale.

“Someone’s excited,” She breathed when we broke our kiss, and Kathryn made the bold move to grab my crotch and squeeze.

“Easy,” I hissed, illuminated by a streetlight, “Not here.”


I looked around nervously casino siteleri as there were plenty of people everywhere and aware of what we were doing. Seeking to avoid a public indecency charge, I ushered Kathryn to the rear of an automotive premises that was the darkest place I could find while remaining close enough to the train station.

Kathryn was all over me. She was kissing me, giving me hickies and rapidly unbuckling my belt in a poor attempt to free my rapidly hardening cock.

“I was yours the moment you bent over and got me the charger,” She panted, “That arse of yours flooded my panties.”

“Really?” I asked, “Prove it.”

Kathryn straightened up, grabbed my hand in hers while simultaneously opening her black leggings.

“No panties,” I gently chided her before realising Kathryn was hairless down below.

My hand was forcefully directed towards Kathryn’s steaming cunt, and sure enough, she was dripping wet.

“Oh, fuck,” She hissed as her knees buckled slightly as my fingers penetrated her moist box,” Stick them in!”

I did and easily managed two digits with the possibility of more. Kathryn gripped me hard as she forcefully grunted into my shoulder. She came in my embrace as my fingers sloshed around in her slime.

As I held Kathryn in my arms as she breathed heavily, recovering, I glanced across at the station and witnessed her final train leaving the platform.

“Oh, shit,” I whispered with urgency, “That’s your last train.”

“I know,” Kathryn replied calmly, “Yours’s hasn’t.”

True, suburban trains ran later than country services, and I lived only ten minutes away from the CBD.

“I have a housemate,” I said, “A woman, and she won’t be best pleased hearing us go at it.”

“Then we’ll be quiet,” Kathryn replied, finally freeing my cock.

Dropping to her knees, Kathryn took me in her mouth without the slightest hesitancy and, with expert skill from someone who had been married for twenty-odd years, brought me off with surprising ease. The last time that happened, I was twenty-odd years old!

“Yummy!” Exclaimed Kathryn after swallowing my load and cleaning me up before retrieving a water bottle and rinsing her mouth.

“Can’t have been that good,” I joked.

“I love drinking sperm,” She replied, “It’s my second favourite drink, but it’s so salty.”

We made our way back to my shared house where, luckily, my purple-haired land whale of an SJW had retired for the night. Given our states of inebriation, we attempted to use the bathroom and make our way to my bedroom as quietly and quickly as we could, where we promptly fell asleep in each other’s arms.


The following day, I called in sick to work. Kathryn and I immediately began playing, but she needed to use the toilet. However, my housemate seemed to take an inordinate amount of time preparing for work.

“Stop touching me,” Joked Kathryn, holding her stomach, “Otherwise, I’ll piss your bed.”

I knew from Kathryn’s online dating profile that she expressed an interest in anal sex and golden showers, among others. Before the meeting, we talked about some of our kinks, but I was not game enough to discuss the yellow arts. However, Kathryn sent me many photos of her arse plugged with sex toys that I often wanked over.

“Here,” I said, handing her my non-used gym bottle, “Go in there until my housemate leaves.”

“I can’t do that,” Kathryn giggled, “My aim’s not that good, and I’ll wet your sheets.”

“Fuck the sheets,” I snorted while gently wanking my cock, “I’ll wash them after she leaves.”

Suddenly, Kathryn’s eyes sparkled, and she told me to hold the bottle next to her hairless fuckbox. She used two fingers to part her fleshy lips and looked towards the bottle.

“There’s too much pressure,” She softly chuckled, trying to keep the noise down.

“Why?” I asked, eyes bulging and cock groaning under the weight of expectation.

“I’ve never peed in front of a man before,” She replied while tilting her head backwards.

“Just relax and let it go.”

“I’d prefer to be doing this on the toilet.”

“Well, you can’t do that until the housemate leaves for work.”

“When will that be?” She hissed; the pressure was now becoming unbearable.

I looked at the clock on the wall, which indicated a time just after 8:30 AM, and I said that it must be anytime now.

“I can’t hold it,” Kathryn gasped as an explosive golden stream shot out of her swampy cunt.

Of course, her stream went everywhere but the bottle. My sheets soaked up Kathryn’s friendly fire while my hand, holding the bottle, was saturated. The pungent aroma of Kathryn’s piss flared my nostrils as she attempted to aim for the bottle.

The bottle filled up quickly, and Kathryn showed no signs of letting up. A moment before the expected overflow, we heard the annoying stomp of the ugly SJW down the hall, past my bedroom and slammed the door in disgust. Okay, she knew that I brought someone back for the evening.

“Off you go!” I said, and Kathryn leapt canlı casino from the bed and ran down the hallway to the bathroom, her pussy dribbling droplets of gold along the way.

While she was gone, I licked my hand and took a swig from the bottle. Fuck! Kathryn’s piss tasted good, despite its heat and extreme saltiness. I felt such excitement because I have not had a partner into golden showers in the best part of a decade, and I missed that kink.

“Fuck, that feels better,” Giggled Kathryn when she returned to my bedroom, “What did you do with the bottle?”

“Over there,” I said, pointing towards the computer table, “I’ll empty it later.”

Kathryn looked in the direction that I pointed, glanced back towards me, and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Did you taste it?”

“I did,” I confirmed, not wanting to lie but also seeking to gauge Kathryn’s reaction, “And I liked it.”

Kathryn flopped on the pissy bed following that simple admission and kissed me furiously before engulfing my cock down her throat.

We fucked in various positions, but when Kathryn got on her hands and knees and presented her butt, I inserted my thumb in her wrinkled O-ring at the exact moment I guided my glistening cock inside her pussy.

Kathryn exhibited no reaction as I thumbed her arsehole and worked her cunt.

“How’s your arse feel?” I asked when I noted her dirty hole open.

“Doesn’t hurt.”

With seeming consent, I withdrew my cock and pushed it instead roughly into her spongey bung.

“Oh,” She hissed, “It’s probably not clean back there.”

Sure enough, when I withdrew my diamond head, there were perceptible traces of brown goo along the length of my shaft.

“Sorry about that,” Kathryn confessed, “I wasn’t prepared for anal sex on a first date.”

All women should prepare for anal sex on a first date, I fumed internally, especially when they advertise that butt fucking is a kink on their online dating profile.

We both proceeded to the bathroom and cleaned up. Returning to the bedroom, Kathryn took my cock in her mouth again and revived me quickly.

“Do you like your butt penetrated?”

I am ambivalent about anal penetration. It is not unpleasant, but it does not bring me off.

“It’s okay,” I answered, not divulging my bisexual experience, “The more lubricant, the better.”

“Can I finger your butt?” Kathryn asked expectantly while holding my spit covered shaft in her hand.

“Be my guest.”

Kathryn proceeded to administer one of the best rim jobs that I experienced to date. When she judged that I was relaxed enough, Kathryn inserted a sausage finger gingerly into my dirty hole. To my surprise, my O-ring eagerly accepted it without irritation or discomfort. Eventually, Kathryn worked in two fingers and blew me to a thundering climax.

“What a fucking load,” Gasped Kathryn as she struggled to contain my orgasm in her mouth. She let the overflow splash across her face.


After a sensual shower together, I took Kathryn to lunch at a local Thai restaurant, where we got to know each other some more. What struck me about my date was how naïve she was about the world. Kathryn had not left Australian shores, rarely left the town she lived in and had little sexual experience other than her marriage. This last trait seemed odd because Kathryn had an appetite and confidently knew her way around a male body.

“Porn,” She replied when I asked about her bedroom abilities, “Except the peeing in a bottle thing.”

“That was so fucking hot!” I said, my crotch twitching.

Kathryn blushed and divulged that she found pissing a very sexual act that she fantasised a lot about but had never acted upon it until that morning that she unleashed her bladder on my bedsheets. Kathryn even admitted that she diddled herself on the toilet after she left my bedroom for the bathroom.

“Come hard?” I asked, growing hard over my meal.

Kathryn’s blush was all the reply I needed.

Later that day, we had several drinks at one of the many suburban pubs where I lived. By mid-afternoon, Kathryn had a confession.

“I enjoyed the feeling of your cock in my arse,” She said, sipping the last of her drink, “Would love to feel you come inside me.”

“I think that could be arranged,” I replied with a smile and a rapidly inflating cock.

“Let’s go,”

We went back to my place. I looked at the time, conscious that my housemate could return at any time.

Kathryn and I tumbled onto the bare mattress where my cock was in her mouth in less than a minute as my bedding drying on the line. Moments later, I was rock hard and ready to go.

“You want some pussy action first?” I asked when Kathryn climbed onto my computer chair and offered me her peach.

“No,” She said emphatically, “I want to feel your cock come inside my arse.

I grabbed the hem of Kathryn’s dress and threw it across her back. While I would typically rim a gorgeous pucker, there was no time because the housemate would be home shortly.

“Shit!” Hissed Kathryn, kaçak casino irritated by my eagerness, “Gentle.”

“Sorry,” I replied and slowed my pace until she gave me the okay to proceed.

Kathryn’s backdoor was super tight, and it felt great, strangling my cock. She came several times during her arse reaming, but my orgasm was proving elusive. Time was ticking on, and the blue-haired land whale was waddling down the street, inching ever closer to home.

“Do you want me to change positions?” Asked a sweat-covered Kathryn, sensing my anxiety at not being able to climax.

“Nah, I’m nearly there,” I lied as I increased the tempo of my butt fucking, “Just hope the SJW doesn’t come home.”

As soon as those words were uttered, I heard the traditional jangle of keys at the front door that was adjacent to my bedroom.

“Shit!” I hissed as I ceased my pumping.

“Fuck!” Whispered Kathryn, “I was about to come again.”

“So was I!”

We said nothing while holding our breath as the heavy footfalls thundered down the hallway.

“Can you come quietly?” I asked as my prick twitched inside Kathryn’s tight bung.

“I’m not going to come now,” She whispered, “But I still want to feel your seed inside my arse.”

Despite the interruption, I quietly but violently exploded up Kathryn’s funky shitter minutes later.

“Mm, that was nice,” She whispered while slumped in my computer chair.

My spasming prick was in her face, and I was unprepared for what Kathryn did next. She pulled my hips towards her and took my deflating but sensitive pole in her mouth, oblivious to where it has just been.

“Can you take me to the station,” Kathryn asked after spitting my softened penis from her mouth.

“Sure,” I said, grabbing my shirt, “But we must leave quietly.”

Minutes later, we stole out of the house undetected by the SJW and made our way to the train station. Both Kathryn and I meant to part ways, but for some reason, I jumped on the train and gentlemanly escorted Kathryn back to her country town.


For the next four months, Kathryn and I enjoyed a fantastic relationship where we both got to explore our sexual kinks. Anal sex was a staple, but I tried multiple times to interest Kathryn in water sports. However, she was very reluctant, afraid of letting go, knowing that it would be a messy affair.

The closest I came to convincing Kathryn to dabble in the yellow arts occurred on one sweltering summer evening over Christmas when her girls were absent. I was deeply ploughing Kathryn’s arsehole when she began screaming her climax. Suddenly, she threw me off her and ran to the bathroom, groaning loudly. I followed and watched, transfixed as Kathryn diddled herself to a pissy orgasm in the shower.

Ultimately, however, our relationship ran aground through a combination of divorce angst, Kathryn’s bratty kids that did not like me and privilege. By privilege, I meant that Kathryn was accustomed to having life provided to her by her husband. She took exception to paying her way in a post-marriage environment. Instead, she expected me to pay for everything. So, we broke up but occasionally chatted through the ‘magic’ of Facebook.

Over the following two years, Kathryn and I exchanged messages intermittently. What struck me as odd was she initiated the contact, and we would exchange several spicy messages before she went dark on comms for weeks or even months at a time.

A typical opening salvo would be along the lines of “You horny? Get in touch.”. I would respond and not receive a follow-up for several days. On one occasion, Kathryn sent me a picture of her latest partner with an erect penis stating that she would like to watch him fuck me before she was DP’d.

“You take that cock up your shitter?” I asked, sceptical that the image was genuine.

“Sometimes,” She responded sometime later.

“I’ve also learnt to take piss on and in me,” Was another random contact. When I replied by asking whether Kathryn pissed on her partners, I was met by static.

Such antics carried on, including the tease of meetings inevitably followed by fake apologies that I just got on with my life and archived Kathryn to the back of my mind.

One Saturday, I was shopping at my local mall – a thankless task – and was utterly oblivious to my surroundings. Shuffling towards the checkout with a basket of CDs and DVDs, I received a tap on the shoulder. Turning around, I looked into the sparkling eyes of a much chunked-up Kathryn, who I did not initially recognise.

“Jason!” She screeched, “So good to see you!”

Given that there was no logical reason for the two of us to be present in the same suburb, at the same shop, at the same time.

“Serendipity,” Gushed Kathryn when I expressed my surprise at a surprisingly convenient ‘chance’ meeting.

I was caught at a weak moment, having recently broken up with someone else in predictably nasty circumstances. Kathryn looked great, was pouting and flashing her eyebrows at me. Despite my better judgement, I asked her for a drink which she immediately accepted.

Minutes later, Kathryn and I were sat together staring at the thundering rain from the comfort of the tavern, next door to the mall. She ordered a Rekorderlig cider, and I supped on my usual beer.

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