How I Met My Ex-Wife


This is a true story.

Names and locations have been changed.

This is the true story of how I met my ex-wife.


Once upon a time I was a snowboard instructor on Mount G. I had just returned from a couple of seasons in Colorado, Kiwi model girlfriend in tow. She was up at the mountain one day, hanging out in the lodge while I was teaching a private lesson, and my student and I ran into a coworker and her best friend. They were typical wannabe ski bunnies. Blonde hair, too much makeup, snowboard gear that obviously never gets worn. I thought it was a little bit strange that she and her friend were following my lesson and trying to talk with me while I was teaching, but they weren’t slowing us down, so we entertained the attention briefly. Our conversation centered around their snowboarding skills and how they would like to be snowboard instructors, but didn’t think they were good enough. The exchange lasted less than five minutes, and I didn’t give it another thought.

Flash forward two years.

I was working as the national brand manager for two Norwegian companies, traveling all over the country, managing sales, marketing, events, etc., snowboarding much less than I wanted, but still in the industry, still what all ski bums would consider super cool. Neither of the companies that I managed were well established, or super successful, yet. As such, I did a lot of driving. Ten to fifteen hour stretches behind the wheel were common. I had recently received a message on social media from a woman who claimed to have met me while snowboarding with her friend on Mt G a couple of years back. I remembered the exchange, albeit vaguely, and so I had very little recollection of her, and no expectation. Still, I’m a sucker for anyone who is interested in me. Chalk it up to low self-esteem. Anyway, phone conversations made the long drives much more tolerable. So we began having long conversations on the telephone while I was driving, mostly late at night. Our talk centered mostly around self improvement, eliminating excess baggage from our social lives, and what seemed to be common values.

A few months into Spring, after my grandfather had passed away and I was flying home from Lake Tahoe to attend his funeral, she agreed to pick me up from the airport. It was meant to be a very casual engagement, not even a date. She would meet me at the airport, we would stop and get some food, and then she’d drop me off at my house. My brother would drive to the funeral, and she would pick me up the following morning and drop me off at the airport, so I could fly back to Lake Tahoe. To my naïve mind this all seemed very innocent. Of course, things didn’t quite work out that way.

I had browsed her social media accounts, and so I knew what she looked like, since my hazy recollection of those five minutes on the ski slopes weren’t going to be of any help. When I arrived at the airport in Seattle, I found her waiting, looking exactly like I expected. Frumpy brimmed snowboarder hat, outdated jeans, horrible tennis shoes. She had no sense of personal style, and while anyone would have said she was cute, very few would have called her pretty. She had a rocking body, however, and I thought that if she got a better haircut, and dressed herself with some pride, she could be pretty hot. She was visibly nervous, but walking through the terminal and out through the parking garage to her car provided enough of a purposeful distraction to afford easier conversation.

We went out to sushi.

She claimed she had never had sushi before, and I actually believed her. She grew up in farmland, but not very far from Seattle. Still, her country upbringing had resulted in a pretty sheltered life. Her first boyfriend took her to her junior prom, and she lost her virginity that night. That was the night she became pregnant with her now four-year-old daughter, and raising a kid as a teenager had stunted her opportunities for social development. She had missed out on a lot of things that most of us take for granted. She had never had a real sex life. She had never even really dated. She missed the majority of the high school parties, Escort bayan and all of the college parties. She never did the drugs thing, or even the booze thing. These are all factors I should have considered, before diving into whatever we were about to get into. However, like I said before, I was not only a little lonely, spending long hours on the road by myself, but also very insecure. I sincerely enjoyed the attention that she gave me, and the boost to my ego that came along with it. Still, we had a very natural chemistry, and conversation never felt strange, forced, or lacking. In fact, it was very easy for us to talk on the phone for three or four hours without realizing how much time had passed.

And so it was at the sushi restaurant, when we found ourselves being kicked out after closing time. She drove me back to my house, and I invited her in to continue our conversation. Sure, it was late, but this was the first time we had seen each other face-to-face since that chance encounter on the mountain two years earlier. We had spent long hours conversing, and it felt like we had a lot of face to face catching up to do.

We sat at my kitchen table, my laptop open, listening to music while we talked. She pretended to be engrossed in my music library, having never heard of 90% of the artists in my playlists. I told myself it was just her interest in the bands and the music that kept her attention for so many hours. Shortly after 2 AM, she said that maybe she should be heading home, and I offered to let her stay the night. She said that her daughter was with her parents, and would be fine until mid-morning, but that she was very reluctant to stay the night, as she didn’t want this thing we were doing to get off on the wrong foot. I claimed to understand, and promised that I would be a good boy, and a gentlemanly host.

Of course, I was lying.

I don’t think it was a conscious decision, but I’m pretty sure that somewhere in the back of my head, I fully intended to have sex with her that night.

She moved around the table, and sat on my lap, side-saddle, facing my computer. I pretended to show her some more artists, and she pretended to be interested, at least for a few minutes. And then we began to kiss. She sat across my lap facing me while we made out for a few minutes, and then I pushed the chair back. She was small. Maybe 100 pounds, at the most. Her lithe, 5’7″ frame was pretty easy to move around. I picked her up from the hips and twisted her slightly, urging her to straddle me, and wrapped her arms around my neck. We made out like this for a few minutes longer, and then I suggested it was time to go to bed. She asked if I had anything she could wear for pajamas, and I said yes, of course.

I took her hand, and led her upstairs to my bedroom. She took off her jacket, and her sweatshirt, while I dug around in my drawers for a T-shirt and sweatpants. Her makeshift pajamas in hand, I slowly walked toward her, a sly smirk on my face, and said “Here, you can wear these.” I handed her the Tshirt and sweatpants, and then took my shirt off, unbuttoned my pants, and dropped them to the floor. Standing there in just my boxer shorts, I watched her stare at me for a full minute with a blushing smile spreading across her face, before shyly turning away, embarrassed, to take her pants off, and slide her T-shirt slowly over her head. She had a very small bagel of belly fat, and I could faintly make out the traces of stretch marks from when she gave birth. Her body was otherwise slim and tight, and her hips and ass had a shape that was clearly gained through childbirth. I could feel myself rising in arousal, and saw her eyes descend to acknowledge it. She truly had not planned on any hanky-panky that night, and so her lingerie was a simple affair, a basic pink padded push-up bra, and a light blue pair of hip hugger boy shorts. Still, she looked damn fine, and I didn’t want her to put the T-shirt and sweatpants on. I quickly walked over to her, grabbed the hand holding the pajamas, and with my other hand, reached up and locked my fingers in her hair. I pulled her face to mine, began kissing her, pulling Bayan Escort her hands toward me. “You know, if you put these on, I’m just going to have to take them off again.” I said, playfully.

She dropped the sweat pants and T-shirt to the floor. “We’re not having sex tonight.” She nervously replied, and I pulled her hand around to my back, as I reached around and pulled her closer. My now very engaged unit was pushing against her belly through the thin cotton of my boxer shorts, and that soft bagel of a tummy felt really nice. I slipped my left hand up her back to her bra strap, and as my fingers began to work at the clasp, she began to protest, weakly, without conviction. I pulled the kiss away, affording her the opportunity to say what she needed. “We’re not having sex…” she said, more a question then a statement.

“Right.” I confirmed, unclasping her bra and letting it hang loosely around her shoulders.

I took her head in both of my hands, steadied her head and kissed her super hard a moment longer, before guiding her head down to my chest.

She nibbled at my left nipple, and then licked down my torso across my abs to the waistband of my boxers.

I felt her hands sliding from my back, down across my ass cheeks, down the back of my legs, lingering at the backs of my knees, and then tickling my thighs, before grasping me on both sides of my flexed ass, squeezing hard, her fingernails digging in, and pulling my boxers down. The tip of my cock stuck for just a split second on the elastic waistband, before snapping up and smacking her right in the nose.

She yanked her head back reflexively, gulped, took a deep breath, and then smiled mischievously.

She looked up at me with a naughty grin, and opened her mouth, extending her tongue to flick at my tip. She made three wet circles around the head, and then opened wide and took my cock all the way in, sliding her face forward until her nose was flat against my pubic bone.

I let my fingers tangle loosely in her hair, and gently guided her face back and forth and back and forth as she began to drool and slobber all over my swollen reddening excitement.

She was doing an amazing job, although I could tell that she was not very practiced. She let one hand remain clamped to my ass, and brought the other one around to squeeze and tug on my cock while she blew.

I couldn’t leave her to this for long, or I’d be spent, so I pulled her head away, tugging the hair on the back of her head, and made her stand in front of me. I reached up with my free hand and pulled her bra loose, letting it drop to the floor. Her breasts were perfect handfuls of delicate white flesh, two soft cups of young womanhood, again with those faint stretch marks that I found so irresistible. Her nipples were larger than average, and not just because of her arousal. Protruding from small, light pink areolas, they stuck out like pinky fingers pointing straight at my eyes. I let go of her hair and reached down to pull her left breast to my mouth. My tongue found her nipple as hard as candy, and I flicked my tongue back and forth across the tip before sucking the nipple in and giving it a quick little bite. She gasped and nearly jumped, but my other hand had reached up to the side of her face, cupping her ear, and I pulled her face to mine and began kissing her once more.

We remained like this for a few minutes, my left hand pulling her face to mine, as my right hand squeezed and pressed her breasts. Feeling her arousal in my hands had the pre-cum forming at the tip of my intentions, but I was trying to maintain the thin lie that I wasn’t trying to get her pants off.

There was no denying the vibe I was putting off, however, so I tossed off the façade, pushed her back on to the bed, and yanked those light blue hiphugger boy shorts down her long, thin legs. Her neatly manicured pubic hair betrayed her claims that she wasn’t trying to get laid, but I appreciated the effort.

“Oh, God, is this really happening?” She whispered, nervously. “We’re not having sex,” I replied, “I’m just gonna make you cum like a garden hose.”

I Escort rubbed my hands firmly from her ankles up over her knees and across her thighs, slowly massaging up her torso to her breasts, twisted her nipples, and then slid my hands back down across her soft stomach. I grabbed each of her knees and pulled her legs apart, parting her labia, and letting it breathe. Her lips were pink and swollen, quivering slightly, and she was soaked. I began at her knees, kissing, nibbling, and licking down her inner thighs. I planted little red bites around where her ass cheeks curved into her vulva, and then slathered long trails of saliva up the line her razor had left.

I pushed my lips firmly against her pubic bone, and then slid my tongue down onto the top of her clit. Her long, bony fingers clenched the bed, knuckles white, as she writhed in ecstasy. Gasping, moaning, and bucking, her head and heels pushed the rest of her off the bed to meet me. I slid my hands up and under her, tightly grasping her ass, my nails digging into her cheeks, as I sucked on her labia, and buried my face in her pussy. I slid my tongue in as far as it would go, my nose and cheeks drowning in her juices. I held it in there flicking it back and forth for as long as I could hold my breath, and then pulled back, gasping for air, before plunging in again. My nose was pressing into the swollen red button of her clitoris, as convulsive waves rolled over her body with each thrust. Her fluids were soaking the bed, running down my cheeks and chin, and I begin licking from the top of her clit down to her perineum. She reached up with both hands, grasping my hair in her fists, and pulled my face away, squeezing her thighs tightly together.

Her eyes were rolling in the back of her head as she moaned in waves of orgasm, so I grabbed both hips and flipped her over onto her stomach, pulling her ass up into the air, her knees on the bed. I once again began licking from her clit, up the swollen river of her pussy, to the little pink button of her asshole. I swirled my tongue around her ass a few times, pushing the tip just barely inside once and then twice. Her gasp was one of surprise, and intense pleasure. She was clearly new to ass play.

“We’re not having sex,” I said, “but hold on tight, I think you’re gonna like this.”

Grasping both ass cheeks, I pushed myself up, dug my nails in to the soft flesh, and slid my eager, pulsing cock up to meet her swollen lips. Hands on her ass, I let my pulsing member slide up and down and up and down both sides of her labia, teasing her dilating pussy with my gooey head, before plunging it hard, balls deep, thrusting toward the roof of her head. A scream shot out of her throat like a tornado siren as the first wave of orgasm gushed out around my cock and splashed onto the sheets.

Four more waves of cum splashed out with each of my next thrusts, as her scream transformed into panting, gasping moans. I settled into a pounding, bucking rhythm, her small, erect breasts swinging wildly against her torso. A puddle had formed on the bed beneath her, and her knees slipped, gave out, and she fell down onto her side.

I took her right leg and draped her knee over my shoulder, deepening my penetration, and continued to slap my thighs against hers.

Finally, I felt my climax rising up my spine, so I pulled out of her, slid forward, and pushed myself up with my arms to straddle her torso. She leaned forward, extending her tongue, so I reached back and grabbed the back of her head, sliding my erupting orgasm into her mouth.

The first spurt was all she could handle, so the second and the third landed splashing across her face. I drained myself onto her tits, then took her head in my hands, and kissed her until I could no longer taste my cum in her mouth.

She scooped the rest of my jizz off her face with her hand, and wiped it on the bed, and then rubbed the rest around on her tits and stomach before licking her fingers.

We got up and chased each other into the bathroom, took turns using the toilet and washing our faces, and I grabbed a big towel for the bed. Her lithe little body melted effortlessly into my big spoon, and the blissful warmth of skin on skin had us both asleep in no time.

We awoke like this in the morning, had a repeat performance in the shower, and then I made her breakfast.

It was one hell of a first date.

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