Comforting my Ex

Well, I admit that it's been an uncomfortable few weeks but I think that at last we'll be able to put the upheaval and drama behind us and get our lives back on track. So, as I sit waiting for my wife to finish showering, I'll need to tell you some background. My name is Dave; Dave Swinburn. I left school at sixteen and got an apprenticeship with a local agricultural engineering company. It turns out that, despite me not being academically gifted, I'm actually pretty competent with machinery, particularly the big gear on farms. Only eight years later, as a twenty four year old, I make good money and my job is about as secure as you can get.

The next thing you need to understand is about Katie; I met her when she moved here to study biochemistry at the local university. She met my sister, Eleanor, there and they became BFFs almost immediately. My wife, Sophie, insists that they are closer than most siblings.

So, getting back to the point, Ellie introduced me to Katie; I was besotted at once, and we were a couple all through her three year course. We went everywhere together. I paid of course. By then I was nineteen and earning and the girls were struggling to get by on their student loans.

All good things come to an end, though. And, after graduation, Katie got a job offer that she couldn't refuse, working in a pharmaceutical research lab about three hundred miles away. I offered to look for work in the area but she put her hand on my cheek and told me that she couldn't live with the guilt of tearing me from my family and friends and that it was time to part ways. That was three years ago.

About six months after Katie left, I was in the pub with a group of lads from the workshop when a gang of lasses sat at the next table. Their table was short a couple of seats and we had some spare so we passed them across. That broke the ice and we got chatting. Nothing heavy, just amiable banter between the tables. There was one girl though, that I couldn't stop glancing at. Quite tall for a lass, stacked up top too, but not fat, just booby. I watched her as she went to the bar for a round. She had a gorgeous bum and her tight jeans showed it off to perfection. She was pretty too, without being 'glam' if you know what I mean. She was the quietest of her group; not that she said nothing, but she seemed to think before speaking, unlike some of her friends.

The next time she got up, to use the loos, I followed her as far as the bar and ordered a round for me and a couple of the other guys. When she came back I caught her eye and asked if I could order her a drink too. She said not, but thanked me and we started chatting.

"You've been staring at me all night," she observed.

"I meant no offence," I apologised. "But a lass as good looking as you must be used to it."

"Very slick," she complimented me. "You're a proper charmer aren't you?"

I was confused. I'm going to have to be honest here. I hear people talking about social cues and reading the room and it's like I'm the only one that doesn't 'get it'.

"It's only the truth," I insisted. "You're really pretty and easy to talk to."

She looked at me thoughtfully; it actually felt like I was in an airport scanner. She must have liked what she saw though. A six foot mechanic, clean hands and nails, neatly groomed and drinking sensibly. She held her hand out. "Phone." She demanded.

I took out my phone, unlocked it and handed it across. She took it and paused. "Are you seeing anyone? I'm serious here. Have you a girlfriend, boyfriend or even a gender fluid significant other? I won't be the other woman."

"Single as they come," I reassured her. "The last person to call me her boyfriend moved away months ago and the few girls I've dated since, probably don't even remember my name."

She considered for a moment and the sent a text message. I heard a notification sound from her bag. "There. You have my number. File it under 'Sophie' in your contacts. Call me if you want. But," here she looked intently at me. "Don't play games. I think I might like to get to know you, but I haven't the patience for guys who fuck me about. If you're interested, call: if you're not, then don't."

She handed back my phone, smiled and went back to her friends. I paid and collected the three pints from the barman then made my way to my mates' table and carefully set the beers down. Gary must have noticed my diversion. "You dog!" he gloated, raising his hand for a high five.

I left him hanging. "Seriously, Gaz? Are you fourteen?"

I picked up my pint and noticed Sophie looking approvingly from the other table. As the night progressed the lines blurred somewhat between the groups to the point where she and I ended up sitting opposite each other, just talking. It was nice; nothing intense; which schools we went to, what we did for a living, where we lived. As we parted in the car park at about eleven that evening, she kissed my cheek and whispered, "Just for the record, I've enjoyed my first date with you." Then she went to join her friends who were ribbing her, chanting, "Oooohhh, Sophie's got a boyfriend." from where they were waiting along the street.

It was only ten minutes to my flat, and I was halfway there when the possible significance of her comment hit me. Good girls didn't consider sex until the third date. Sophie might just have moved us along the process. I made a note to stop in at the pharmacy at lunchtime the next day.

When I got home, I put the kettle on and, while I waited for my tea to brew, sent a text. "Enjoyed tonight. Will call tomorrow." I didn't use cutesy text speak; that didn't seem like 'us'.

She replied five minutes later. "Me too. Looking forwards."

I slept well that night and the following morning, before I left for work, I sent, "can I call you at lunchtime?"

My phone chirped as I drove to the workshop. "Please. About 12:30."

I did, and we made a date to go to the cinema. The next date, three days later was a nice meal at an Italian restaurant. We ended up in my bed after the meal. She was impressed that my flat was clean and tidy; she was impressed that my bed had clean sheets; she was impressed that I had a choice of condoms and she was even more impressed by my dick. I'm not porn-star huge but I am entitled to be a little smug. I also enjoy cunnilingus, so I am doubly appreciated in bed.

Our first time together was just raw sex. Neither of us had been laid in well over a month and we just needed to fuck. Oh, and how we did. After our first round which consisted of five minutes licking her out and ten minutes trying to pound her through the bed and into the basement flat below, I collapsed on top of her, those magnificent tits even more glorious in the flesh. Eventually, I slipped out of her and, as a gentleman should, rolled to one side and tried to stay awake.

"Well," she murmured, contentedly. "That was everything I could have hoped for."

"Absolutely," I managed to gasp as I tried to get my breath back.

We lay basking in the afterglow for quite a while until I went to use the bathroom, lose the contraceptive and generally clean up. On my return, Sophie demonstrated her own oral skills, bringing me to the point where another condom was required. She rolled it on for me and straddled my thighs, carefully feeding my dick inside her. She gave a little moan of satisfaction as she wiggled her hips to get comfortable.

"David," she said. "While I have your undivided attention. What is this? Are we fuck buddies or is this a relationship?" She eased backwards and forwards. "You're getting fucked either way, so it isn't a trick question."

I thought that I understood. "I'd like to see you again. And I'd really like to do this again. If you feel the same, then I won't date another woman until you tell me we're through."

That seemed to satisfy her as she gave her hips another wiggle, said, "Agreed, we're exclusive, a couple." And then she took her turn, riding me like a bicycle down a cobbled street.

We were a sweaty contented mess when she'd finished with me. The lottery of life meant that my earlier orgasm delayed my second one while hers had her so aroused that I swear she came twice more before I filled the condom teat.

This time it was her turn to collapse on top of me. It was no hardship though. I'd watched in pure admiration as her magnificent tits had bounced in every possible direction as she fucked me, having them snuggled up against my chest, glazed with our combined sweat, was an absolute delight.

"You like my boobs; don't you?" she murmured contentedly into my ear as she unwound.

"I like everything about you," I yawned. "The boobs are just a bonus."

"Because you said that so nicely," she purred sleepily. "You can fuck them in the morning."

We lay like that for ages, then nature called and we took turns in the bathroom; each having a quick shower before climbing back into bed. She stayed the night and delivered the promised tit-fuck when we woke up. She seemed content with that, as the previous evening's vigorous sex had left her a little sore.

Over breakfast we settled our relationship boundaries. Sophie started. "I enjoy sex and I really like sex with you. You can ask me to do anything, but no means no. I don't share, so no threesomes, but you can check back every year or so if we're still together and I won't be offended."

She gave me an understanding smile. "Women fantasise about two men too. I know that makes some men feel insecure. I'm not going to ask in the foreseeable future but, if I do and you say no, that's okay as well."

I liked her open approach. And told her I agreed.

"Good," she continued. "Now, priorities. We're exclusive but not engaged. My family comes first, then my job, then you. If you want to have your own priorities, then tell me. If our relationship changes then we can reconsider."

I mulled over what she'd said. "I don't disagree with anything you've suggested. But why this much detail?"

"Experience," she said, bitterly. "My last boyfriend claimed that everyone pays for a lap dance at a mate's stag party. He also thought that there was nothing wrong with just chatting up women in bars on their weekend in Magaluf. Chatting! I saw the damn photos before his stupid pals took them off-line." She was getting angry and upset now. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "So this time," she continued. "With you, I want us to be clear. I don't want to be accused of being controlling, but I expect to be treated with the same consideration that I'll be giving you." She gazed across the table. "Is that fair?"

"Absolutely," I agreed.

That conversation was the start of our relationship proper. Two months later, my parents insisted on inviting my girlfriend for Sunday lunch. They loved her the moment mum opened the door and Sophie presented her with a small bouquet of fresh flowers. The meal went well. Even my dad, a quiet thoughtful man, seemed impressed and not only with Sophie's impressive bosom.

Ellie was quiet throughout the meal and I commented as much to Sophie as we left. "She hates me," was Sophie's response. "She misses Katie and I'm not good enough as a replacement. Your ex is a graduate biochemist and I work for a builders' merchant." I thought about that on the way home.

Ellie's issues apart, our relationship bloomed. Two months later, I proposed and six months after that we were married. Ellie asked if Katie could be invited; Sophie's reply, via me, was a simple no.

We'd been married a little over a year when Ellie rang me. "Katie's moving back," she informed me, breathlessly. Her boyfriend cheated on her and she's devastated."

"That's a shame," I sympathised. I saw Sophie glance across to see what was wrong. I shook my head. Not our concern. She went back to her magazine.

"She's got a transfer to the development lab on the industrial estate. I've told her she can stay with me." Ellie sounded excited. I would have hoped that she'd have been more concerned about her mate being dumped, but that was my sister. Mind you, she can be a self centred bitch sometimes.

After the call, Sophie looked at me for an update and I told her what Ellie had told me. My wife frowned. "What?" I asked.

"Your ex is moving in with your sister and your sister doesn't like me," she said, as if that explained everything. I must have looked confused. "If you and Katie reconciled, she might stay here and Ellie will have her BFF back."

"But I'm married now," I pointed out.

"Just remember that then," she told me, before going back to her mag.

It was a week later that Ellie rang again, one lunchtime. "Could you come over on your way home from work and help me fix up a bed? Katie's arriving this afternoon and I'm not really prepared."

I reluctantly agreed, and rang Sophie to tell her why I might be late home. "I see," she replied and hung up.

Katie arrived as I was leaving my sister's place and Ellie insisted that I stay for coffee and catch up with my ex, rather than dash off home. It was after eight when I got in and my meal, a chicken curry, was at my place on the dining table; cold and congealed.

"It was hot when I plated up at seven," Sophie informed me as she poured herself a glass of wine. "But, not having any idea when you were intending to finally come home, I decided to eat alone before both meals were ruined." She took a sip. "Eat it cold, warm it up, throw it out; I only cooked it, why the fuck should I care?"

I put the plate into the microwave and followed her into our living room. "I'm sorry love, but Ellie insisted that..."

Sophie interrupted my explanation. "When we married, we agreed to change our priorities. We agreed that, in future, it would be us, then family, then work." She regarded me carefully. "I know Ellie keeps trying to convince you that I'm controlling, so I won't tell you what to do. But actions have consequences and we have an agreement. I've kept my part, so have you, so far. Let's not have any misunderstandings about your responsibilities towards Katie."

Before I could really think of a reply, the microwave dinged and I went off to salvage my meal. By the time I had eaten and washed up, Sophie had gone to bed, early, very early.

The mood over breakfast was civil but not warm. I apologised again and my wife reminded me of our agreement. I told her that I understood and we went our separate ways to work. Things had started to thaw by that Thursday, when Ellie rang to ask if I could pop over to help her set up a TV in Katie's room. I asked why Nev, my sister's current boyfriend, couldn't do it. Apparently he was working that evening.

I asked Sophie if she minded. Without turning away from the programme she was watching, she said, "You're a big boy now, David. A married man. All grown up. You decide."

"Well I'll just nip round and sort them out then. I'll probably be back before the programme finishes."

Sophie's only response sounded like, "Humnph."

It actually only took me an hour, but with the beer offered by way of thanks and the travelling time, Sophie had gone to bed, early again, by the time I got home.

There was barely any conversation at all the following morning and not much more for a few days after that. I will confess that I was a little hurt that my wife was being unreasonable about me helping my sister out. That's probably why I misjudged my response to Ellie's next call. Nev had four tickets to see a band that I was a big fan of, play at the local football stadium. Did I want to join them?

"Who's going?" I asked.

"Me, Nev, Katie and you, if you want the ticket," Ellie told me.

I asked Sophie if she minded me going to the gig the following Saturday evening. She just shrugged.

"I'd love to go," I told my sister. "Say thanks to Nev for me."

I tried to explain to my wife just how hard it was getting to see these guys play live, but she seemed more focussed on the text messages she was exchanging on her phone. I was reminding her just how good their latest album was when she got another notification. She smiled, stood, wished me goodnight and went to bed.

I followed her up an hour later to find her asleep, in pyjamas. She usually slept nude. She was obviously seriously pissed off. We barely spoke at all the rest of the week. It was odd. She wasn't angry as such; if I spoke she replied politely enough but without warmth. And the only conversation she initiated herself were along the lines of, "Pass the salt." or, "Have you put the bins out?"

Anyway, the week dragged past and Saturday came around. Nev was picking me up at about seven thirty and Katie was apparently keen to meet Sophie. The two still hadn't met. A little after seven that evening, Sophie came downstairs dressed in a short dress that showed off her long slender legs. It had a low top that showed off an alarming amount of her amazing bosom and she wore high heels that made her astonishing bum look even better. Her hair was beautifully styled and her makeup was immaculate.

"Sophie," I gasped. "You look stunning. Are you going out?"

Okay, I admit it. In a list of the most stupid questions I have ever asked, that had to be number one.

She looked at me incredulously, then recovered. "You are going out with your friends on a Saturday night. I've arranged to go out with mine." She offered nothing more and even I knew better than to ask.

She sorted through her bag, making sure that she had her keys and purse and stood, checking her phone. I heard one car pull up outside followed by another. Moments later my wife's phone chimed. She checked it. "That's my Uber," she said, walking to the door. I followed her and stood on the doorstep as she passed my sister, Nev and Katie on the path.

"Hi Nev," she greeted him as they stood to one side to let her pass. She ignored the two stunned women and climbed into her lift, giving Nev an excellent view of her silky thighs and stocking tops as she did so.

"Fuuuck," I heard Nev breathe before Ellie caught up with him.

"Was that Sophie? She's gorgeous," commented Katie.

"Ignorant bitch," my sister griped. "Where's she going anyway? Saturday night dressed like a hooker?"

"She's going out with her friends rather than sit in on her own." I explained. In hindsight it did sound pathetic.

The gig was great and I was bright enough to have Nev drop me off on the way home, despite Ellie insisting I should go back to theirs for a quick drink. I was in by eleven thirty and in bed, alone, just after midnight. I heard Sophie come in about one thirty. Unusually, she showered before she came to bed.

The next two weeks were awkward. Sophie seemed remote; emotionless. She would interact but not initiate. If I asked a question she would reply politely but nothing more.

"Busy day at work?" from me.

"Not really," from her.

She never once asked about the concert. I did ask about her night out. That resulted in the longest sentence she spoke that week. "Kelly and Vince were going out for her birthday. Her brother's staying with them on leave from the RAF so I made up the foursome. Just like you."

I know, that was three sentences; but my point stands. We ate together and slept in the same bed as before but she seemed to have disengaged. I saw Ellie and Katie a couple of times after work when Ellie asked if I could pick up stuff to take to our parents. Sophie took no notice.

The final tipping point was when Ellie invited me to a friend's wedding. Some of the bride's family members had apparently dropped out due to illness and there was room for more friends to attend at the last minute. I knew the girl quite well; she'd been part of the circle that included Ellie and Katie at University. I asked if Sophie could come as my plus one. Ellie agreed, though reluctantly. I told Sophie about the invitation, stressing that she was invited too.