My Girlfriend's Ex

"See Sam," Ben says, trying to stifle a laugh. "I told you it was going to start pouring down."

I set my jaw in what I hope is a 'don't fuck with me' look. The effect is ruined by the water currently trickling into my eyes. And in all honesty, Ben's being a pretty nice guy given the circumstances. Despite being my girlfriend's ex-boyfriend and all.

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter, dripping rainwater all over the mat just inside his front door. Jesus. It's soaked through onto the floor already. There's a puddle of water and everything.

Lindsey, my girlfriend, used to date this guy. Ben. I didn't know that much about him, aside from the fact that he was apparently kind of a dick. When she asked me to help pick up some of her stuff from his place, I wanted to say no- but, y'know, we'd only been dating for a few weeks, and I wanted to play the part of the good boyfriend. Plus Lindsey is a legit 10/10.

Truth be told, I've been dreading this for days. Turns out Lindsey didn't just leave a 'few things'. She left just loads of shit. Boxes, a home office set, a whole flatscreen TV. I'm surprised he even kept it here, considering they stopped dating almost half a year ago. No way I was going to be able to fit that amount of stuff in my car. So I rented a moving van, headed over, and came out ready to out-macho her ex. Guy stuff.

As it turns out, Ben is actually a much nicer guy than I thought he'd be. Tall, wavy brown hair, obviously in shape but not crazy ripped. He'd been pretty polite to me since we met, trying not to make it awkward at all. As soon as I stepped in the front door, he asked if I wanted anything to drink, or smoke. The guy was dressed like he was going to help move too- basic shirt, basketball shorts. I'd blown him off, eager to get the job done as soon as possible. Especially with the rainclouds coming in.

"No arguments here, man," he'd said, running a hand casually through his hair. "Did you see the forecast? It's about to start seriously storming."

"All the more reason to get this done quickly," I grunted gruffly, trying to act as masculine as possible. Ben's not that much bigger than me, but I figured it'd be better to be stern and manly around my girlfriend's ex.

"Right, yeah," he shrugged casually, shoulders straining against his olive-green shirt. He flashed me a winning grin. "Let's get moving."

*

An hour later, we were barely halfway done with the loading. Like an idiot, I'd forgotten to get one of the dollies from the rental place, so we had to carry everything by hand. Sounds easier than it actually was. It's not a problem of weight- just meant we had to take way, way more trips than expected. The icing on the cake was that his apartment complex made me park pretty far from his front door, so instead of just throwing shit in the van we had to haul it down a flight of stairs and across a narrow parking lot. We took care of the big stuff first, but just after we were halfway down Ben pointed up at the sky. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead, and he stroked his beard with his other hand.

"Hey Sam, I don't think we're going to finish before that shit rolls in."

I turned and looked, even though I didn't really have to. The sky looked bruised, like it was about to absolutely start pouring down. You could smell it in the air.

"I'll do one more round," I said brusquely, half believing in myself and half still wanting to flex on this guy.

"Suit yourself, bro," he shrugged easily, then started walking back to his apartment. "But I'm staying inside for the next one."

I wanted to act like a macho dick, but he kind of had a point. Plus, it was nice enough for him to help me in the first place. What was I going to do, press-gang this guy into helping me? I tried to put myself in his shoes, and wondered if I'd be as chill as he was being if the tables were turned. When we got back I hustled up to the heaviest box I could carry and basically ran out the door, praying for the storm to hold off for another hour.

It started raining the second I stepped outside.

And now I'm back inside, and I'm soaked. Down to the bone. Now that I'm not running anymore, the cold from the rainwater has really started to set in. Even my boxers are dripping. It takes me a second to realize that my phone is in my pocket- my phone, with the fucking cracked screen.

"God DAMN IT," I swear, pulling it out and realizing that it's totally dead. "FUCK!"

"Whoa, whoa," Ben says, holding up his hands. "Easy killer. That blows. Why don't you take a shower, warm up. Storm's going to last a while."

I grunt, pissed off, kind of wishing that he was more of an asshole so I had an excuse to say something mean. He's just so painfully... nice. I'm about to head to his bathroom when I realize my dilemma.

"Hey uh... hey Ben. Do you have any clothes I could... borrow...?"

He looks surprised, then laughs good-naturedly.

"Yeah, sorry bro. That's going a bit too far. But I mean... look. Most of what's left is Lindsey's clothes. Why don't you grab something unisex and just throw it on until we finish up?"

I want to protest, but the man has a point. I'm not going to shower and change back into my still-wet clothes. "Plus," he continues, his eyes tracing over my shivering body. "You're about the same size. Shouldn't be too hard."

Wow. First dickish thing he's said all day. I mean he's not completely wrong, but honestly at this point getting out of my soaking wet clothes is top priority, even if it does mean changing into my girlfriend's clothes. I shuffle over to one of the boxes in his crammed entrance hallway, dragging the now sopping wet floormat with me. I rip open the duct tape and peer inside.

Well I'm definitely not wearing that shit. One thing I've come to accept in our brief relationship is Lindsey's borderline obsession with costumes. Halloween, themed parties, doesn't matter. She has one of everything, you name it. Playboy bunny? Easy. Schoolgirl? Two sets, one red skirt and one green skirt. And this? Well, looked like some kind of... sexy... fairy? Either way, I wasn't too happy with the prospect of wearing a tiny tutu and tights around her ex. Honestly, I didn't even bother digging through the box- I wasn't exactly planning on dressing like a sorority slut on Halloween. Plus I was getting rainwater all over everything.

Box number two: smaller, but not much more helpful. I rolled my eyes as soon as I got the tape off. Literally just silver makeup cases and bottle upon bottle of nail polish. Jesus Christ. How much of this shit did she leave here?

By the time I got to box number three, shivering from the cold, I just fished for the first thing that didn't look too girly or tight. White sweatpants with PINK emblazoned across the ass? Not my speed. An actual honest-to-god corset? Yeesh. Finally, I saw it. A light blue sweatshirt, sitting on a pair of leggings. Screw it, anything was better than wearing my freezing wet clothes right now. I debated looking for underwear, but I'd be damned if I was going to wear a pair of panties. Plus it's not like I could ask Ben for a pair of his boxers. Between his awkward staring and my now chattering teeth, I had all I needed.

"Second door down the hallway," he said, eyes fixed on me.

"Right, right," I mumbled, hurrying to the bathroom.

*

Well this just went from bad to worse.

At least the shower was great. Perfect water pressure. I threw my soaking clothes back into the tub, after I'd finished showering off. Figured I didn't want to make the puddle I'd left on his tiles any bigger. That said, when I toweled off and went to wear my new clothes, I realized my mistake.

It wasn't just a sweatshirt. For one, it fit way tighter than any of my hoodies. For two, it was pretty substantially cropped, and even after pulling it down as far as possible it still showed off everything below my ribcage. The leggings weren't much better. I knew they'd be tight, but these things clung to my legs like a second skin. I turned around and saw the curve of my ass in a way that I'd never seen before. When I turned to look at myself straight-on, I could see an obvious bulge under the clingy black material. No underwear either... fuck.

Well I had two choices. The first was to ask Ben for a change of clothes. But that just felt humiliating. The second was to swallow my pride and not mention it.

Ben's eyes opened wide when I tried to walk casually into his living room.

"Damn, bro. You look- I mean, wow. Did not expect that outfit choice."

I tried to look serious, but it's like my scowl just bounced off him. He sat casually on the couch, legs splayed open, TV paused.

"Hey, no worries man. Damn, that shit looks as good on you as it did on Lindsey! You work out a lot or something? Here," he holds up a beer at me, before I can interject. "I got you one of these. Figured you'd want something to take off the edge."

I blinked a few times, still trying to get used to the tight, silky feeling of the leggings as I moved.

"I dunno Ben... I'm going to be driving later."

"My man," he said, pointing out the window. Rain hammered against the panes, like it was being sprayed by a hose. "I'm going to be real with you. That shit is going to last for up to four more hours, according to Google. No way are we finishing this tonight. Just take a beer, take a seat, and relax. Oh, and pray we don't lose power. We'll finish loading everything up tomorrow morning."

I definitely didn't prefer that option, but what choice did I have? With a sigh, I slipped down on his couch, in front of the beer he'd offered. He scooted over, cracking open his own.

"Atta boy. Just relax, man. I know it's weird between us. Boyfriend, ex-boyfriend. But honestly, you're a pretty chill dude."

"Uh... thanks man. You're pretty chill too."

We cheered beers, and honestly it felt great to just sit on his couch after moving for an hour. Even if this guy was my girlfriend's ex, he seemed cool enough. I could see why she might be attracted to him. There was something so honestly cheerful about his smile, about his eyes.

"I mean there's one other thing, Sam," he said, after downing about half of his beer. "If we're stuck here all night... you mind if I smoke up?"

With that, he pulled out a tiny glass pipe from under the table in front of him. I broke out into a wide grin.

"Only if you let me join in," I replied.

"Fuck yeah bro!" He exclaimed, fist bumping me.

*

"No way," he said, after throwing me yet another beer from his kitchen doorway. I barely caught it, trying to use both hands.

"Yes way," I insisted, just starting to seriously feel the weed and the alcohol.

"No fucking way, my man!"

He stepped forward, then squinted, like it was hard to keep balance. We'd been hitting the pipe and the beers pretty hard.

"I am telling you," I said, slurring slightly. "I can kick your ass."

"Yeah bro? Yeah bro? You want to fucking go?"

"Right now man! Boot it up!"

He ducked down in front of his huge TV, rummaging for something in the drawers. A few seconds later he threw me a controller, laughing.

"I haven't played this shit in years, man. But fine. Best of three?"

"You're on."

We'd spent the last hour or two just shooting the shit, watching Netflix. I was pretty relaxed by this point, even mostly forgetting how the cropped sweatshirt showed my slender abs, or how the black leggings looked like they were basically painted on to my legs. He had a pretty good collection of physical media, so in between running to grab beers, hitting the pipe, and watching random bullshit, I tried to scope out what the guy actually had. It's not often you see an actual Gamecube anymore in someone's house. It's also not often that you see an original copy of your favorite childhood fighting game, Soul Calibur. After catching him looking at me a few times I knew we'd have to find something new to do.

Challenging him to a video game duel? Obvious next step. What Ben didn't know is I was basically a Soul Calibur prodigy.

"Loser has to," I blurted out, fueled by alcohol and cannabis.

"Loser has to what?" He responded, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know, man. Whatever the winner says!"

"Deal," he grinned wolfishly. You'll wish you'd never said that though."

I leaned back, high as a kite, staring at the character select screen. Man. I was gonna kick his ass.

*

"C'mon, Samantha! Put your hips into it!"

I swayed awkwardly, trying to get into the music he was playing. Ben beat me, barely, but a bet's a bet.

"Ben... my name is Sam... and I'm not great at dancing..."

"Tell me about it!" he laughed, slapping his knees on the couch. "Sure, you can wear Lindsey's clothes. But you can't dance like her!"

As punishment for me losing, Ben made me stand in front of the TV and dance sexily for him. He threw on something with a heavy beat behind me, then grinned at me as I gracelessly moved for him. I felt... well, embarrassed. His eyes wandered all over my body as I tried to put on a show, tracing my fingers over Lindsey's cropped sweater, watching him as he leered wolfishly at me. The speakers just kept pulsing this deep, hard beat. I'm just doing this for a bet. It'll be over soon.

"How long does this song last?" I slurred, trying to imagine how girls moved when they were trying to be sexy.

"Not long enough," he said, huskily. "You look kinda hot, y'know."

I blushed, then fixed him with what I hoped was a sultry stare.

"Are you getting into this, Ben? You know I'm not gay."

He laughed. "Looks like you're the one who's getting into it," he said, gesturing at my crotch.

Fuuuuuuck. My dick was waking up, clearly outlined against the leggings. I felt mortified. First, I was wearing my girlfriend's clothes. Second, I had lost the duel that I challenged him to. Third, he'd made me dance like a stripper for him. Now he could see my dick on display?

Time stretched on. I realized that he was staring at me more and more, his gaze boring into me. I felt my hips move on their own accord, and I traced my hands down my chest, not really thinking, my fingertips brushing against my bare midriff before covering my legs.

"Songs over, Samantha," his voice brought me out of my daze. "Round two?"

"You bet your ass, Ben." I say, sitting down, trying not to concentrate on my slowly hardening cock, or realizing how close I was to him on the couch..

"This time, you're going to be the one dancing!" I said, reaching for the controller.

*

Ben wolf whistles as I totter back into the room, beer resting casually in one hand as he drinks me in.

"Damn, Samantha! Who knew you'd turn out so, so..."

Yeah, I lost. Again. And this time Ben went for broke, telling me to dress up in one of the sexy costumes that were still in Lindsey's moving boxes. As I make my way back to him, blushing bright red, I kick myself for grabbing this one. Slutty nurse. Classic. A tiny, almost belt-like white skirt. Red thigh-high stockings. A white top that's basically a bikini. White heels that look like a stripper should be wearing them. And, sitting on top of the platinum blonde wig I scrounged out of her moving box, a stupid little nurse's cap. I'm trying to keep the ridiculously short skirt covering as much of my legs as possible while balancing on these absurd high heels. I stumble back to the couch, taking tiny mincing steps. Between the booze, the weed, and these absurd shoes, it's harder than it sounds.

I half fall, half sit on the couch beside Ben, one hand landing on his upper thigh. I push off immediately, embarrassed, trying to sweep the blonde wig out of my face.

"My man... this is too much. I thought this would just be funny. But- I have to hand it to you. You turned out pretty hot!"

The Gamecube is still turned on, so I grab my controller and glare at him. His stupid, cocky grin. His leering, teasing stare.

"Look, asshole," I say, half joking, half serious. "Next time, seriously, winner takes all. When I kick your ass, you're letting me borrow some of your clothes and you're the one who has to wear this... this..."

"Incredibly sexy outfit?" He says, smirking.

I bite my tongue and start the game as quickly as I can. Maybe I can catch him off guard if I restart things hard enough. He's still smirking at me, mouth slightly open, as I unpause the fight.

"Whoa! Hey" He cries out, barely able to place his beer on the side table. "Not cool man!"

I cackle, shifting on the sofa. Between my fall and the sudden movement, I'm almost halfway sitting on Ben already. But there's no time to shuffle- I start kicking his ass as quickly as possible, desperate to win a round.

"Yo that's unfair!"

Oh man. Totally worth it. He squirms next to me, scrambling to get in the fight. Between putting down his beer and the pipe, he's flustered, forced to play defensively. Half his health is gone in the few seconds it took for him to catch his balance. I might be insanely crossfaded, but I can definitely see when I've got the advantage. Just a few more combos and I can at least get one round done. Only a matter of time-

I let out an audible gasp as he wraps a hand tightly around my exposed waist and pulls me bodily onto his lap. In a moment of confusion I drop my controller, bucking wildly to try to get off of him.

"You want to play dirty, huh?" He grunts from somewhere right next to my ear. "I can do the same shit, Sam."

With that little distraction, I'm back to square one. The tides have totally reversed. I self-consciously squirm on his lap, the tiny strip of fabric of my sexy-nurse panties rubbing against his basketball shorts. I feel the electric, silky feel of the stockings rubbing against his bare, hairy legs. Our life bars are even- barely a third of both remain.

"Actually, I can do one better," he whispers.

In game, our fighters circle each other. But in real life, he starts grinding underneath me. I gasp again, realizing what he's trying to do as I feel his cock stir in his shorts.

"No... wait... Ben...!"

Stuck between being beaten in the game and being grinded against in real life, I put all my energy into focusing on the game. I'm drunk, sure, and I'm high as shit, but I'll be damned if I'm distracted by the sensation of his dick, slowly hardening, pressing against my panties. I'm not going to pay attention to the way that it feels, hot against me, barely separated from my body by his thin shorts and my basically nonexistent underwear.

"That's game, bitch!"

His mocking voice rings straight in my ear. On screen, my fighter is on the ground, knocked out. She rolls to her feet, ready for round two. I expect him to shove me off of him, to give me a chance to reset, but he does no such thing. He just plunges straight into the second round, not giving me a chance to get off of his firm, warm lap.

"Seems like you're having trouble concentrating," he whispers into my ear. I blush, redoubling my efforts. At this point I'm so high I'm basically just mashing buttons anyway. His voice sends an involuntary shiver down my spine, raising goosebumps on my neck. Why am I so distracted? I shudder, trying to focus on the game.

"If I didn't know any better," he continues, the mockery in his voice replaced by a smooth, teasing tone, "I'd say you were enjoying this."

"N-n-no," I stutter, focusing on the screen. I am definitely not at all focusing on the feeling of his cock shifting underneath me. I can feel my heart pounding in my throat. We're getting near the end of the fight, and once again I'm losing. He shifts underneath me, and I realize that his cock is now fully erect, positioned right under my asshole. I gasp as he pushes slightly up, probing, sending an electric shiver up my spine.

I'm straight. Why the fuck am I acting like this?

"Don't tell me," he continues confidently, "you've never tried anything like this before. You're kind of cute. Once you drop the tough guy act. And you dress up a little sluttier." His breath is hot on my neck. I'm trying to focus on the game but between his whispers and the slow, insistent grind of his cock against me, I can barely breathe.