Elise stepped into the wine bar, the kind of place where the air hummed with the low buzz of conversations and the occasional clink of glasses, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the old warehouse district where vintage lampposts flickered like mischievous fireflies. She'd chosen this spot deliberately—neutral ground, far from the polished bistros Adrian favored, with its exposed brick walls and mismatched stools that gave everything a casual, unassuming vibe. Her tight blue knitted dress clung to her like a second skin, starting from her shoulders and cascading to mid-shin, hugging every curve she'd sculpted over the years. It was the sort of outfit that turned heads without trying, the fabric stretching taut over her enhanced chest and toned legs.
Justin was already there, nursing a glass of cabernet at a small corner table, his grey pants slightly rumpled and his shirt unironed, the grey, blue, and red patterned tie knotted crookedly as if he'd convinced himself it screamed sophistication. He spotted her immediately, his face lighting up with a grin that was equal parts nostalgia and something hungrier. Twelve years had passed since their college days, back when they'd been tangled in each other's lives, sharing late-night laughs and stolen kisses that felt like the center of the universe. But life had pulled them apart—careers, moves, and for Elise, Adrian, the steady boyfriend who thought tonight was just another solo unwind after a long week.
"Elise," Justin said, standing a bit too quickly, his voice warm and overly familiar as he pulled her into a hug that lingered a beat longer than it should. She inhaled his scent—faint cologne mixed with the day's weariness—and felt a spark ignite, reminiscent of those old college sparks that had once set her skin alight.
"Justin, it's been forever," she replied, her smile genuine but laced with mischief, as she slid into the seat beside him rather than across. The table was tiny, intimate, forcing their thighs to brush under the wood. Neither pulled away.
They ordered a bottle of pinot noir, the deep red liquid swirling in their glasses like a shared secret. From the first sip, the friendliness escalated—his hand grazing her arm as he laughed at her story about a disastrous work meeting, her knee pressing against his as she leaned in to recount a memory from their past. "Remember that time we snuck into the campus library after hours?" she teased, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her glass, close enough that her elbow nudged his. The contact was constant, electric, a slow burn of proximity that neither acknowledged outright. Justin's eyes kept darting to her dress, the way it molded to her body, but he held back, content—or perhaps too stunned—to let the moment simmer.
As the wine loosened their tongues, conversation flowed from safe topics to the personal. Elise mentioned Adrian in passing, a casual aside about her life now, but her mind was elsewhere, on the man beside her, the one who'd once known her body better than anyone. She shifted, her thigh pressing firmer against his, and decided to nudge things forward. "You know, I've changed a bit since college," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. She arched her back slightly, the dress straining against her chest. "Got these implants a couple years back. Figured it was time to upgrade."
Justin's eyes widened, flicking down involuntarily before snapping back to her face. "Implants? I... yeah, I noticed. They look amazing, Elise. Really."
She bit her lip, a gesture that echoed those old flirtatious glances from their shared past, and leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear. "You think so? Be honest—do you like them?"
He swallowed, his hand now resting on the table mere inches from hers, their pinkies almost touching. "Fuck yes, I do. They suit you perfectly."
The air between them thickened, charged with unspoken intent. Elise's heart raced, a thrill coursing through her at the way his gaze lingered, hungry yet restrained. She glanced around the bar—dim enough in this corner, but not private. Her mind flashed to Adrian, oblivious at home, and the secrecy only fueled her. "Want to see them up close?" she whispered, her voice husky, testing the waters.
Justin's nod was immediate, almost eager, but he didn't move, waiting for her lead. Elise stood, smoothing her dress with deliberate slowness, and nodded toward the back of the bar. "Come on," she said, her hand brushing his as she led him past the other patrons, toward the disabled toilet at the end of the narrow hallway. The door clicked shut behind them, the lock snapping into place with a finality that made her pulse quicken.
The space was surprisingly spacious for a bathroom—wide sink, a sturdy toilet, and enough room to maneuver without feeling cramped. Elise turned to face him, her back against the door, and met his eyes. "You've been staring all night, Justin. Now you get the full view."
She started slow, teasing, her fingers hooking under the hem of her dress at her thighs. Inch by inch, she lifted the fabric, revealing the smooth expanse of her upper thighs, toned from endless yoga sessions. Justin's breath hitched, his eyes locked on her, excitement evident in the way his chest rose and fell. She watched him closely, savoring his reaction—the way his lips parted, the flush creeping up his neck. This was power, pure and intoxicating, especially knowing she was so far out of his league now, polished and desired, while he remained that rumpled ex from a simpler time.
Higher the dress went, exposing her flat stomach, the subtle curve of her hips, no underwear to interrupt the reveal. Elise's own arousal built as she saw the raw want in his eyes, her skin tingling under his gaze. She paused at her ribs, letting the fabric bunch there, then continued, peeling it up over her enhanced breasts—full, perky, the implants giving them a perfect, gravity-defying swell. Finally, she tugged it over her head, shaking out her hair as the dress pooled at her feet. Naked now, she stood before him, gorgeous and unashamed, her body a masterpiece of curves and confidence.
Justin's mouth went dry, his hands twitching at his sides. "Elise... you're incredible."
She smiled, stepping closer, the cool tile under her feet a stark contrast to the heat building between them. Grabbing his right hand, she guided it with purpose. First, she dragged his fingers across her upper thigh, the touch light but firm, tracing the muscle there. He followed her lead, mesmerized. Up and around, she moved his palm over her fit, hard butt cheek, squeezing gently to make him feel the firmness. Then, circling her belly button, a teasing dip that made her shiver. Finally, she grazed his hand over her breasts, the nipples hardening under the brief contact.
But she wasn't done. Elise cupped his hand wholly in her palm, pressing it to her upper chest, feeling her heartbeat thunder beneath. Up to her neck, where she tilted her head back, exposing the elegant line of her throat. Then, over her mouth—his fingers brushing her lips. Without breaking eye contact, she took one finger between her lips, sucking it slowly, her tongue swirling to lubricate it with her saliva. The act was intimate, filthy, and she watched his eyes darken with need.
Pulling his finger free, slick and shining, she trailed it down her body to one nipple, circling the peak until it stood erect, leaving a glistening path of her own spit. At the same time, her other hand ventured to his pants, deftly unzipping and slipping inside. Justin wasn't hard yet—undesirable as he was, with his unkempt edges and the years of solitude evident in his hesitant demeanor—but he was wet, a surprising slickness of precum coating her fingers. She gathered it greedily, then smeared it over her other breast, rubbing the warmth into her skin, mixing it with her saliva until both tits gleamed.
Elise brought her breast to her mouth, tongue darting out to lick the precum off, savoring the salty tang even as it underscored his unpolished reality. "Mmm, you taste like trouble," she murmured, her free hand slipping between her own thighs to tease her pussy, already slick with anticipation.
Justin groaned, but his cock remained soft, a challenge she relished. Dropping to her knees on the cool floor, she freed him fully—grey pants shoved down, his dick small and unassuming, crowned with an old man's loose, wrinkly foreskin that spoke of neglect. She pulled it back gently, the head emerging with a faint, musky scent, and the first taste hit her like a slap: a disgusting buildup of old skin and sweat, sour and off-putting. She recoiled for a second, eyes watering. "Fuck, Justin, that's disgusting. When's the last time you cleaned under there?"
He flushed, mumbling an apology, but the vulnerability only spurred her on. Knowing how desperately he wanted her— this goddess from his past, now so unattainable—gave her the willpower. While her fingers worked her clit, circling her wet folds, she steeled herself and took him into her mouth again. The flavor was vile, subpar, making her stomach churn with dry retches she fought back, but she persisted, sucking with deliberate rhythm, tongue probing to clean and arouse. Justin misinterpreted her gags as choking on his "flaccid incel cock," the thought twisting something dark and thrilling in him, his hips bucking slightly as blood finally rushed south.
It took effort—minutes of her bobbing head, the slurping sounds echoing in the small space—but he hardened under her ministrations, the wrinkly skin tautening as his dick swelled to a modest length. Elise pulled back, strings of saliva connecting her lips to him, and grinned wickedly. "There we go." She pressed her breasts together, enveloping his cock between them, the soft, enhanced flesh pillowing him perfectly. Leaning down, she sucked the tip as it peeked through, alternating licks and deep throat while tit-fucking him, her own pleasure building from the friction and the sheer dirtiness of it all.
Justin panted, hands fisting at his sides, utterly lost in the sensation. But Elise wasn't ready to yield control. She stood abruptly, pushing him back onto the toilet seat with surprising strength. "My turn," she said, straddling him, her pussy hovering over his erection. She sank down slowly, inch by inch, her walls clenching around him in a sensual ride that was all for her. No rushing, just a deliberate grind, her hips rolling as she chased her own release. She grabbed his face, shoving it into her breasts, smothering him in their fullness while she thrust, pinching her own nipples and moaning softly. "Fuck, yes," she gasped, the build-up coiling tight in her core.
Her orgasm hit like a wave, crashing through her without regard for him—body shuddering, pussy pulsing around his cock as she rode out the ecstasy, head thrown back, utterly selfish in her bliss. Justin throbbed inside her, but she didn't care; this was her reclaiming something wild from their past, a secret spark Adrian could never touch.
When the tremors faded, Elise stood, his dick slipping free, still hard and glistening with her juices. She knelt again, resuming the titty fuck with renewed vigor, her mouth working the head in tandem—sucking, licking, the pressure of her breasts milking him relentlessly. Justin's breaths came ragged, his hands finally daring to tangle in her hair. "Elise... oh god," he groaned, and then he came, ropes of cum erupting across her tits, hot and sticky, globbing in thick, vile-tasting spurts.
She stared at the mess, the scent musky and off, unlike anything she'd encountered—creamy but with an underlying bitterness that turned her stomach. Determined, though, to carry this piece of Justin home, to taint her kiss with Adrian, she leaned in. Licking up the globs was a struggle; the first swipe made her gag, vomit rising in her throat, but she swallowed it down, forcing more onto her tongue until her mouth was full of his decrepit semen, the flavor assaulting her senses like nothing else. "It's fucking revolting," she admitted between licks, eyes watering, but the power of it—having him in her like this—kept her going.
Finally, with her mouth brimming, she stood and pulled Justin up by his tie. "Kiss me," she commanded, pressing her lips to his, forcing some of the cum into his mouth with her tongue. He hesitated, then swallowed, the act bonding them in filth. "Good boy. If you take that, I'll make Adrian take the rest—unknowingly." She smirked, wiping her mouth. "He'll never know it's yours."
They cleaned up hastily—her slipping back into the dress, him tucking himself away—and parted with a lingering hug, promises of "catching up again" hanging in the air. Elise drove home, the taste lingering on her tongue, a secret thrill buzzing through her.
Adrian was waiting in the living room, scrolling on his phone, when she walked in. "Hey, babe, good unwind?" he asked, pulling her close for a kiss. She met him halfway, letting the faint remnants of Justin's cum transfer in the embrace, her heart pounding with wicked satisfaction. He didn't notice, of course.
Later, in bed, Adrian's hands roamed, but Elise pushed him back gently. "Not tonight. I... I just played with myself in the shower and came. But if you want, you can lick it off my breasts." She peeled down the top of her dress, exposing the skin still faintly sticky from earlier. Adrian's eyes lit up, oblivious, and he dove in, lapping at her tits with eager tongue, cleaning every trace of Justin's vile seed without a clue.
The sight—her boyfriend unknowingly devouring her ex's cum—sent a fresh wave of arousal through Elise. She excused herself, grabbing her big black dildo from the nightstand, and locked herself in the guest bathroom. Leaning against the sink, she plunged the toy into her pussy, thrusting hard while replaying the night's depravity: Justin's disgusting taste, his eager submission, the power she'd wielded. As she came again, harder this time, her mind raced ahead, planning the next encounter with that dirty old man. He'd be living for another opportunity now, hooked on her like a drug, and she'd make sure it was even filthier.
But as the aftershocks faded, Elise caught her reflection in the mirror—flushed, empowered, alive in a way Adrian's steady love never quite reached. This secret life with Justin wasn't just rebellion; it was rediscovery, a witty twist on the romance she'd thought was long buried. Who knew reconnecting with an ex could rewrite her story so deliciously? She smiled, already texting Justin under the guise of "great catching up," sealing the cycle with a promise of more. After all, in the game of hidden desires, she was the one holding all the cards—and she played to win.