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This story continues the adventures of Dave and Beth, and follows-on from “My Girlfriend’s Placement Year”.
This is the first of a two-part story,
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So now I know why my girlfriend ended it with me. It’s official. She’s seeing someone else.
I was 21, she was 22. We’d been together for two happy years at University until we’d had to move to separate towns to complete our placement years. The distance wasn’t prohibitive, 3-4 hours on a train, but seeing each other less and less took its toll.
As I had recently found out, Elizabeth had been cheating on me with one of her new work colleagues. They had kissed within a fortnight of meeting and progressed to fooling around and having regular sex within a month.
At the time, I knew none of this. She continued to sleep with him for a further month-and-a-half behind my back before ending it with me without revealing anything.
During that period we’d even been away on holiday together. I was oblivious to her cheating and continued to travel to see her every chance I got. All the time sensing that she was slowly slipping away from me but not realising the depth of trouble our relationship was in.
Prior to moving away, our once-ravenous sex life had dwindled to almost nothing. She just wasn’t into me anymore. She hadn’t initiated sex with me once in the last few months – it always had to be me. She could take-it-or-leave-it. And more often than not she chose to leave it. For a couple in our early twenties something was clearly wrong.
We hadn’t been totally sexless since she’d moved away, we did it a couple of times on holiday – by which time she would have been cheating on me for over a month.
During these encounters, she’d been lifeless and vacant throughout. She’d stopped bothering to shave or trim up whilst we were away.
By the time I’d managed to get her drunk enough to loosen up and let me strip her off – on our second-to-last night – she had stubbly legs and armpits, and the landing strip had become more of a thin bush.
She’d clearly not given the prospect of sex with me any real thought, or worse still she’d considered it but decided it wasn’t worth making the effort.
I had to pester her endlessly throughout the holiday. I took every chance to hug, kiss or otherwise initiate physical contact with her, up-to-and-including sneaky gropes here and there. In bed I snuggled close to her and tried all the moves she used to like to get her in the mood such as kissing her ear and neck, stroking her stomach and spooning. In the past she’d be playful, but now she either tried to ignore it or told me to stop.
I was convinced that if she opened up a little and stopped being so prudish we could re-make the connection we had, but she seemed unwilling to try. I decided to resort to alcohol by the end of the holiday and sure enough she started losing her inhibitions a bit, but she still wouldn’t tell me what was bothering her.
Having ensured she’d drunk significantly more than me, she let her guard down and we had sex. It would be more accurate to say I had sex, whereas Beth laid there and allowed to me have sex with her. The whole experience left me feeling like I’d guilt-tripped her into sex. Like I’d raped her. I knew deep-down that she didn’t really want to sleep with me, her reluctance was obvious.
She wasn’t returning my kisses with any vigour and she put close to zero effort into enjoying it herself.
Nevertheless, I got her drunk and took advantage of her the next night too, such was my addiction to her.
Again, she just let me get on with it. It was a chore for her.
This had confirmed in my mind the terrifying thought that something in our relationship was fundamentally broken.
Unsurprisingly, we didn’t last much longer and she broke up with me shortly after arriving back.
Although it crossed my mind she might have met someone else, she was so convincing when I asked her outright that I accepted her explanation of needing time to herself and wanting to concentrate on her placement. She lied to my face and insisted there was nobody else. She had said she still loved me but needed space. She was, as it turned out, a pretty good liar.
I later found out she’d been fucking loverboy for 6 weeks by then.
After the break-up we still met up ‘as friends’. This part of our relationship had remained strong throughout where the physical intimacy had evaporated.
I only travelled to see her every couple of weeks instead of every chance I got.
I was outwardly trying to look like I was relaxed and ok with the friends arrangement, but I wasn’t. I was making sure I stayed in her life front-and-centre, hoping for her to decide to give us another chance, still unaware there was anyone else involved.
We still had fun together and regained some of the good bits of our relationship now we had no pressure hanging over us.
I still slept next to her when manisa escort I visited – in her tiny single bed in the smallest bedroom of her shared house – but only because there was nowhere else. Aside from a little flirting when I visited, she made a lot of effort not to give me any encouragement by wearing a full set of pyjamas in bed and not getting changed in front of me anymore. She slept with her back to me.
A couple of times shortly before I found out the truth, I’d got her drunk again which led to sex. This gave me extra belief that my plan was working. Although Beth was – again – very drunk on both these occasions, she was clear-headed enough to insist I wear a condom – this was new. She’d struggled with her periods and had been on the pill since the age of 16 to help control them – we’d never once used protection before in our two years together.
I accepted this without question or argument. In that moment, Beth actively wanted to have sex with me, and there’s no way I was going to start asking awkward questions or rocking the boat.
The sex was good, but on each occasion she obviously regretted it the next morning and gave me ‘the talk’ about how it was a drunken one-off and didn’t mean we were back together. We were “just having fun and went a bit too far”.
Soon after this (around a month after our split), I’d found out she was seeing someone from work. During the interrogation I inflicted on Beth I felt a desperate need to reclaim her and we had ended up fooling around. To my total surprise, my initial anger had quickly dissipated and my questions drifted away from ‘who’ she’d cheated with and ‘why’ – and onto ‘when’, ‘where’ and ‘how’ she had done it.
Instead of being upset and hurt I found myself becoming really turned-on. It became like a game – as Beth revealed more and more of her deception and sexual history with this guy, the hotter we both got. She wouldn’t kiss me, but we ended up mutually masturbating each other – and then ourselves – as she slowly relayed the intricate details of the first time they had slept together.
Afterwards we looked at each other in a totally new light. I’d learned that my nerdy, posh, slightly overweight and body-unconfident soulmate had a heartless, wanton and slutty side to her which she had kept totally hidden the whole time we’d been together.
I’d also learned that the previously unthinkable thought of my girlfriend being unfaithful – and then hearing exactly how in great detail – got me hotter than any other fantasy I’d ever had. And now she knew it too.
It was now the first week of November – 3 months since Beth first cheated, 6 weeks since our breakup, and 2 weeks since I’d found out about ‘him’ and we’d had our little encounter.
In the two weeks since then we’d not discussed what had ended up happening between us that night.
I’d wanted to, but it’s the sort of thing you can only really do when you’re face to face with someone, to gauge their reactions, not over the phone. That night had made three things obvious to me.
Firstly, she had moved on. She had made clear to me that this work guy was effectively her new boyfriend – despite it not being ‘official’ at work. I was the only person who knew.
Secondly, despite being with him now, it seemed she still felt reasonably comfortable to fool around with me. I wondered why that was. Since she had broken up with me we’d had sex twice and shared that incredibly intimate experience a fortnight ago – although admittedly the sex was before I knew about her and him.
Thirdly, I wanted her more than ever and would do whatever it took to win her back. If that meant waiting in the wings and feeding off scraps whilst she screwed loverboy, then so be it.
During these two weeks, we’d chatted casually on the phone as we had done since the breakup. She’d been more open with me. When I’d asked what she was doing after work, she would be more honest. We’d developed an unspoken understanding that when she said she was ‘seeing some of the work people’, she was actually seeing him. She’d be light on the details, and I didn’t press her for any on the phone. Instead I secretly lived in hope that we’d have a repeat of last time where we could fool around in-person while she slowly told me everything.
When Beth told me she was ‘going out with people from work’ so wouldn’t be around to chat, all I could do was spend the evening vividly imagining what she was up to.
We agreed that I’d come up to visit this coming weekend since she was free. I fought back the urge to ask why she wasn’t seeing him. We decided that I’d come straight from work on the train and walk from the station to her place at the other end. I’d arrive as usual, just in time for a Friday night takeaway at about 9pm.
Of course, I hoped for a repeat performance. She had already slept with me twice since we’d broken up (although both whilst heavily under the influence and before I knew about loverboy). I didn’t want to seem too desperate escort manisa by pushing it, as this risked not only my pride but the possibility of her not wanting to see me at all.
She’d said that they were serious and that she considered herself “taken”. Our fooling around was just a bit of fun and didn’t mean anything. That strongly indicated that fooling around was the limit of any intimacy we might have, and she could grant or remove that prospect as she saw fit.
I thought about her every minute of the day. I loved her. I wanted her. I was pathetically grateful that there was even a glimmer of a chance of fooling around, so I’d happily live with that.
I needed to know more about loverboy. What did he look like? What did she see in him? She’d been intensely private about not telling me his name or anything about who he was.
As I counted down the days to Friday I decided to do some detective work and an idea sprang to mind.
Beth mentioned that loverboy gives her lifts to/from work, so it was a safe bet he’d be doing the same on Friday. If I could get to her place by 5.15pm, I might see him drop her off. I could then go and sit in a pub or something and pitch up at hers for 9pm without her knowing, pretending I’d just got off the train.
So I took Friday afternoon off work and left at midday. Foolproof.
Maybe not. The train was delayed by over an hour so I didn’t arrive at Reading station until 6.15pm. I’d probably missed my opportunity.
I decided to head straight to Beth’s anyway and surprise her by being early. At least we could eat at a sensible hour and I picked up a bottle of her favourite red wine on the way.
I arrived at hers at 6.30pm and knocked on the door. Beth answered tentatively in her dressing gown. Momentarily, she looked totally shocked to see me.
“Oh…. Hi!!!”. She said.
There was a noticeable change in her demeanour between the two words.
‘Oh’ was accompanied by a look of surprise, confusion and mild panic.
‘Hi’ was kind of squeaked in an over-the-top attempt to seem happy and cover the initial panic.
It was clear immediately that she wasn’t that pleased to see me, however she tried to cover it.
“What are you doing here… so early?” She stuttered.
“I managed to get out early, and what better use of my time than to come and see my favourite person.” I said with a sarcastic smirk.
I leaned in for a hug and a friendly peck on the cheek. Why was she in her dressing gown? Why did she seem panicked? Why were her cheeks and chest red and flushed? Oh my god, was he here…?
I had seconds to consider how to play this. Only the length of the hug (during which she seemed to hold me away by using her palm on my chest). She turned her cheek and allowed me to kiss it. She didn’t reciprocate.
“Great to see you” I said. “Have you even been to work or have you been lazing in bed all day?” I joked.
“Huh?… Oh, no, I was…err… just about to jump in the shower.”
To be fair, that sounded more likely than having her secret lover hiding in a wardrobe upstairs.
“Oh no don’t bother – you look hot like that” I quipped, as my mouth ran away with me again at the thought of Beth scantily-clad. “But you’ll have to excuse me first”.
Without waiting for permission, I slipped past her and up the stairs to the bathroom. What she didn’t know was that I’d already been to the toilet at the station so I was able to purposely slam the bathroom door so she would hear, and instead use the time to quickly poke my head into her bedroom.
Her clothes were strewn on the floor. Work skirt, boots, shirt and bra spread out all over the room. A pair of black tights bunched up on her duvet… which was haphazardly hanging off the bed at an angle. The sheets were crumpled and the pillows recently used. Her bed looked how the bed of a particularly messy sleeper would look first thing in the morning.
Except she wasn’t a messy sleeper.
Nor was it first thing in the morning.
And Beth never leaves the bed unmade.
I crept over to the bed. No signs of any underwear. Probably still wearing them. Fits with the shower excuse.
But the bed…? I suppose she could have been in a rush this morning.
I quickly returned to the bathroom, flushed the loo and went back downstairs to Beth.
“So what’s the plan?” I asked.
“The plan is… I have my shower while you drink this and order the pizza.” She handed me a beer with a cute smile and disappeared upstairs.
No sign of her housemates. They must either be out or have gone home, handy to have some privacy.
When she returned she was dressed casually, wearing a pair of fitted jeans that hugged her bum and thighs tightly, a T-shift and a zippy hoody. She looked nice but was clearly not going for the sexy look.
“Oh, that’s a shame.” I said.
“What’s that?”
“Your outfit.”
She looked a little hurt.
“What’s wrong with it? We’re not going anywhere are we?”
“Not manisa escort bayan unless you fancy it?” I asked.
“No, I’ve had a busy week and just want to relax. Don’t you like it?”
“It’s not that… it’s just… when you left you were only wearing a robe and now you’re fully clothed again.” I feigned upset.
She laughed.
“Easy tiger, you just happened to catch me at the wrong moment that’s all.”
“Seemed like the right moment to me.” I joked as I handed her a large glass of red. She seemed comfortable with the mild flirting and virtually necked her drink. I wasted no time in topping her up.
Over the next couple of hours as we ate and watched a romcom on DVD, I ascertained that her housemates would be gone until Sunday. Beth was putting away the alcohol well and was now almost done with her third large glass of wine.
Time for another snooping trip “to the toilet”. I made my way upstairs. Once again I had a nose around. The scene of devastation from earlier was gone and her bedroom was now miraculously neat. The bed was made and the clothes were away.
I was still suspicious so I went over to her laundry bin to inspect the clothes from earlier more closely.
After a quick scan, I was just about to return them to the laundry bin when I saw what looked like a black pair of knickers bunched up in a ball.
I wondered if these were the ones that were missing from earlier and concluded she must have been wearing them under her dressing gown when she answered the door to me.
Something instinctively just didn’t feel right.
I don’t know why, but I couldn’t resist the urge to pick them up. I’ve never had a thing for used underwear before, but I found myself reaching in for them.
They appeared to be black and plain. Similar to the ones she had worn two weeks ago when we’d fooled around.
Remembering that night made me instantly hot. I had been wrestling with my decisions that night. Had I been right to press on with the questioning when I could so easily have leaned forward and put my tongue inside Beth? I don’t think she’d have stopped me and I longed to eat her out again. It had been months since I’d tasted her sweet folds.
I suddenly found myself doing something I’d never though about doing ever before – I bought her knickers up to my nose and inhaled hard. Her scent was strong and sweet just as I remembered, yet also slightly different. I had to taste her.
I quickly unfolded the knickers and spread out the crotch in front of my face, fully intending to run my tongue slowly along the inside where her sweet, meaty pussy lips had spent the day.
Then I saw it. It all suddenly made sense.
Sitting in the gusset of my ex-girlfriend’s boring, everyday knickers was a huge pool of cum. It was still wet in the middle, and was dried and crusty around the edges with the unmistakable smell of sex emanating upwards to my nose. This was very fresh.
I held them, inches from my face as the cogs turned slowly in my mind. I stared at loverboy’s spunk. There was a lot of it.
I was shocked to find that this sight didn’t totally disgust me. I’d actually imagined something similar in the ever more complex fantasies that had evolved in my mind since she’d confessed-all to me a fortnight ago.
As I thought about it more, it was obvious that they had been fucking in this very room not long before I’d arrived – in the bed I would be sleeping in later that night.
I’d probably only missed him by a matter of minutes.
Beth must have put them back on underneath her dressing gown after the event to see him out, resulting in her leaking the creamy mess staring up at me now.
I became aware that my cock was suddenly rock hard and aching for my ex-girlfriend’s touch.
I returned the clothes to the laundry bin and went back downstairs with Beth none the wiser. I had to make sure she was well-oiled with alcohol and horny if I was going to get any action at all, and I still unquestionably wanted whatever action I could coax her into, despite my suspicions that she’d seen plenty of action this evening already.
“Top-up?” I asked as I sat down.
“Mmm yeah” she responded sleepily as she waved her glass in my direction.
As I poured, she complained.
“I’m really tired, I don’t think I’ll be able to see the end of this” she said, gesturing to the film.
“Oh come on, that’s really pathetic” I teased. “There’s not that long left, and you’ve got a full glass there now.”
“Fine, but I’m getting changed for bed now then. Pause it for me. If I’ve got to stay to see the end I may as well know what’s going on.” Beth was slurring slightly as she spoke.
With that she took a large gulp of wine and disappeared upstairs. I allowed my mind to run away with me. She was definitely a little drunk. Perhaps she would come back in something sexy? Something skimpy? Or maybe nothing at all? All very unlikely of course, but our last time together gave me a tiny glimmer of hope.
Beth re-entered the lounge 5 minutes later. If she was trying to confuse me, she’d struck just the right note. I expected the full set of pyjamas I’d become accustomed to when sleeping in her bed – long bottoms and a buttoned-up top. Instead, she was back in her cosy dressing gown again.
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