Jared started filling my glass with more wine.

“Forget it. Just hand me the bottle,” I said, extending my hand.

He smirked and poured himself a glass before sliding the merlot across the table. “Bad day?” he joked sarcastically.

I pulled the cork off the bottle and threw it at him. “You know it was, dick,” I replied, taking two big swigs, a little trickling down my chin. I wiped it away with my sleeve. For six months, every Friday night, this was our routine. Jared would come over to my dilapidated apartment and talk about life, work, friends, and, most often, our cheating ex-spouses. Sometimes we would drink, sometimes not. Tonight, we were drinking a lot.

“I guess you’re not taking the announcement well?” he said.

“And you are?”

Jared shrugged. “The divorce is nearly finalized. Despite the months-long affair, she’s actually been amenable in getting this done quickly.”

I rolled my eyes. “How gracious of her.”

He grinned, raising his glass. “Cheers to our ex-spouses. I lost a wife, but gained a best friend.”

My cheeks flushed more than the wine was already making them. “To the only positive thing in my life over the last few months,” I whispered, clinking the bottle to the glass before drinking the last pour.

“Whoops, we’re out. Ready to switch to beer?” 

Jared nodded. With only a little difficulty, wobbling off my chair, I opened the fridge and took out a six pack.

“But seriously, Claire. Are you alright?”

I cracked open a can and tossed Jared another. He surprisingly caught it considering how tipsy we were. I swayed over to him.

“Not really, but I will be. I may have a hangover tomorrow, but I feel good about things, relatively speaking.”

One year ago, Jared and his wife Monica moved into the same apartment building that Mark and I had lived in for years. In fact, they settled on the same floor. After meeting in the elevator and inviting them out for drinks, we became fast friends. There were weekly board game nights, frequent dinners, and even a poker night that quickly devolved into drunk strip poker.

And then, six months after they moved in, things changed. Mark became secretive and defensive. If I asked to use his phone, he would angrily object. I caught him texting in the middle of the night multiple times, but when I asked who it was, he claimed I didn’t trust him. He went out more and came back later and later, always vague about his whereabouts.

Finally, it came together. I checked his location when he claimed he was going to the gym. The idiot was never good with technology and forgot he gave me access. To my surprise, he was in our building. Something in me said to text Monica.

Hey. Just checking in. Mind if I come over to hang out?

No reply. With a rapidly increasing heartbeat, I texted Jared.

Are you home right now? Two minutes passed before my phone buzzed.

No, I’m on a business trip. Monica should be home though as far as I know. Why? 

I grabbed the spare key they gave us for emergencies and practically ran to their apartment, hoping beyond hope that I was wrong. I arrived at the door and, taking a breath, put my ear against the wood, faintly, but distinctly, hearing what sounded like moaning. 

My heart stopped. With shaking hands, I quietly and slowly slid the key into the lock and turned. The door soundlessly opened and I was met with Monica getting railed over an arm of the couch by Mark, facing away from the apartment entrance. 

For a few seconds, I watched as my husband repeatedly entered another woman, saying things to her that he never even said to me, her breasts flailing, blonde hair draped across her face, and his sweat dripping on her back. 

As the image burned itself into my brain, I slowly closed the door and walked back to my apartment, numb. I called Jared and gently explained everything I saw. He was, shall we say, less stoic than me after hearing the events, but I managed to calm him down. Within a week, both Jared and I were moved out, each in new apartments. I never learned exactly what he said to Monica during that week, but it was also none of my business.

And now, after six months of healing, finally feeling like my emotions were getting somewhat back on track, I opened Instagram this morning. Even though I knew it was a bad idea, and having blocked Mark months prior, I couldn’t help myself. I unblocked him and checked his profile.

Posted a week ago, the latest entry was Mark and Monica on a beach, kissing, the sunset behind them. The caption? “Officially official. July 30th 🤍”

I nearly dropped my phone. Anger, resentment, and sadness clouded my mind. It was one thing to screw someone else, but another thing entirely to date her. It wasn’t just a lustful affair; he had truly given me up for another woman. 

My first thought was Jared. Opening my phone, I sent a less than cordial text.

Want to get fucked up tonight?

My thoughts snapped back to reality when Jared grabbed my hand. 

“We’ll have a hangover together. We might hate ourselves in the morning, but at least we can feel terrible with each other,” he laughed.

Our fingers intertwined. “So, you’re staying the night?” I joked back.

Still seated, he looked up at me. Silence filled the room. At that moment, I noticed how close to him I was. His legs brushed against mine and my chest was only a few inches from his mouth. He could easily reach out with his tongue and…

I glanced at our hands. Maybe it was the alcohol, but his touch felt hot. I slowly slid my hand up his arm, feeling his skin. My fingertips were vibrating as I traced the inside of his elbow, eventually placing my hand on his chest. I could feel the tight muscles move as he breathed, my own breath starting to sync with him. I slowly looked into his eyes, and something passed between us. It felt like a choice had opened and if we didn’t take advantage, it may go away forever.

The silence continued to linger. To my right, a warm breeze came in through the open window of the living room. The linoleum kitchen floor was cold against my bare feet, but I barely felt it as an intense yearning developed in between my legs.

Oh my god. Am I fucking turned on?

After the separation, I was told by all my friends to fuck away my feelings. Whether or not that was a good idea, a revenge screw at least sounded fun. I wanted to hurt Mark like he hurt me, find someone hotter, sexier, more well endowed. And yet, I soon discovered that my sexuality simply disappeared once I witnessed Monica bent over that couch, an important part of me held back by a dam that I couldn’t break. And I tried to break it. I watched porn, I bought sex toys, I even downloaded dating apps which, for a 32 year old woman who hadn’t slept with anyone else in 12 years, was a real challenge. Yet I felt nothing except anger and resentment.

Now standing in my kitchen with Jared, I felt cracks in that dam.

Jared moved his hands to my hips, the tips of his fingers barely sliding inside the waistband of my sweatpants. The dam cracks deepened and the water was now trickling through. I don’t just want Jared, I thought. I need him. Need to taste him and him to taste me.

I straddled one of his legs, putting pressure on my aching center, meeting him at eye level. Our lips were now millimeters apart, his hands greedily grasping my ass, unable to get enough. My nipples were piercing through my dark blue Abercrombie t-shirt, close enough to lightly brush his chest, sending a shiver through my body. 

The yearning between my legs was no longer a knocking at the door, but a battering ram, an insistent animalistic drive that clouded my mind and pushed out all other thoughts besides one; if I don’t have this man soon, I may die. 

It had to be Jared. In this moment, no other man in the world would satisfy me. Dark desire pulsed through me and all it took was one word to fully give in to it.

“Claire,” Jared whispered.

The dam burst. Lust flowed uninhibited and I no longer held back. Our lips collided, hands scrambling to touch every inch of each other’s bodies. Jared picked me up, my tongue now meeting his, unable to reach deep enough to fully satisfy. I felt myself landing on the kitchen table, Jared frantically grasping my long black hair, his tongue and lips exploring my neck.

A groan escaped me as his hardness grinded against my center, struggling to break through his denim. The rough texture pushed against the soft cotton of my sweatpants. Before long, wetness seeped through, evidence of my desire now fully on display, growing by the second as his body pressed into me, his large hands and tongue roaming. In gasping breaths, I reached for his waistband, only to suddenly hear Jared whispering in my ear.

“Do you want to know why I’m not upset about Monica anymore? Because of you, Claire.”

His hand scrambled under my shirt, finding my breasts, small enough to allow him a solid handful. I moaned before replying through short exhales, “What…do you…mean?” 

Jared moved away from my ear, his eyes now focusing on mine, his hand still under my shirt. 

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re all I think about. You’re the only thing on my mind. Do you know how many times I’ve jerked off thinking about you during the last few weeks? It’s honestly a little embarrassing. Monica hurts and probably will hurt for a while, but you’re the one I want.”

An explosion of warmth filled my chest and moved towards my core. This feeling was not unlike arousal, but also something else I couldn’t fully grasp, something more…intimate.

It was all I could do to keep looking him in the eyes, but I held on. I cupped his face with my hands.

“Then do something about it and take me.”

Jared smiled. Suddenly, his mouth was wrapped around my nipple, very lightly biting and sucking through my t-shirt, his left hand twisting and pulling the other side so both had attention. The mixture of intense pleasure and light pain was indescribably satisfying and I loudly whimpered from the shock sent through my chest.

For minutes, with my body still pushed back on the kitchen table, there was a frenzy of hands, lips, tongues, and teeth, neither of us wanting to break the trance and fully give in to the other. The teasing was simply too intoxicating, and it wasn’t just the wine we both drank.

Finally, Jared was the first to give in. He yanked down my sweatpants, exposing grey cotton panties that were now thoroughly soaked, evidence of my need for him.

“Cute,” he smiled, leaning down and beginning to kiss my thighs.

I was practically gasping for air. “I didn’t think…I’d be…doing this tonight,” I exhaled, and smiled back. “I would have worn something sexier for you.”

“You’ll soon be naked under me anyway,” he said.

The image sent new desire through me. Slowly, Jared pulled my underwear away, watching a string of arousal stay connected until it finally broke past my knees. Now fully exposed, my center was pulsing, almost asking to be touched or it would burst.

Please, please no more teasing. I can’t take it.

Seemingly sensing my frustration, Jared didn’t oblige. His mouth kissed and traced my thighs and outer edges only to entirely skip my clit. Over and over, for minutes on end, he licked, sucked, and kissed everywhere except the one place I wanted, pausing right above my most sensitive area only to lightly breath or trace with his lips.

It was the most frustrated and excited I’d ever been. I want it to stop. I never want it to stop. Keep teasing me. Stop teasing me. Make me come. Never give me release. These conflicting emotions boiled in me until my nerves were strained to their limit.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Oh my god, please! Please, just make me come. I’m literally begging you!”

My plea must have been enough. His mouth and tongue met my clit, rhythmically flicking side to side and sucking. A deep groan escaped me as my desire was finally satisfied, if only partially, my hands running through Jared’s buzzcut, pulling his head in closer. But after all that teasing, it wasn’t enough.

“Your fingers…please…fill me!” I barely breathed out.

Suddenly, I felt myself stretched as Jared slowly slid two fingers inside before thrusting in and out.

After the endless teasing, his fingers sent me over the edge. Within a few seconds, the pressure that had been building for seemingly days was finally allowed to explode. A tidal wave of lust, heat, and joy forced its way from my clit, spreading through my entire body. The orgasm ripped control away, my legs spasming and toes curling. Waves wouldn’t stop rolling in. When I thought one was over, a new ripple would snap my mind back to reality. I begged for both release and for it to never end. The intensity was overwhelming. My climax lasted no more than 15 seconds and yet it felt like hours as I was thrashed around in the sea of pleasure.

Finally, I was released, gasping for air. Jared was kissing my stomach, a coating of my arousal covering his mouth. When I regained my breath, I pulled him in and deeply kissed, my own wetness smothering my lips. As he gently lifted me off the table and started leading me to my bedroom, a thought crossed my mind.

“Before we continue, can you wait out here for a second?”

He kissed me again before nodding, and I closed the door. A few minutes later, I came out in my wedding dress.

It was a simple design. An A-line silhouette with sleek spaghetti straps and a soft V-neckline added a flattering cut that Mark enjoyed on our wedding day. In the back, satin buttons dressed the full length to the very bottom and a sexy side slit showed a little extra skin. No patterns or frills, it was a pure design. Too bad it no longer represented my relationship.

Jared frowned. “What are you doing?”

I grabbed his hands and pulled him into my bedroom. A queen mattress sat in a simple black bed frame. Besides two nightstands and a few photos and art adorning the walls, it was fairly bare bones. I never thought I’d actually bring a man in here for this, I thought. I’d always considered this apartment an unfortunate bridge between two chapters of my life, not a place for indescribable sex.

“Let’s make tonight a new start. I’m not saying we can both simply forget what happened or be fully okay, but I’m tired of resenting myself. I want to move on or at least start to,” I said before leaning in to kiss him. Our tongues met and slowly roamed together before I pulled away.

“I want you to fuck me in this dress. Tear it apart, spit on it, I don’t care. But Mark was the last and only person to have me in it, and now I want you to defile it,” I said. Saying those words out loud made new arousal flow in between my legs. I shifted in place as anxiety, anticipation, and exhilaration grew.

There was a long pause. At first, I didn’t think Jared would agree. That thought quickly disappeared when he pushed me back onto the bed. His lips pressed down on mine as I felt three fingers slide inside me. “Oh fuck,” I whined. I didn’t have time to fully process before his left hand firmly grasped the side of my neck. His right palm pressed into my clit as his fingers stretched my tightness.

I let out a choked groan, my legs quivering as he repeatedly thrusted into me, rhythmically undulating his hand back and forth between my clit and the roughness of my G-spot. 

“Is this what you wanted?” groaned Jared. “You want another man to take you in your wedding dress?”

A “fuck yes” barely managed to escape me before he released the side of my throat and three fingers found their way into my mouth. I sucked on them as my throat was gently yet firmly taken advantage of, saliva lightly trickling down my cheek. My head swam as both my holes were given attention, pleasure cascading across my body.

Before long, my mouth was freed. Clawing for air, I only had a few seconds to get my senses back. Jared pulled out from my entrance and, using both hands, grabbed the V of the dress and pulled hard, easily tearing it open, my breasts tumbling out. Without missing a beat, his mouth once again found its way to my nipples, now lightly biting and sucking back and forth, giving both equal attention as I felt his fingers inside me once again.

The domination was incredible. My wetness was an unmistakable sound spreading through the room as his fingers repeatedly plunged inside me.

“I love how wet you get for me,” Jared said.

With that statement, his fingers were no longer enough. I cupped his face and looked him directly in the eyes.

“I want you to fuck me like you hate me,” I replied.

Jared’s jaw clenched before slowly nodding. He stepped back, taking off his shirt. He was well-defined and fit, especially compared to most men in their late 30s. He was no bodybuilder, but I still couldn’t be more turned on looking at him. Unbuttoning his jeans, he slowly pulled them down, exposing his shaft. I gasped at his girth, which looked like it may tear me apart. 

“Your ex-husband is an absolute idiot for losing something so beautiful. Now I’m going to take what used to be his,” he whispered.

My breath was shaking. My pussy was begging to be filled, to be used by this man. I moved my fingers in between my legs and spread myself. “Yes, take me right here. Make me your bitch. Fuck me like Mark never could,” I whimpered.

Jared roughly pulled me towards him, my body gliding across the bed like I weighed almost nothing. He circled his cock around my entrance, teasing me into an even more agonized state before sliding inside. I practically screamed as I was stretched to my limit. Never had I felt so filled. I was only given a few seconds to adjust when, before I knew what was happening, I was being fucked senseless. 

His hands gripped my hips as my legs rested on his shoulders. I was penetrated hard and fast, over and over. Each entry sent bursts of pleasure and heat careening through my legs. My head swam with lust, as each stroke sent me deeper into a feral state where the only thing on my mind was this man’s cock.

“Oh my god, yes, take me!” I yelled. “This pussy is yours, however you want.”

I looked down at a white coating of my arousal on his shaft. The sight was incredible, but before I could admire longer, Jared flipped me over, my covered ass now facing him, my wetness running down my legs. His hands found their way into a seam on the dress, tearing open the lower back so my lower body was fully exposed.

A sharp, confident spank rippled through my body.

“That’s much better,” growled Jared. 

I turned my head. “Is that all you got?”, I coaxed. I heard a laugh before two more handprints appeared on my ass, more harsh this time, that forced a moan out of me.

His hands grabbed my hips and pulled me back onto his length. I was ruthlessly stretched and filled, the sound of wet slaps filling the room as he made me his. I felt his hands grab my breasts, pulling me to him, my back now arched, his breath in my ear. One hand lightly grasped my throat as the other found its way to my clit. 

Getting fucked by Jared had two sides. On one hand, you’re filled with warmth and comfort over and over. On the other hand, you’re getting pummeled and love the pain. 

The combination of Jared fucking and touching me was almost too much, yet it wasn’t enough. Waves of euphoria flowed over me. 

“Never stop fucking me,” I gasp. “This cock is mine now. No one else can have it.” In reaction to my words, I feel his shaft start to twitch.

He’s going to come soon, I thought. But I wasn’t ready. I still needed something to send me over the edge, to finally relieve this frustration. 

“Your pussy is going to make me come. You hear me? I’m going to come for you,” Jared breathlessly said, as his cock continued to spread me wide open, sweat now running down my back.

In response to his words, I lose all control. “Come inside this cunt! Make it yours,” I scream.

Jared’s pace increases, my ass and breasts bouncing wildly as I am fucked with even more intensity, the motion of his hand on my clit growing more sporadic yet rougher the closer he moves towards climax.

“Yes, don’t stop, I’m so close,” I beg.

After a few more strokes, Jared whines, “I’m coming, Claire. Oh god, I’m coming.”

"Do it! You own this pussy. Come inside me!”

Hot, thick strands of his orgasm fill me. The moment I feel Jared release himself, I mentally collapse. My hand covers my mouth to muffle a scream as my core erupts, heat and intense pleasure running through, starting and peaking on my clit and slowly spreading through what feels like every nerve. As more of Jared flows into me and each thick strand bursts through, my body shudders, small aftershocks rippling through me. With each stroke, my body shivers as I take every drop of Jared.

We collapse on top of each other, his length still inside. We’re a mess of torn clothes, sweat, and arousal. Our bodies embrace, slowly kissing, his lips sending warmth through with each movement. After a few seconds of catching our breath, Jared pulls himself off. I look at my dress, now destroyed, stained with Jared’s sweat and lust. I throw my head back on the bed, breathing hard, smiling.

“So,” Jared said. “I probably should have asked you this earlier, but do you want to go out sometime?”

I giggle before pretending to think. “You know, I’m not so sure. I did get out of a long-term relationship a few months ago.”

“What a coincidence, me too. We already have so much in common.”

I sit up on the bed. “You’re right. So yes, I think I will go out with you.”

Jared smiles and sits next to me. “Dinner tomorrow?”

“I can’t wait,” I said before kissing him deeply. 

After cleaning ourselves off and changing our clothes, I grab the wedding dress. Now torn and defiled, I let Jared know I’ll be right back. Putting on a coat, I bring the dress with me to the dumpster outside. Without hesitation, I toss it in. I head back into my apartment, where Jared is waiting for me. We fall asleep together, our hands intertwined, knowing we’ll soon wake up to a new tomorrow.