Written by DominicH

12 Nov 2010

Until a couple of months ago I was seeing a wonderful girl. Her name is Jayne and she is 24 years old (I’m 36). She is five foot five with fairly long dark hair, size 12 with lovely shapely tits and large, dark brown nipples. We met in an office where we both worked about four years ago and I was fucking her in my car withing about three weeks of her starting at the firm. I left my then partner for her because I was smitten and loved the exciting ‘up for anything’ sex. People said it wouldn’t last and, in retrospect, I suppose they were proved right.

This summer, we split up. We had been arguing a lot, getting on each others’ nerves, and generally finding fault or irritation with everything the other did. I got close to a woman in my new workplace (and was having sex with her) and I suspected Jayne was seeing other blokes too, with unexplained text messages and evenings out.

About a week after we’d called it a day I was sat at home in front of the TV. I’d had a few glasses of wine and was happy to doze on the sofa; then I received a picture message: It was Jayne in a bar in town and she was sipping on a bottle of alcopop through a straw.

I was surprised to receive the message, but responded nevertheless with some light hearted ‘hope you’re having a good evening’ sort of message.

I went off to bed and my imagination was racing. About half an hour later I received another picture; this time she had her arm around some bloke and they were puckering up to kiss but not actually touching. I again replied but my tone was a little sarcastic and I didn’t hide my annoyance.

The third picture was of her kissing him very passionately, her lip gloss smudged all over her face and their tongues exploring each other. Jayne had taken the photo by holding her phone at arm’s length and it was clearly posed for my benefit.

Even though we were finished, I felt sick with jealousy. I wondered why she was doing this to me and I rang her phone. No answer. I must’ve rang him twenty times before giving up. She was enjoying the torment and I was stupid to react to it.

About an hour later, my phone received another message. I didn’t look for a while but curiosity got the better of me. I opened the message to find Jayne (or at least her body) lying on a bed, topless, but still with her lacy white knickers on. It was obvious what was coming next and I remember thinking that this lucky bastard is going to get the best shag of his life.

More photos followed: One with her knickers now removed and fingering herself, one with his fingers inside her, and one of her sucking on a very hard cock, albeit not particularly big.

I found myself beginning to wank under my duvet. My cock was very hard and I was slowly stroking it up and down whilst I kept looking at the sequence of photos, from the innocent drink in a bar to her sucking on another man’s dick.

Then another photo came through. Jayne was lying on a bed, legs pinned back, and the photographer’s hard cock at the entrance to her pussy. She was happy to have her face on this one and she was laughing. Almost immediately, another one arrived with his cock deep inside her and that unmistakeable look on her face that she’s enjoying a good fucking.

Then my phone rang. Quite why I answered I don’t know, but I lay there mesmerised by the sound of my young ex being fucked by whom I presume was a complete stranger. There was laughing, shouting, some abuse at me, and sounds that I’ve heard many times before when she’s got a hard cock up her and she’s on her way to cumming.

I did hang up, but then had one of the most furious and satisfying wanks of my whole life, spraying myself with cum from my engorged cock.

One more photo arrived: A picture of Jayne’s tits with a few splashes of spunk on them. I looked at the photos all night and had several wanks over my ex missus. It seemed to make the jealousy go away, and to see her with another man, something we often fantasised about in bed, had the effect I suppose I knew it would have.

Over the last few weeks I often refer to those photos and they never fail to make my cock very hard. I’ve shown some of them to my mates, suggesting its me fucking the whore, and they will be a tangible reminder of just how good and dirty she is in bed.

I haven’t seen or heard from her since, but I imagine that picture up strangers in city bars and going back to theirs to be fucked all night and covered in cum is now part of her weekend routine, and I at least can be thankful that I spent a few years with he slut, fucking her in every hole, in all sorts of places.

I knew all along she was a slut, and I wonder how many blokes she was fucking when she was with me.