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Recycling, again.

I’ve been known to recycle in the past. What I mean by that is hook up with an ex (or a past hookup). Let’s face it – it’s easy. You already know how to touch each other, you know what the other person likes, plus sometimes there is that familiar feeling of comfort that feels cuddling up with your favorite hoodie.

Last weekend I recycled, again. I say again because this is not the first time I’ve recycled with this particular ex before. This time it was a bit more planned out and less random. See, Greg moved out to San Francisco a few years ago to work at some software company. He knew he was coming to town for work and shot me a few text messages asking if I would be around. Our texts turned very dirty quickly, and we made a plan to have some fun while he was in town. His company would only pay for the hotel starting on Sunday night, but he wanted to come to town a day early, which meant he was going to crash with me.

His plane landed on Saturday around 7:00pm, so we made arrangements to meet me at my place, then we were going to dinner and to see his friend’s band. He looked different than I remember. He seems to be better looking the older he gets. I forgot how green his eyes were, so bright, almost as green as grass. He had new tattoos. He looked like a version of the guy that used to be mine, but still felt comfortable.

We instantly re-connected. He said that my breasts looked larger and he wanted to see them. So, yeah, my top came off within about 3 minutes of us being at my place. We kissed a little, with my top off, but then we had to leave because we were meeting friends later.

All night, we were “cute.” We held hands, exchanged little kisses, his hand remained on my leg as we sat in the booth together. The more drinks we had, the more touchy we’d get. At this point we were at a club, watching a concert, so it wasn’t weird or out of place.

About 1:00am rolled around and I was ready to go to bed. We walked to my place and he immediately took off all of his clothes and went to bed. It took me a little longer (makeup removal, teeth, etc.). But I came into the room and he pulled me into bed, clothes on. Then he took my dress off, pulled it over my head, and immediately started kissing my belly.

Here is the weird part… I was feeling nothing. His kisses felt empty. Even when he moved up my body, took off my bra, kissed my chest, my neck, my lips… I felt nothing. It was so weird, this person who ten years ago I loved, truly loved, now I felt nothing for him.

I tried to get back into it. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe I was sleepy. I thought I’d push through. Greg was always a giver and he was showering my body with tiny kisses, and tongue flicks. He’d try to go lower, but I’d stop him. I don’t know why this was – but I really was just not into it.

I stopped us for a second, mostly when he tried to go further. I said I was tired and needed to just go to bed. He was OK with this, but then asked if it was OK if he got himself off. Normally this would be weird, but it was Greg, and we knew one another and we had lived together in college and somehow it wasn’t weird.

So, there he is, in my bed, getting himself off. But then he couldn’t manage it without me being involved. I actually remembered this from ten years ago, he had a hard time climaxing if he knew I hadn’t. He had to touch me, my breast, pinch my nipples and kiss on my neck. I was OK with that and there was something kind of sexy about him touching me, but getting himself off. About five minutes later he stopped, opened my nightstand drawer and pulled out my Rabbit. He commented that he knew I would have one and then he went on to talk about how kinky he knew I was back when we dated, and how I introduced him to a whole new world of sexual exploration.

So, at this point, I was a bit more turned on (probably all of the touching) and I decided why not have a random mutual masturbation session. So that’s what we did. There he was, propped up a bit, touching himself while controlling the Rabbit. I think at that point, I was cognizant of the fact that this was strange, but I didn’t care. I told Greg I was close and he put my left nipple in his mouth, and flicked his tongue across. About 20 seconds later, I climaxed, and hard. He followed by about 30 seconds. He is a shooter, and a shot flew past his shoulder to the wall behind us, which we both found hilarious. I put the AC on, and we fell asleep around 3:00am and then managed to somehow sleep until about 9:30am.

I didn’t see him again all week and I probably won’t see him again in this sense. Am I getting older? Have I hit that point where random sex is just meaningless? Or is it just because he’s recycled and I’m just done with him? We’ll see what happens in the future and find out if this is a new thing, or if this was just about him.


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