Robin Michelle Writes

{4 May 2011}   Skating Around the Issue

Here’s my offering for Ruby’s #WankWednesday prompt of #skate. Head over to her blog, The Erotic Notebook, to read more.


We’d been skating around the issue for weeks, maybe months, but most definitely in the weeks since we’d sold the house. It was more in what we didn’t directly say, than in anything spelled out. Would we have one last fuck? One last time to seal the ending of our marriage and life together.

In no way would you describe our divorce as amicable, certainly not at the beginning. I’d truly surprised him when I filed and gave him the papers. Our marriage had not been the best, we’d both had our issues with each other, the things we wanted in our lives didn’t always mesh. But we held it together, at least until the kids were grown. As husband and wife we really didn’t belong together, however we made pretty good friends. And the sex, the fucking was almost always good (we never ‘made love’, it was always sex or fucking). So based on the friendliness and good fucking, he thought we’d go on together. I knew better. Needed better.

I filed; we fought; we cried; kids cried; he moved out; we started separating belongings, fighting even more over who got what. Things calmed and we worked together to prepare the house for selling. It was more than either of us wanted or needed, with only one child still at home. He found a place nearby, I made the decision to move to the coast, making a new start for myself away from our shared history.

And here I was, our divorce final and the house sold. I had suggested we meet one last time at the house for one final walk through, to make sure we really truly had gotten every last thing out. My expectations were that we’d do more than just walk around in the house — I suspected his expectations were similar. I’d brought a blanket and put several condoms in my purse; we’d been separated for over a year and was under no illusions that he’d been celibate.

Arriving before him, I wandered from room to room, remembering. Regretting that I’d never convinced him to be more adventurous — we’d never fucked anywhere but in our room and bathroom. I thought of how fun it would have been if he’d bent me over the living room couch, or the ottoman in the family room. Or laid me out on the dining room or kitchen tables. Countertops. Washer and dryer. Stairs and the landing. So many missed opportunities — because of him and his surprising prudishness.

I sat on the stairs facing the front door and waited for  him. My thoughts drifted, my imagination fired…

He came strolling up the walk, pausing for a moment when he saw me sitting there. Coming inside, he closed the door. We made small talk as we started in the basement, checking all the closets and cupboards, everywhere something might have been stashed. But we’d been thorough and found nothing. Pausing at the base of the stairs, things got awkward for a moment. We laughed. We went to hug good-bye and found ourselves frantic to get out of our clothes. We paused long enough for me to lay down the blanket and to toss a condom at him. He looked a little surprised at that, but put it on. We were rabid — clutching, grasping, groping, kissing, biting, licking. He twisted my nipples and bit my shoulders. I grasped his cock and squeezed and stroked. A hand moved behind me, squeezing my butt before spanking it. I gasped, and pulled harder on his cock in reaction. Keeping the one hand on my ass, he moved his other around to my mound, and slid it down between my thighs, pushing them farther apart.  A finger slid over my clit and into my cunt, spreading my wetness over my labia then up to coat my clit. He surprised me then by pushing me down on to the stairs and bending down between my knees. He rarely ever went down on me this way — he usually positioned himself so that I could pleasure him at the same time. But not this time. He quickly inserted two fingers, fucking me with them while applying tongue and teeth to my clit and lips. It didn’t take long for me to come hard, squirting all over his hand and down his arm. Withdrawing his fingers, he flipped me over, pushing fully into me with one hard thrust. My nipples brushed carpet as his hands gripped my hips tightly and he pounded me without pause. Very quickly I heard the change in him breathing that indicated he was about to come. It pushed me over the edge again, and I screamed my orgasm into the stairs as he came…

My phone rang, jolting me out of my reverie. It was him. He wasn’t going to make it. I picked up the blanket and my purse, and walked out the door without a single backwards glance.


et cetera