Break-Up Bitch

It had been over a year, and we had been in love...at least, it felt like love for a while there. Hell, who was I kidding? I had to admit that at this point in my relationship history, I had no idea what love should feel like. I sat with my head in my hands in her living room. She was in her bathroom, getting cleaned up after an hour of silent sobbing. An hour of tearful, accusing eyes looking up at me as I made every stupid breakup cliche sound even more hollow.

It wasn't her. It was me.

We'll stay friends.

Yeah, right.

It had been at least 30 minutes sitting there. I was starting to wonder if I should just leave, if I were dead to her, just haunting her living room. She came back through the door of the one bedroom without a word and stared daggers at me, as if judging her next move while trying to read my mind. Her makeup was simple red lipstick and pale base, a textbook "Addicted to Love video" look. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun. She looked like she'd found the cold veil you wear to push through emotional pain, and then paired it with a pressed white dress blouse and black pencil skirt. Good for her, I thought. If we both pretend this is right and unavoidable, a professional end to our affairs, it'll be easier. I did still love her, I guessed, but something was missing - some spark of fire I craved, still left to find. I stood to leave.

She caught my hand as I got to my coat.

"Sit back down. You said your piece, and I've collected my thoughts. I want my fair time."

Her lack of assertiveness had always secretly been a sore point with me. My cock twitched as she seated me on the floor. This might be interesting, I thought.

She sat down in front of me in a chair, crossing her legs demurely and grinding ever-so-subtly into the cushion. Her eyes stayed locked to mine.

"I know you care about me" she said. I started to say something in reply, but she cut me off.

"Shut the fuck up. I know you care about me, and I don't even think you know why you're dumping me. Some scared part of you avoids happiness like a plague or something. I'm sure it's tied to a childhood trauma, something a therapist should hear all about, but I don't care. We all have traumas like that, sweetie, and I'm not going to let you run out on what we have. Our traumas...they match so well. I want to enjoy us a while longer."

I found myself nodding slightly as she kept her gaze locked to me. She moved forward from the chair to where I was on the carpeted floor. I could see her dark eyes pushing my gaze to her exposed cleavage as she moved closer to me. I could hear every fiber of her fabrics make their susurrus as she curled herself around me. Sitting down into my lap with one arm around my neck, her finger traced my shirt buttons and finally rested on my hand. She moved my touch to her knee, then up to her hemline. I could feel the ridge of her thigh-highs, the tiny gap of skin before the skirt. She never smiled, her lips were tight as if she were ready to devour me. I didn't dare break eye contact. Her words pushed out of those red lips like heavy smoke, occluding my vision and clouding my thoughts.

"Oh, John, you're not breaking up with me at all. Not. At. All. What you're about to do...well, let's leave the 'saying it' for later. For now, let's know that I'm going to make staying with me worth your time. In fact, I think staying with me will be the fucking jackpot for you. I mean that literally." Now, a smile flashed.

She slid my trembling hand up her skirt and I felt something hard against her thigh. I couldn't let myself believe what I was feeling, and felt afraid to admit that I was intimately familiar with the form. It was a massive strap-on cock, tied flush against her leg with a ribbon. Her eyes bored into me and her mouth turned upwards into a grin. She licked her lips and leaned to my ear. Her warm breath slid words of my deepest, most embarrassing desires into me.

"Unwrap your present, Johnny, and get on your fucking knees. You are still my boyfriend, you will always be my boyfriend, and I demand your sexual subservience now. Now!"

I pulled the end of the ribbon as she stood up before me. My cock was rock hard, but I was in a complete daze as she stood before me. She was so powerful, her breasts pouring out of her half-buttoned dress shirt, her hands sliding her black skirt up her legs, widening the stretch of skin above her thigh highs until she reached the event horizon of clothing and fetish. She lifted her skirt and the cock sprang from her hips, her devilish grin giving me shivers. I stared, stupified by the horrifying and glorious she-cock that jutted from her like a scepter. Her graceful and delicate hand caressed the veiny fake flesh. She began to stroke it wantonly.

"Suck this cock, you little break-up bitch. Suck it all down your throat, like the whore I need you to be. If you're good, I'll go slow when I make your ass mine." I stared up into her eyes and leaned forward without a hint of argument, my eyes full of tears. It was like a communion, a christening of sexual power. She looked as if she had gathered up all the sex in a five-mile radius, like everything for blocks must be completely platonic while she sweated this honey of lust from every pore. Her fingernail parted my lips and I drank her meat down my throat. She put her hand behind my skull and began to slowly fuck my mouth.

"Aren't you glad we didn't break up, now? A month ago I found your search history, my little sissy baby. I found it all, you little pervert. And you know what? I loved it. I diddled my little clit watching all the same videos as you, baby. I knew you wanted this strap-on, I knew it was why you were distant, even if you didn't know it yourself. Sexual shame is powerful, baby."

I tried to nod, but her cock in my throat made it difficult.

"I'm going to give you what you secretly crave, and when I'm done if you still think you can leave me, go ahead. For right now, though, bend over. I am about to sink all 10 inches of this beautiful cock deep and slow into your sweet little cunny. You'll feel the warmth of my thighs touching against your skin and you'll know I've got my hard cockhead deep inside you. Deep in your boyparts, this cock will remind you that I fucking own your pussy. You live on your knees only to be my willing cockslave. Would you like that, baby? Would Johnny like to let his pussy milk my sweet cock?"

She really had been through my search history, I thought. That line was almost verbatim from a favorite online porn story I had read hundreds of times.

"Yes, please, Ma'am. I see now I was wrong to try and dump you, I was running away for fear that...that..."

She bent me over and slid two lubed fingers into my ass.

"Shut up with your sissy little fears, baby. I don't want to hear it. You need this cock, and a good hard fucking for now. That'll make it all okay."

"Yes, Ma'am......" was all I could moan as my formerly ex-girlfriend began to turn my asshole into her personal fucktoy. I only wish we'd broken up sooner.