Flew my ex out to fuck me [FM]

As a travel nurse, I'm all over the place—both mentally and physically. I bounce from town to town for weeks or months at a time, and lately, I haven't even had time to go on "dates," let alone find someone who can keep up with my ridiculously high sex drive. So when I'm away from home, I get extra horny. Extra desperate.

One night, I sent my ex a harmless text about returning each other's stuff. To the surprise of neither of us, it turned into a full-blown argument. After a short but heated back-and-forth, I sent him a different kind of message:

"I'd absolutely booty call you for an angry fuck right now if you were closer."

"Fly me out then," he replied—matching my energy.

That turned into a flirty little sexting session. I spent most of it teasing him, neither of us thinking it would actually go anywhere. But then… I looked up plane tickets. Turns out, I could get him here for cheap.

"You know the last couple times I've used my toy… I really thought about how much I miss you fucking my face. The way your balls slap me with every thrust. How I can feel you hit the back of my throat."

That grabbed his attention. Suddenly he was asking about the logistics—how soon, how long, where he'd stay. I confessed:

"I've never felt this toxic in my life. For the record, I feel totally out of control."

"I think we fuck better when things are as toxic as possible," he replied, not knowing I was already entering his info on the airline's website.

"Good, because I really want your cock in my ass," I texted, knowing full well his heart was probably racing 1,000 miles away. "I need you to make me squirt again while you're fucking me. Then I want to wrap these giant tits around your cock until you cum on my face."

He told me how badly he needed this, and needed me. I replied:

"Well… I just booked your flight."

Three nights later, I was meeting him at the airport wearing the smallest dress I owned. On the drive back, I teased the hell out of him: hand on his thigh, his fingers in my mouth, and at a stoplight, I slid my panties off and handed them to him.

The moment we got inside, he couldn't keep his hands off me. He pushed me against the wall, running his hands all over me. I tried to playfully push him away, but that only made him rougher—manhandling me like he owned me.

And then we had the most toxic, nasty, sweaty, forceful sex of my life.

He spit in my mouth. I squirted on his face. We fucked on the kitchen counter and knocked everything over. He ate my ass—I ate his. He slapped me hard enough to leave a mark, choked me with his belt, and we both came so many times we lost count.

The next day, we didn't leave bed except to eat or go to the bathroom. We could barely walk. We were sore, used, wrecked—and probably the most satisfied we'd ever been.