The Bedtime Tales of Be287m

Anniversary

She’d already checked in. The desk clerk handed me a key and an envelope. Inside was a Hallmark card with a handwritten note inside.

“Happy Fifth Anniversary! Love, Ann”

Underneath were lip prints and then more words.

“Now get up here so I can leave lipstick prints in more interesting places!”

I chuckled. I was glad I’d stopped to pick up champagne.

Ann stirred when I entered the room. She was lying on the bed, nude except for some gauzy barely there panties. One hand was slid under the elastic, her fingers making slow circles beneath. I glanced at the TV. An Andrew Blake porn film with the sound off. Typical for Ann.

“’Bout time,” Ann purred as I set my bag down and shed my coat.

“My flight was late,” I replied. “And I thought you like this,” I said, holding up the bottle of bubbly.

“Very nice,” she said. “That’ll be good later.”

“Don’t want any now?” I teased. Ann glared at me.

“You know what I want,” she growled. “Get your clothes off and get over here.” Ann emphasized her need by raising her hips and sliding her panties off. They ended up in a ball on the floor under my own hastily discarded clothes.

Like my last visit, the sex was incredible. In fact, it was like every time we’d been together. We only got to the champagne after three hours and countless orgasms, mostly Ann’s. She was disheveled but happily glowing. I was catching my breath and being very grateful I hadn’t cut back on my workout routine. My thighs were going to be sore tomorrow.

“You’re still the best,” Ann sighed as I filled her glass.

“Oh? Any new points of comparison?” I asked. Ann furrowed her brow.

“Since our last time?” she began. “Three. An investment banker, one of Jenny’s friends off and on for about a month, and a Chippendale’s dancer.”

“Oooh! A dancer sounds fun! Where’d you meet him?”

“Stacy’s bachelorette party,” Ann answered. “I enjoyed the naughtiness of sneaking off with him, but he didn’t have your stamina.” I just smiled at the compliment.

“And you?” Ann asked. I shrugged my shoulders.

“Not much,” I answered. “A one night stand at the trade show in November. And Sue, of course.”

“Ah. And how is Sue?” I shrugged my shoulders again.

“Okay. She says she understands, but I’m beginning to wonder if she really does.” Ann reached out and squeezed my hand.

“Most people don’t. My sister was appalled when I told her I was spending the weekend with you. She reminded me of every fight we’d ever had and everything I’d grown to hate about you.” Ann gave a mock sigh of exasperation.

“So what’d you tell her?” I asked.

“I told her you were the best fuck I’d ever had and that’s how I intended to spend the weekend.”

I cracked up laughing. It was too easy to imagine the shocked expression on my prim and proper former sister-in-law’s face.

“The sex always was the best part,” I acknowledged.

“Still is,” Ann mused.

“True, but now we don’t have all those other fights. No arguments over money or chores or whose family we’ll spend the holidays with.”

“No fights because you cancelled dinner plans to work late,” Ann added.

“Or because you insisted on playing country music at seven a.m,” I riposted. Ann laughed.

“In fact,” I said, “I don’t think we’ve had a fight in five years.”

“Mmm. I think you’re right.” Ann took a sip of champagne. She closed her eyes a moment, savoring the taste. Then she opened her eyes, met mine, and raised her glass.

“A toast,” she said. I raised my glass in response.

“To our divorce. Five years ago today.”

“And to the five great years since then,” I added. We clinked glasses and drank deeply. Then Ann set her glass aside and shot me a smoldering gaze.

“Ready for your ex-wife to fuck you again?” Ann asked.

“Absolutely,” I growled, setting my own glass down. Once again, we had a weekend to prove that I’d gotten screwed by our divorce in the best possible way.

--Fin--

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