Sex with an Ex

Let the sexcapades begin

By Vivienne Arkell

Aaron and I had split up almost a year ago today, and it was probably for the better. Our three year on-off relationship had played out like a cheesy Nickelback song. How do you stop when it’s feelin’ way too damn good?

At the beginning, I had figured it was a fling. He was 20+ years younger, lean and surfer hot with long, sun-kissed locks and a sexy guy-squad tat. But Aaron was super socially awkward with women. Reticence and shyness aside, when he loosened up with a touch of weed and wine, and released his libido, body and intensity, it made saying no pretty much impossible. I’m guessing it was the same mental ‘yes, yes, yes’ for him. After the breakups, I could feel the moon cycle every three to six months to when his text would arrive saying, “Vivi, you think we should get back together? We really shouldn’t pass up this…”

For his seeming gypsy spirit, Aaron had amazing old-school manners. He was communicative, and punctual. Shock. Most younger men and successful men in the city were so stuck on themselves – only into hook ups and maybes. So when Mr. Planning came along, I have to admit I was sort of smitten. He always texted on Tuesday to check and see how I was plus if the weekend was still free for us. We loved cooking together and checking out decadent restaurants. Usually the evening started early with rockin’ n’ rollin’ followed by grocery shopping, or some other sustenance. Fortified, we resumed our sexcapades at 11 pm or so and we were almost always asleep, totally satiated, soon after midnight.

But the chance of it becoming a classic relationship was pretty much zero. We had strong feelings, respect, trust, and never fought, but was it love? Plus Aaron wanted kids and I didn’t.

It was Monday night and Aaron’s email popped into my inbox just as I was tiring of my sommelier bf and searching for some inspiration.

“Hey Vivi, I’ve had a lot of things on my mind as of late and you are one of them. There’s part of me that’s missing all the wild hot sex we had. Should you be open to exploring our relationship again, I’d be glad to hear from you. Best, A”

F***, I needed to say yes. I so needed a great romp. I knew it was sort of wrong but it would feel so right. I waited until morning to decide if I was really clear headed and thinking straight. Of course I replied, “I accept your offer. Let the sexcapades begin”.

“Does Friday work for you?” His text came in seconds later like clockwork.

“Yes” was all I could muster, as I rushed to book a wax and scrub.

I had such apprehension about seeing that hottie at my door. Would I still get goosebumps all over?

He arrived at 8 pm on the dot. We hugged tightly and I could feel the firm bulge in his pants pressing against me. I poured some wine and we caught up, sharing stories about the exes of the last year and our work. His eyes ogled my cleavage and tush as I had purposefully worn shorts and a top that accentuated both the girls and my ass. Unfortunately, Aaron’s game hadn’t really changed much. He never just dove in and swept me off my feet like my other lovers. He always acted hesitant and timid, waiting for who knows what.

I really couldn’t see holding this anticipation off any longer. I took him by the hand to show him my cool new Herman Miller lamp in the bedroom.

Once he felt the green light, we fell into our pattern of stroking and licking all available body parts, taking each other back into ecstacy quickly and concisely, as only previously experienced lovers can. A sensualist’s body doesn’t forget when it smells, touches, hears and tastes familiar signals. The level of pleasure we shared had always been off the charts.

Though I didn’t truly understand it, Aaron’s addiction to what we did together was real. His intense, first release was fast and strong. The next was graceful and paced.

Sex with Aaron was more purposeful than playful but my little v was super happy. It was like a familiar meal and wine, yum. I usually longed for desert, but the chemicals and fluids in my mind and body were swarming around with conflict. I’d had awesome sex with Aaron many times, hundreds of times. The deep connection would never, never go away.

But did I lust for him as I used to? His gorgeous body and face were more perfect than ever, but the year-long break had made me doubt his power over my body and my power over him. My hunger for his happiness had left, and so did the passion. Were we finally over?

Could I do it without any emotion? Could he do it with some emotion?


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