She's Just My Ex-Wife

Hunter Men's restroom... "Ahhh, ah, ah, harder, ahhh, ah, ah" "Like that, ahhh, it feels so good, it feels so good, Hunter, does it feel good for you too, Hunter?" Gale, a sophomore I took for a private encounter in the restroom, turned to ask me breathlessly as I was thrusting into her from behind. I kept thrusting relentlessly until I finally reached my destination. After releasing my desires completely, I quickly withdrew from inside her, discarded the protection into the nearby trash can, and tucked my softening weapon back into my jeans, zipping up before responding to her earlier question about whether it felt good. "It felt good for me too... but not completely because you're not that tight." "Hunter..." "I'm sorry to be blunt, but it wasn't exciting enough for me. This will probably be a one-time thing. Good luck, I'll send the money later." I smiled at Gale before opening the restroom door and walking out as if nothing had happened, not caring how the other person inside felt about my words. For me, women I approach or who approach me are just outlets. If it's exciting and skillful, there's a chance to continue, but if it's not exciting like just now, it's a one-time thing. But I never take anyone for free; I always pay for their time. If someone is a bit more charming, they might get money, bags, shoes, clothes, whatever they want, because I'm a big spender, especially for young, beautiful women with great skills in bed. Whatever they want, I can give them anything. I walked out to the activity area where hundreds of freshmen were gathered because today was the freshman orientation for all departments. Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Hunter, 22 years old, a senior in the Business Administration faculty. Today, my close friend E.K asked me to help supervise the freshmen's activities, even though it's not my duty because I'm not good at talking; I'm better at doing things, you know, those kinds of things. "Hey!!! Where the hell have you been? I sent the juniors to find you, but they couldn't." "I went to the restroom," I said truthfully, not lying to him. "What kind of restroom visit takes almost an hour? Or did you go..." "Yeah," I knew he knew where I'd been. "Even on freshman orientation day, you don't hold back?" "What's it got to do with orientation? When I'm horny, I don't sit and think about what day it is. Even if it's a religious holiday, if I want it, I don't care." "I believe you, dude." "Why are you complaining so much? I've always been like this; you should be used to it by now, man." "Yeah, yeah, I know your nature, you're horny, but take it easy; you're a senior now." "You talk like you've never done it, E.K." "But I don't do it randomly like you." "What I do isn't called random; it's called being thorough. You know I have a lot of girls, so I have to share the love with them. But I always use protection, so don't worry." "Who would worry about someone like you? If I worry, it's about the women you leave behind without a second thought. In the four years we've been friends, I've never seen you settle down with anyone. I really wonder what kind of woman could put up with you." I stood listening to E.K's complaints without paying much attention because he wasn't really any better or different from me. He might be slightly better because he dates one person at a time, unlike me, who never commits since I'm more focused on the physical side of things. But to be fair, it's not like I've never dated anyone; it's just been so long that I've forgotten what it's like. Anyway, I was now looking at a first-year female student sitting in the row in front. She looked at me with a strange expression, and I felt a sense of familiarity that I couldn't quite place, unsure if I knew her. "What are you staring at? I see you staring without blinking. Are you interested in being a first-year student again? You do this every year." "I feel like I recognize that girl's face." "Which one? There are hundreds sitting here." "That one, with the long brown hair, sitting in the second row over there." I pointed her out to E.K. "Oh, that's Fae Miller." "What did you say her name was?" "Fae Miller??" When E.K mentioned her name, it immediately clicked why her face seemed familiar. She was Fae Miller, my ex-girlfriend. But what puzzled me was how Fae Miller, who was my age, was still a first-year student.