1. My Last Morning With Melissa


    Date: 3/22/2015, Categories: Fantasy, Anal, Erotica, Oral Sex, Reluctance, Author: Unknow user, Rating: 87.5, Source: sexstories.com

    took the young virgin in a way that was almost as forceful as it was passionate. In the beginning he had no love for her, and she less for him, but he found her impossible to resist, and she had no will to resist him at all. On and on through the first half of the book, the story unfolded of a strong man who took in graphic detail what he wanted and a young woman who failed in her feeble attempts to resist him. Late into the night I poured over the pages and I could not help but wonder why Melissa would have given me this book of all things as our last story to share. As dawn rose, I fell asleep, wondering what message she was trying to send. Despite the obvious answer, I couldn't quite believe she intended me to take it as the hint it so clearly seemed to be. The next few days darkened as a storm moved in and with it so too did my thoughts. I had long sensed Melissa possessed a need far more feral than her husband could fulfill and the unbridled lust portrayed in that book mocked my gentleman's restraint. I felt a burning hunger build within me as I finished it. By then I could barely breathe when I thought of seeing her again. Rain was falling in sheets the morning of that third day. A cold wind had carried in a storm that held a fury not often seen in Southern California. As the rain poured down, I knew there would be no casual meeting for our usual laundry day get together. I found myself pacing my small apartment like a caged animal, cursing the storm that dared rob me ...
    of the preciously short time that remained in my friendship with Melissa. It was in that state of mind that I heard the soft knock on my door. I don't remember running for it but I am sure I must have. I do remember seeing Melissa standing on my porch, dripping wet with the dew of rain running down her face. Quickly, I invited her in, and as the door closed, we stood inches apart and yet could find no words to say. "Melissa," I began, but the fevered look on her sculptured face caused my throat to clench and dry. She gazed into my eyes with a terrified wonder as if she were waiting for something both dreadful and sublime. Somehow, in that wordless dialogue we both knew what neither of us could ever say. Then, with an almost fearful breathlessness, she asked, "Did you read it?" "Yes," I said and my hand rose to her cheek. She nuzzled into it with a pained smile and as I struggled between my masculine need and my gentleman's restraint, Melissa whispered, "Please, don't ask. Don't make me choose. Don't give me the chance to say no." I'll always wonder if lightning chose that moment to strike, and if there be poetry in a storm it most certainly would have. In that flash, I moved toward her, pressing her against the wall and crushing my lips against hers. She may have resisted for a moment. I remember the dull and weak impacts of her fists on my chest as our bodies came together. Tightly, she grasped the cotton of my shirt, pressing her balled up hands against me as if to push me ...
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