The Man Of Sin: Chapter 7 - Sex Stories

Sex Stories, Erotic Stories, Porn Stories, XNXX Stories, Adult Stories, XXX Stories

Sex Stories Categories: Fiction, Blowjob, Anal, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Cum Swallowing, Fantasy, Incest, Hardcore, First Time, Dark Fantasy, Young, Group Sex, True Story, Romance, Masturbation, Domination/submission, Male/Female, Teen Male/Teen Female, Written by women, Teen, Erotica, Lesbian, Mature, Bi-sexual, BDSM, Exhibitionism, Virginity, Taboo, Humiliation, Female/Female, Cheating, Reluctance, Male/Teen Female, Rape, Threesome, Bondage and restriction, Gay, School, Voyeurism, Non-consensual sex, Cruelty, Love Poems, Violence, Teen Male / Female, Ass to mouth, Coercion, Wife, Male / Females, Job/Place-of-work,

The Man Of Sin: Chapter 7

Date: 5/5/2015, Categories: Dark Fantasy, BDSM, Bondage and restriction, Oral Sex, Author: Sage Of The Forlorn Path, Rating: 93.8, Source: sexstories.com

you mean?” “That’s right.” “Well how do you expect to get in if you’re too weak to pass the physical exam?” He cut up a piece of chicken and held it out to her on the end of his fork. She continued to ignore him, even as he brought it close to her face. “Helena, I am more than prepared to hold my arm out like this until the check comes. How long do you think you can ignore me?” “As long as it takes.” “Even if I do this?” He started poking her in the lips with the piece of meat, reddening them with the sauce. People at other tables were watching them and snickering. It only took a few pokes for her to snap in embarrassment. “Stop making fun of me!” “Stop being rude and just eat the chicken.” Helena sighed and pulled it off with her teeth, careful not to let her lips touch his fork. The moment she started chewing it, she realized how unsatisfying soup and salad were for lunch. “It’s good, isn’t it?” She looked away and blushed. “I guess.” “Want the rest? You can have it if you like.” She just wanted to scream, feeling herself being driven crazy by that smug tone of his. “…Yes please.” After touring a few other locations, Xavier suggested a walk through the park for a change of pace. As long as it meant not getting on the scooter, Helena agreed. He took her to Villa Doria Pamphili, a villa-turned museum with the grounds serving as the largest park in Rome. They orbited the white building, sticking to the shade of the trees as they enjoyed the beauty of the day. “You know, ... there is something that I never got an answer for…” Helena turned to him, afraid of what he would ask. “Why DO you try so hard to hide your accent? You’re a true daughter of the emerald isle, but I can tell with every word you speak that you try to hide it. It’s almost like a fake American accent, what you do.” As she had again and again, she averted his gaze, unable to look him in the eyes. It was a question that she didn’t want to answer, but what perplexed her was his tone. It was not mocking, but pure curiosity. He wasn’t asking her as the Antichrist to his hostage… but as a man to a woman. “I just… don’t like that I’m Irish.” “No, it’s more than that. The only people who try to erase or fake an accent are hipsters, guys trying to get laid, and people who want to completely sever the past and either can’t or won’t go home. So what is it? Come on, tell me your story.” Helena clutched herself, seething with anger. “You don’t get to ask me that.” They stared at each other for several moments, the sun on their shoulders. “Very well.” They continued walking, but after twenty steps, they stopped. A married couple was walking down the same path, a golden doodle on a leash, panting with hair over his eyes. Xavier approached them, speaking in Italian. “Excuse me, may I pet your dog?” They smiled and nodded, and Helena watched in amazement as he got down on one knee and began rubbing the pooch’s fluffy body with a grin. The dog wagged his tail and chewed on his hands, with Xavier… ...