1. Sherry, The Storyteller Pt.3


    Date: 10/12/2015, Categories: Straight Sex, Author: Sisyphus, Rating: 1, Source: LushStories

    when he said he wanted to marry me or let me go. He said, “You've been living here for over a year, writing and telling me stories. I'm not the same man I was before you came into my life, but something is not right. You act as if you're not afraid of me. You laugh and we have fun, but I can feel you're hiding behind a wall I can't break through, and so I have made a decision. I don't want things to continue this way. I never thought I would marry anyone. I was too selfish, too angry at women for reasons you don't know, but you have healed my anger by your sweetness, your stories, your wild imagination. You know how much I love you, how much I adore you, but I can't reach your heart.” “ Then why do you want to marry me? That doesn't make sense.” “ I said 'I want to marry you or let you go.'” “ Why would you let me go if we have fun and you enjoy my stories. I love living here and telling you stories.” “ I know, but I want you here because you see who I am, that I'm no longer the man who wants to fuck young women and toss them away. I want your love and have realized I will never have it. I don't care if we get legally married, but I want to feel your love and not have you hiding behind a mask—a storyteller. It's too painful wanting you and knowing you can't or won't give yourself to me.” It hurt to see how sad he was as he spoke, how I was causing him so much pain, but at the same time, that's what I wanted. I wanted to break his heart. “ Do you really want me to leave?” ...
    I asked. “ No, I want you to love me, but if you can't, I have to let you go so you can find happiness with a man you can love. I can tell by your stories that's what you want.” It was true. Though I wrote erotic stories, they were really love stories, more like R rated movies, but I was imagining someone who I could give myself to like I do to my writing and knew it could never be Angelo and that was painful for me. Why couldn't I change like Angelo did? What the fuck was wrong with me? It was hard to leave and know I didn't want to go back home. I cried in the elevator as I carried my suitcase, now with new clothes and jewelry Angelo had bought. I stayed that first night with my sister and her boyfriend. What she saw in him I'll never know. Mindy knew what had happened and invited me to stay with her in a spare room until I could find my own place. At work, I put on my happy face and gave really good service, made good tips but found myself checking my cellphone to see if Angelo had called, but he hadn't, and wondered why did I want to hear his voice. After work. I'd sit with the staff and have a meal and wine and we laughed, but I kept looking at the door to see if he would come in and ask if I wanted a drink the way he did that first night. What was going on with me? Why did I want him and not want him? It was crazy. For some reason, I was writing more poetry than erotic stories, and they were all poems of yearning. I got a few of them published on line where I used to ...
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