My Last Morning With Melissa - Sex Stories

My Last Morning With Melissa

... cooled and the winters rains began to make the complex's sparse laundry less than comfortable, moving our wash day get-together to the small kitchenette in my apartment seemed as sensible to me as it was unthreatening to her. It was at that time I learned of her taste for cinnamon in her coffee and its acridly sweet scent still reminds me of her to this day. By January, our comfort and trust had grown to the point where we were sharing more than the passing erotic fantasies found in the shallow pages of dime store novels. Melissa confided in me her deeper desires and I, in turn, revealed my own sordid history of past sexual dalliances. Even then, I could not say there was a promise of anything between us more than the satisfying honesty of having someone with whom we could share such intimate thoughts. Deep in my heart though I could no longer deny how much I had come to want her. From the beginning, it was painfully obvious that Melissa was happy in her marriage and I came to silently despair that our conversations would remain nothing more than pure fantasy. The truth of it haunted me, because while it was equally obvious that as gentle a lover her husband was, there was a fire within her that he could not begin to comprehend. It was there though, hot and alive in her breast, and every time she spoke of raw passion I could see that longing, that emptiness, slowly eating away at her. It was a time that was as wonderful for me as it was frustrating. I thought of her ...

... constantly, not out of love because I didn't feel that for her. Nor, I was certain, did she feel it for me. No, it was the chemistry we shared to which I was addicted. For three wonderful days each week I would sit across my table from her, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette while I lost myself in my never-to-be-fulfilled desire for a happily married woman. It was as glorious as it was maddening. It was on a cold but sunny February morning that everything changed. I could see from the moment she appeared that there was something on her mind. The normally breezy ease she shared with me had been replaced by an anxiety that I couldn't quite explain. I knew something was off, and it was with a sense of foreboding that I poured that first cup of coffee. Watching silently as she swirled her cinnamon stick into the steaming cup, I finally built up the nerve to take her hand in mine. "Melissa, is there something wrong? If there is, you know you can tell me. I'm your friend and if there's anything I can do..." Melissa smiled sadly and shook her head. "No David, I'm sorry but there's nothing you can do. My husband and I are moving away at the end of the month. I... I should have told you sooner, but I just couldn't bring myself to say it until I was sure." "Moving? Oh gosh, I'm really sorry to hear that." I sat back in my chair and brushed my dark hair back over my head, trying hard to keep my thoughts focused on her, and not to allow the moment to become about my own loss. Finally, I ...