My Last Morning With Melissa - Sex Stories

My Last Morning With Melissa

... swallowed my shock along with my pride, and managed to say something that wouldn't immediately come off as self serving. "Well, I can't say I blame you for wanting to get out of this dump. So, what happened? Where are you moving to?" Melissa smiled sadly. "Colorado. My husband got a promotion at his firm, but it means moving to the Denver office." What could I do? I just sat there, gripping my cup as I struggled to contain my sadness. Eventually I forced a smile that must have appeared as sad as the one she wore. "I suppose congratulations are in order, Melissa. I'm really happy for you both. Although, I really am going to miss our mornings." The words felt hollow and lame even as I spoke them. Sitting there and telling her I how happy I was that things were going so well for them may have been the right thing to do, but deep inside my heart, I felt my dislike for her husband turn into a seething hatred. It was a shallow and selfish reaction but I felt it nonetheless. What hurt even more was seeing how sorry she was to have to tell me. That thought, the realization that she cared so much for our friendship, touched me deeply. I knew I should have been honored by her feelings but they only served to make the loss of her friendship that much harder to take. Oh, I tried to deny it, and what followed was an optimistic flurry of attempts to show her how gallantly I could support their decision. All the while though, and through my crocodile smile, I cursed the fate that had ...

... stolen her from my life. Our time together that morning was short and before long Melissa made her goodbye, promising she would drop by again in a few days. Before she left, she pulled a thick and tattered book from her purse and almost reluctantly set it on the table. "This is my favorite book David. You should read it right away. It's... well, you'll see." Watching her walk out the door that morning left me feeling empty and alone. When the door closed and silence filled the room, I gazed down at the dog-eared and well read copy of 'Sweet Savage Love' she'd left behind. That night I poured my customary glass of brandy and sat in my chair as I studied the worn cover of the book. It was a typical Harlequin romance, or so it seemed. It was written by Rosemary Rodgers back in the 1970's and honestly, I didn't expect much from it. Oh, how wrong I was. It was the story of a young woman from the American Antebellum South named Virginia Brandon who, after being raised in Paris, was summoned home during the Civil War by her father. Once there, she quickly found herself in the forced company of a half-breed gunfighter and army spy by the name of Steve Morgan. Being part Native American myself, I couldn't help but feel an immediate connection with this man and soon began to find I was being drawn deeply into the story. That however, was only the beginning of what turned out to be an even larger surprise. With but a kiss at first, and then later in explicit and erotic detail, he seduced and ...