Lust and Love on The Island of Rhodes - Sex Stories

Lust and Love on The Island of Rhodes

... T-shirt and felt tears swelling in my eyes and saw the pain I was causing this beautiful, sexy woman who was promising me every thing a man could want--passion, sex, life on an island away from all of societies’ stress and materialism, the danger and excitement of the unknown, the adventure of living for the moment, lust and freedom and the magnificent blue Mediterranean filling my days. Why couldn’t I write here, what was I giving up, why not abandon the ship, the money, my journals and stay with her and have what she was offering me. “Please, please, stay with me. I want you to stay. I will make you happy.” Putting on my shoes as I sat on the bed, I looked down at her on her knees between my legs. She put her arms around my waist, holding me, looking up into my eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I love you. I love you,” she said in a quivering, passionate voice. I didn’t know what to think or say. How could she love me? She was a whore getting me to spend money, and we got drunk and had wild passionate sex, but I also knew we bonded in a way that is rare, that it was more than fucking, and I could see through her efforts to seduce me, her sweet innocence and her desire to be more than an olive farmer’s daughter. She was an artist and ambitious to break out of the poverty and hard work of the farm, so she came when Paul called her to sell herself for money. She came so she could buy the sexy clothes and jewelry a young woman wants to feel alive, even though it was not ...

... enough to take away her yearning for a man who wanted her and loved her. Standing up, ready to leave, forcing her to release her arms, I pulled out my wallet and threw the money on the bed. She grabbed the money, stood up and threw it back at me, hitting my face. “I don’t want your money, I want you. Stay with me.” I couldn’t believe she threw the money at me, but I let it drop to the floor, then opened the door and started down the stairs. “The money is yours,” I said, feeling cruel and heartless, treating her like a whore, but still unsure if I was doing the right thing leaving this beautiful woman and the promises she was offering, the temptation to stay and be with her, rising. Halfway down the stairs, I looked up at her standing naked in the doorway, her wild, dark hair, her brown eyes, her sad, pouting mouth, her breasts, hips, pussy barely covered with hair, her wonderful legs that had wrapped around me, holding me in her. How can I leave? I wondered, but turned, resisting my desire to run up the stairs, take her in my arms and fuck her on the bedroom floor. She followed me down the stairs, across the patio and to the entrance of the café. I stopped in the middle of the room to look back at her before leaving. She caught me, fell to the floor and wrapped her arms around my legs and cried, “Please, don’t leave me.” I pulled her arms away and continued through the café to the door and saw Paul at the bar look at me, then at Annika naked and crying on the floor. I took more ...