Persuasive Approval - Sex Stories

Persuasive Approval

... she confirmed, with a tone of authority, draining the wine in her glass. “Unfortunately, for some men, one of the symptoms associated with this type of illness can lead to erectile dysfunction.” She pursed her bottom lip and sighed into her empty glass. “He’s impotent.” After a long agonising pause she smiled and added. “We haven’t had sexual intercourse for almost four years,” she confessed, pouring wine into glasses and lighting a cigarette, shuffling uncomfortably in the chair, letting her head fall back and blowing plumes of smoke above her head. “I should also tell you that for most of our time together Charles was only interested in sex when he had too much to drink, and even then his mind was willing but his equipment needed help,” she declared, the white smoke coiling around her face. “His interest in sex declined long before his medical problems,” she sighed, searching inside her bag for a paper tissue, forcing a smile and brushing a tear from the corner of her eye. “For a long time I’ve shared a bed with a deficient lifeless man. Most nights I just lie in bed imagining what it would be like to have a physical sexual partner. I’m still young. I have needs,” she sighed. “This conversation doesn’t make me feel any better,” he snapped, pausing long enough for Beverley to interrupt his thoughts. “Charles understands that everyone has needs,” she said reassuringly, her voice trailing off as she sipped her drink and gathered her thoughts. “So I asked him if I could sleep ...

... with you,” she said, shamelessly and rather matter-of-fact, the boldness of her statement forcing him to gasp into his drink. “You asked him…What!?” he barked, picking up a serviette and wiping dribbles of wine from his chin, lowering his voice to a whisper when he realised his outburst was attracting the attention of other diners. She paused long enough to give him time to compose himself. “After a long conversation on the matter Charles said that I could sleep with you. He even gave us his blessing. And he told me that he also values your friendship,” she said, with casual ease, raising her glass as if proposing a toast. “You asked him if you could sleep with me?” he repeated, warning bells ringing loudly in his head, his stomach churning, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him alive. It had started to rain when the taxi dropped them back at the Royal Belvedere Arms Hotel. To avoid suspicious eyes and gossiping tongues and to give Beverley enough time to let the staff go home and lock the premises, he made a hasty detour to his room. After waiting anxiously in his room for twenty minutes he returned to the bar. The room was dark and quiet and there was no sign of Beverley, although the two glasses of wine on the bar with a smearing of red lipstick on one of the glasses, suggested she wasn’t too far away. Sitting on a bar stool smoking a cigarette and sipping his wine, humming to the soft soothing voice of Roberta Flack singing “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face,” ...