It Wasn't Meant to Happen

The first time she came was little more than a gentle shiver. The second time she cried out. The third time was when I began to empty inside her, pouring my seed into her like emptying a faucet, I came and came and came and she mumbled and writhed atop me.

After, I kissed her face, her breasts, her belly. I ran my fingers through my gift that now streaked her thighs. She put her arms around me and we kissed like we had that first night, innocent and without expectation.

Later I showered. When I came out Steph was sitting at the dresser, a drawer open. I went up behind and looked over her, my arms on her shoulders.

"Put it on me, Matt," she said, reaching her hand back and placing a small ring in my palm. I looked at it. The last time I'd seen the ring was when I'd handed it across at her wedding. It had been Mom's, a simple gold band, not expensive but worth more than money.

"Do I need to be on my knees?" I asked.

"Not unless you mean to go down on me again, no."

I grinned and lifted her hand, slid the ring onto her finger. My cock thickened and began to fill. Steph idly stroked it, no purpose behind it, just the two of us being together. I leaned close and kissed her, wiped a tear from her cheek.

Steph turned back to the dresser and reached inside.

"Hold your hand out," she said, and I did. She opened her hand and showed me a second ring. It had been Pop's. It was thicker, scratched from where he'd always worn it to work, refusing to ever take it off whatever he was doing.

Steph slid it onto my finger. It was a little loose but stayed on.

"I want to come back with you," she said. "To Africa. Nobody knows me there. Tell them we met and got married." She held her hand up. "See, the rings prove it, don't they?" She giggled. "And we've got the same name in our passports." She kissed me. "I want to live with you forever, Matt, if you'll have me."

"Of course I'll have you," I said. "This was meant to be."