Remembering Melissa

Melissa's with another man now.

When I met her, it was roughly four years ago, and she was married to a guy in California who didn't really seem to care too much about her, what she wanted out of life, or what her interests were. Instead, he only seemed to care about who she was hanging out with, since her friends were deemed "weird" by him.

When I met her, it was at a large concert in Virginia. We'd met that April and instantly hit it off: me, slightly dorky in nature but relatively handsome. She was a dusty blonde with short hair, one of those "outdoorsy" types with a slim body, small breasts and a cute ass. The kind of girl that looked like she was very limber...if you were thinking that way.

And in my own usual way, I was.

Melissa and I exchanged numbers before we went back to our respective homes, and would call and talk to each other, or email. She'd call me when her husband wasn't home, presumably to just keep things copacetic in her house. I understood. Here was this amazing woman, stuck in a situation she didn't know how to cope with.

I had an idea, however. I invited her to come stay with me one weekend, since there was a concert in a nearby town in New York that I thought she'd enjoy.

Without fail, she booked the flight, blew off her husband's complaints, and flew cross-country to meet me again.

When she came out of the concourse at the airport, she looked gorgeous. A black tank-top clung to her, followed by a long, sweeping black skirt that went down to her ankles. I was taken. We moved towards each other, and kissed quickly. I knew I had to get her home, or I was going to explode right then and there.

The drive back to my apartment was short and quiet, with the prerequisite small talk that you would hear before any other kind of hook-up, I suppose. We'd talked for so often and so long, we knew a lot about each other already. There wasn't much left that we needed to say at this point.

Once we got into my studio, she turned around and that's when I kissed her, deep and hard. She returned it, hands in my hair, moaning through the kiss.

I pushed her slowly back on my couch and raised her skirt up enough to get my hands underneath, and pulled down a pair of black cotton panties. She started to say something, but I don't remember what. I just recall the sight of her shaved pussy, with her legs slightly spread, and myself diving in, to have my tongue everywhere.

She gasped, and spread her legs wider to make more room for me. I sucked on her clit, hands under her thighs, lifting her up as if I was drinking from some sort of ceremonial bowl. It sounds crazy, but it's so true - it was perfect. She was delicious, and for the first time in a long time, we were both happy.

I kept up this attack as I fumbled for my own jeans, undoing them and pushing them down to my knees as I kneeled on the floor. I pulled her further down the couch a little, kicked the jeans off, and with one swift fluid motion, entered her fully.

She moaned and bit my neck. It was wonderful; so warm, wet, new to me. She pulled off her tank-top to reveal a sports bra, which she yanked off immediately after. We laid there together, she underneath me; I slowly fucked her there, kissing her, feeling the orgasm rising in both of us.

I didn't bother asking what to do or what she wanted; I knew that anything was fine. I started to move faster, feeling that familiar slickness, and pulled out to move to her head. She took my cock in her mouth, sucking, licking, stroking the shaft of it until I exploded, cumming in her mouth to the point where it trickled out and ran down her cheeks.

She was tired, as was I, so we cleaned up and got into bed, holding each other close and falling asleep.

* * *

We were supposed to go to the concert the next day, but we ended up staying with friends at their camp outside of the city. We weren't "a couple" now, nor did she have plans to leave her husband at all -- I wouldn't even call it a "friends with benefits" thing, for that would imply we'd discussed doing it again. I think we figured we'd do whatever came naturally.

That evening, after multiple glasses of wine and a couple of joints with friends, we retired to the cabin our friends had set up for us. It was a small cabin with curtains and a wood stove; very rustic yet homey.

It couldn't have been more than 55 degrees that night, given that it was just become Autumn and there were no clouds. Melissa snuggled close to me in the bed and we started kissing; kissing gave way to touching; touching gave way to removing our clothes again, and we found ourselves in a delicious 69, she on top while I ate her out from below.

I caressed her tight ass and let my fingers wander, finding her tight anus and just lightly tapping over it. She moaned, and I decided to be a bit more daring. I licked my ringfinger, deciding that it was the smallest and easiest finger to attempt this with (my pinky was too small, I thought) and slowly pressed it against her bud. She moaned "yes" around my cock, and I pushed further, entering her ever so slightly.

She bucked slightly, and I started to concentrate more on her clit as I moved my finger in and out of her as minimally as possible, wanting nothing but to make her feel good, to accentuate the orgasm.

She came hard, her whole body vibrating, warm against me. I came soon after, and she was enthusiastic, drinking down everything I had to offer her.

We slept well that night, despite knowing she'd be flying back soon. There would be more chances for us in the future, we figured; it would just be a matter of seeing what that future held for us.