Waiting for Joy: a Forbidden Affair
Copyright© 2026 by Lina Da Silva
Chapter 3: A Midnight Vow
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 3: A Midnight Vow - She waited her whole life for love—just not like this. In her forties, Rose meets Steve, a man she cannot have but cannot resist. Their connection ignites into something raw and consuming in a secluded winter escape. But when desire clashes with reality, she must face the truth: is stolen passion enough when your heart demands more?
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Cheating BDSM DomSub Interracial White Male Oriental Female Masturbation Oral Sex Tit-Fucking Big Breasts Slow
“You don’t want to know what I am thinking.”
“I told you I want to know ... Where are those kisses landing? Tell me!”
“If I tell you, I would steal your time from Sam.”
“He is playing by himself. I am just here seated looking after him, waiting for your messages.”
“I want to sit on your lap, TBH.”
“Oh, you have to earn that spot, you know that.”
“Sounds like a punishment.”
“Don’t test me.”
“Mmmm. Is it like stripping my bottoms and receiving spankings that sting?”
“Yes. With my bare hands, of course – as my teeth pull your nipples.”
“Mmmm. Shucks! I miss your lips around my nipples ... Your teeth belong here. And your handprints on my ass.”
“You are killing me, Rose!”
“Am I? But I am the one who is so wet right here!”
“Once your ass is so red, I would go down on you and slide my tongue in your pussy, lapping up your wetness.”
“Mmm ... Sticking my redenned ass on all fours so you could lick my needy pussy well!”
“Pressing my tongue flat on your pussy. I am nibbling your clit as I slide in one finger, pumping into your slick folds.”
“Oh, fucccckk! Don’t stop, Steve! I am soaking here. Are you hard for real?”
“I am so hard for you, Rose. I want to fuck you for real. All the time.”
“You still do – even if you see me through and through, knowing that I can be so dramatic?”
“I’m glad that you show me yourself and you keep on coming back despite everything ... Pushing my hard cock into you now.”
“Mmm, yes! I want that cock so bad inside me.”
“Slamming into you. Our flesh slapping. Pulling your hair as you push yourself back against me.”
“Oh, Steve, don’t stop! Grab my breasts as you fuck me harder!”
“Biting that part of your neck that connects to your shoulder as I drive faster and deeper.”
“Mmm ... Fuccckkkk!”
“Oh, I wish I could cum with you for real.”
“One day, my heart. One day we will cum together for real.”
STEVE STANDS IN FRONT of a seemingly abandoned house in the countryside. The wind blows softly, the melancholic kind. He hears some footsteps coming from the backyard. Rustles of dried leaves carried by the wind. And a voice.
“Steve!” Rose calls in a frail voice.
“Oh, I thought you wouldn’t come! I’ve been here for hours, my Rose.”
“Sorry for keeping you waiting. My body hurts a lot, as you know.”
He touches her waist, but his hand grips just the wind. Her eyes, which used to be filled with light, are now watery.
“I am so sorry, Steve ... I am sure that we are meant to be together. But not in this lifetime. Whatever happens, our souls will find each other again.”
He could not utter a word. He still tries to grab her, hold her close to his chest, but she remains unmoved, just like a hollow figure standing in front of him, but one that belongs to the wind.
“No, I own you, as you promised – right here, in my world. Get out of whatever kind of fucking place you are in and be with me now.” Steve commands as his voice breaks.
Rose remains unmoved, untouched by him. Her wavy black hair drapes over her shoulder. She forces a smile, and the water from her eyes continues to roll down her cheeks.
Suddenly, a billion bright particles forming a thread come out of her chest. Steve sees this thread glistening like fire, bright red glowing, and flowing into the air in his world, passing through his chest – filling him with unexplainable warmth, calming his nerves until it wraps his beating heart.
He sees Rose disappear right in front of him, yet the red string remains floating, tugging his heart to follow wherever it floats. He steps into the unknown, and he suddenly feels light. He could not feel the ground under his feet. He just feels all this beautiful warmth enveloping him.
Then he wakes up in the soft bed with the woman who just said goodbye in his dream. His chest is heaving. He thought he was crying, but his eyes were dry. She faces the wall, curled under the covers, so he reaches out to her and gives her a tight embrace. She moves her body closer to him, and he feels his cock harden even more. He feels that she is shaking a bit.
Indeed, that cabin in Ottawa feels utterly cold on this winter night. Steve lifts his head a bit to check the fireplace. He slowly unwraps her from his arms and slips out of the covers. He walks toward the fireplace and places more logs into it. He uses the long metal stick to gather the burned ones closer to the new logs. It smells promising. As he stares at the fire, he remembers the red flame of thread that connects his heart to Rose’s in his dream.
Is it a bad dream? He thinks it is. Because he can’t hold her there, and she disappears. But this thought can also happen in real life. As they just really connected online, without any security of a long-term relationship, let alone a committed one, because he is still keeping his marriage with Sarah.
The good thing is that he felt warm as he woke up. Maybe that heat has made his hardwood grow between his legs. Now he can’t squat in front of the fireplace. So he pulls the tiny cushioned seat under the living room’s circular glass table. A piece of sketch paper fell.
He picks the sketch paper and sees a painting of two dark figures almost kissing. The man holds the woman tenderly, and she holds him back. Her heart glows like fire. They hold countless stars and constellations in their bodies.
At the back of this painting is an inscription, “When can I finally let him go?”
Steve feels like a knife stabbed his back. And the wound can only be mended by one touch from that woman sleeping over there. He stares at Rose from the fireplace. He can’t believe that it has been two years since they fought for their love together, yet, secretly, at the back of her mind, she still wants to leave him.
He looks at the painting on that sketch pad, and suddenly, he wants to tear it. But he can’t. He gave the painting set and the sketchbook as his welcome gift to her, but why would he be so mad at how she expressed herself in her art?
So he placed it back where he found it – tucked under the living room table. He looks back at the log, and the new ones have finally caught fire. He steps closer to it to feel more warmth. Now he is torn between restraining himself from doing to Rose what he had been wanting to do before this bad dream occurred, or just letting it go so she could feel how much he wanted to possess her as his own.
With his gut still shaking, Steve feels he can’t tame that raw need to have Rose right now. He knows she is still so sore from all the fucking that they did before they slept, but he wanted more of her, and all of her – body and soul. His desire is so much deeper than he anticipated before driving to this secluded place.
Reason and passion clash deep inside him. His gentle side is saying he has to let her rest. Her body is still fragile from the intensity of their lovemaking. Yet, he wants to disprove this dream. The primal voice in him demands that he hold her in his arms anytime he wants in this cabin, and he will have her on her knees begging.
So he walks closely back to the edge of the bed. The hardwood between his legs throbs even faster. He needs her so bad that he can’t think he could go back to sleep at midnight at all. He must take her again; the primal wins over the gentle deep within.
To him, Rose sleeps like an Asian fairy ready to fulfil his wish. Serenely tucked in, her dark wavy locks draping her shoulder, with their tip resting on her sumptuous cleavage. Her forehead has a few lines, but they are not so fine. Her small eyes closed with curly lashes, and her luscious lips pressed to each other, begging for his kiss. His kiss or his strong manhood?
Here goes his wish.