Come to me Melinda.
I heard his purring voice in my mind, before he said it out loud. Soft, velvety, almost hypnotic tones echo my name. Like an alluring whisper of magic, they streak down my spine. I shiver. Someone’s just walked over my grave. And I like it.
I put the kettle on for the coffee I promised him after he drove me home from the party. He knew I hadn’t been in the neighbourhood long, and wouldn’t allow me to hail a cab at this time of night. Too dangerous he said. I remember gawking at how ridiculous that sounded. But he was right. I wasn’t from around these parts. I didn’t know what I was dealing with. Yet. Coffee, I wondered as I added a spoonful into each mug, does he think that is that code for sex? I hope so.
As the kettle boils and we’re making small talk, I look out the window into the darkness at my back garden. I’m thankful that out here in the remote countryside I’m surrounded with trees and not houses. I haven’t had time to buy blinds for my kitchen window yet.
In the reflection, I watch him as he takes off his leather jacket. His dark, slightly curly brown hair loosely rests on his shoulders. And those eyes. Even through the dark window’s reflection they’re a piercing sea blue. Oh, what I would do to be able to dive deep into those blue pools of light and float away into oblivion. I shake my head, not quite believing how taken in I am by this man’s beauty. And how much I really want him to fuck me.
I pour the boiling water in the mugs, give them a quick stir and turn around. He’s hanging his jacket over a kitchen chair. I sneak a glance at his body totally in awe of what stands before me. His arms, thick like tree trunks, are muscled and tanned. I see a black tattoo just peeping out from underneath his T-shirt sleeve. I swallow. Lick my lips. I’ve always liked men with tatts and muscles. He’s the manifestation of a one true god, I’d love to worship.
He smiles as if he can hear what I’m thinking and likes what he hears.
Come to me Melinda.
I place the steaming hot mugs on the table. Without removing my eyes from his I sashay towards him. Giving him my best, seductive wriggle. All thoughts of a coffee nightcap have flown from my mind. I’m acutely aware how warm the room has grown. My heart’s thudding. My breathing is ragged. I’m so excited I can hardly breathe. He’s so sexy. So alluring. It’s almost all too much to bear.
As I draw near in a dreamlike state, he opens his arms wide, encouraging me closer. There’s an undeniable rising attraction between us; a kind of animal magnetism fills the air. It surrounds us like a hunger feeding off our very souls -- a developing need -- craving release. I recognise it for what it is. Lust. Yet, even though he is a stranger and I don’t want this to stop, I find myself hesitating.
A slow, wicked smile forms on his lips, as if willing me to step forward and succumb; to cross over from reality into fantasy with just one more step. Suddenly my mind’s a blur of doubt. I’m worried about revealing my true self. So many secrets I’d sworn to keep hidden deep within my subconscious, never to see the light of day again. Or so I thought. But as soon as these thoughts cross my mind I realise it’s too late. Nothing will hide this powerful force growing within me -- my inherent neediness -- from taking over. It’s part of who I am. My very being. The essence of me.
I blink. Trying to think coherently. Hadn’t I crushed this need, wiped the slate clean and started over already? Deep inside something tells me I should have known better. Nothing in life worth fighting for is ever that easy. The dead and buried always come back to haunt me. I’d be a fool to think otherwise.
And now something has nudged awake part of my psyche that’s been hidden away for so long. I’m finding it hard to keep it from breaking free. Like a caged monster its resurfacing, as if from a deep sleep. Bringing with it so many mixed up feelings, wants and needs I cannot control. And now they’re back. With a vengeance.
‘Give yourself to me, Melinda’, he says, his sapphire eyes boring into me. Every bone in my body tingles in response. I hardly know this man, yet I want nothing more than to please him. It’s an urge I must fulfil. And it’s seeping through my pores, from the very centre of my soul, threatening to expose the real me. In fact, I’ve an overwhelming desire to be taken and fucked by this Adonis. My eyes flick to the kitchen table.
Right here. Right now. On that.
Not being able to hold myself back any longer, I go for it and step into his arms. His body envelopes me, pulling me close. I hear him breathe in the scent of my hair. Taking every bit of me in.
Without talking, he loosens his hold and takes a step back. For a moment, my neediness kicks in. Has he changed his mind? What’s wrong with me? I should have realised this is too good to be true. But my fear is short-lived as he uses one hand to weave his fingers through my hair, swiftly gathering it up into a ponytail and gripping tight, whilst the other hand I hear is unbuckling his trousers. It’s the moment where I realise that line has been well and truly crossed. There’s no going back now. We both know it. We both need this.
Using my hair as a guide he pulls my face towards his and teases my lips with little kisses. He’s holding my head just a couple of centimetres too far back, so as hard as I try I cannot kiss him back unless he loosens his grip and lets me. His teasing lips are turning me wild with need. Like a wanton whore I’ll do anything just for one deep kiss. But he won’t let me have one. He’s toying with me. Working me up into a sexual frenzy.
‘Melinda’, he breathes, tickling my ear with the deep thrum of his baritone. Although soothing, there’s an undeniable edge to it. One of danger and power. Instantly I melt beneath him.
In one swift movement, he uses my hair to push me downwards. His grip is so tight, my scalp sears with pain. Seconds later I find myself on my knees looking up at his big, wide, cock, as it bounces out in front of my face. Before I’ve even had time to admire it, he shoves his dick forcibly through my lips. Helpless to refuse, I can do nothing but open my mouth as wide as it will go until his shaft hits the back of my throat. It’s a struggle to take it all in. Its girth threatens to choke me.
I hear him groan in ecstasy, as his hand roughly guides me up and down his long, thick shaft, using my mouth to pleasure himself. He’s rough, demanding and totally in control. I love it. Somehow this stranger seems to know I would.
My mind, like my body, is a hot mess. My pussy’s wet with excitement. Both the pleasure and the pain he’s inflicting is turning me into a wanton whore. And I love how this makes me feel. Used. Abused. Powerless. I’m nothing but a needy common slut, a lowlife, and I need to be reminded of my place.