It’s one of those decisions you know you shouldn’t make but can’t help it. I was in the general area of an Ex-girlfriend of mine, one that I had not seen for ages and something just came over me, a desire to find out if she still lived in the same house, and if so, how she was keeping?
It was a bad decision. Or was it?
I had always thought of her from time to time, simply because I believed, just as we were breaking up, that I had understood her. Over the years, I had mulled events over in my head, but my head kept telling me that it would be nice to know for sure.
I parked my car a little down the road and started to walk past her house, looking in through the window to see if anyone was at home. Hoping for what? I didn’t know; perhaps hoping that she would see me and come running out to greet me. I felt a little relieved to find that there was no sign of movement in the house even though the lights were on and I started to walk onwards. I decided that I would turn around and head back to the car. Curiosity satisfied, I could go home.
I wasn’t expecting the woman standing in front of me with two shopping bags full to the brim to be calling out my name.
“Richard?”
I was startled. My mouth dropped open as I took in her features. She hadn’t changed much.
“Melissa! Fancy meeting you here?”
I secretly shook my head in despair at my attempt at surprise but I could tell she knew the truth. I could see it in her wry smile and the way she pursed her lips. I quickly looked down to her heaving bags of shopping, trying their best to contain their contents by the thin straining handles.
“They look heavy. Let me,” I said moving towards her and nodding to the bags in her hands.
She let me take one of the bags and started to walk towards her house.
“So what are you really doing here?” she asked as she glanced sideways at me.
“Just passing. I had to drop some documents off to a place close by. How are you anyway? How are you keeping? You’re looking well.”
Melissa nodded. She put her bag on the floor and after fishing her key out of her handbag she opened the door.
She looked at me. “Do you want to come in for a coffee?”
My heart was declining her offer, knowing that I shouldn’t do it, not really. I had already made a bit of a fool of myself, so to take this any further would have been a big mistake.
“Yes, I’d love to,” I found myself telling her.
Melissa picked up her bag and walked straight through to the kitchen. I followed her and we just placed the bags on the kitchen table and left them there. Melissa filled the kettle, replaced it on the stand and switched it on. She lifted two mugs from mug-tree on the kitchen sink, gave them a quick swill and filled them with coffee.
“Milk and sugar?”
I nodded.
We waited for the water to boil, avoiding conversation and suspended in that awkward silence that weighed heavily on us.
“So how are you keeping?” I blurted out.
“Good,” she replied, nodding. I detected that she was a little hesitant in her reply, probably as a result of me being there. After all I was not someone she was expecting to see, ever.
“No-one in your life?”
I was cringing at those very words myself, but they refused to stay hidden. They were a feeble attempt to know whether anyone else was going to turn up.
Melissa giggle and turned to face me, resting her bum against the kitchen sink. She smiled, or should I say, she pouted.
“Nobody wants me – remember!”
I raised my finger and shook it slightly. I wanted to say ‘not fair’, but this time, I kept my mouth shut. It had been her that couldn’t make her mind up about us, not me. It had been her that always said that she was unsure. I had just got fed up with the uncertainty and called it a day.
The kettle’s whistle interrupted yet another bout of silence. Melissa turned to pour the water and make the coffee, handing me a mug as soon as she stirred it. We headed to the lounge and sat on the sofa and this time, we chatted a little easier.
She found out quite a bit about what had happened to me in the intervening years and she was also forthcoming with her own events. We had a reasonably good chat and we laughed as well, which in my book, is always a good sign.
“So, when did you get married?” she asked.
“Oh, about three years ago,” I replied with a smile. “She’s lovely. I think you’d like her.”
“I’m sure I would,” she replied with a grin.
We both knew, deep down, that Melissa would like her and we both giggled to ourselves while staring into our coffee cups.
“I don’t suppose she’s –“
I shook my head.
Melissa seemed a little disappointed but then smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
“Well, we can’t have everything, can we.”
It was my turn to nod and contemplate the contents of my mug, once more.
I took a sip of coffee as Melissa placed her cup on the table beside the sofa. She stood up and walked to the TV, switched it on and selected a radio station from the list of options.
Melissa sat on the arm of one of the chairs opposite me. We listened to some music and chatted some more. I felt that I should at least make a start to leave, especially as the alternative would be to ask for a second cup of coffee, and that would have been rude.
“I’ll do the honours with the mug,” I said, as I stood up and walked to the kitchen to wash my mug up before leaving.
“Well, -”
“Do you remember that last fuck we had?” interrupted Melissa.
She must have known that I was about to make an exit and now, out of the blue, a reference to our tumultuous past. She only said out loud what we were both thinking.
I couldn’t help but remember the very last time we had sex. It was in my bathroom with Melissa’s hands flat on the wall; her breath spreading across the surface of the mirror as she pushed her bum back towards me. I was forcing her into the wall as my cock fucked into her from behind. Her large, pendulous breasts, squashed, bounced and pounded the wall. She whimpered into the mirror leaving me to fuck her as hard as I could and take my own pleasure. Although that wasn’t my style and I was desperate to hold back and make her come first. Let’s just say, on that occasion, I won.
I wondered to myself whether that was the reason I was here? Not to find out how she was doing, or whether she had married or how many kids she had.
I eventually nodded and smiled at her.
Melissa stood up from the chair and backed herself up against the wall. Her breasts heaved under her blouse and she levelled me with a piercing stare. Her lips quivered and her tongue slipped out from between them to lick her upper lip.
“I… I really have to go. It’s been nice catching up with you.” I stammered.
I half turned away from the sultry and sexy woman that seemed pinned to the wall. As I turned, I expected Melissa to follow me to the door, let me out and say goodbye. I caught a glimpse of her in the large letterbox mirror that almost filled the length of the opposite wall.
I watched her turn so that she faced inwards towards the wall. I took a small pace forward and watched her hands come up behind her but over her blouse. Her fingers briefly grasped at her top and then I watched her place the palm of her hands flat against the wall in front of her. She leaned into the wall a little, pushed her backside towards me and then she wiggled it. I took another step towards the door before I stopped.
I was scared and trembling from the thoughts raging through me. My head had made the firm decision to leave. My other lust-crazed head was telling me to stay, turn around and fuck her. I felt, rather than heard her take a lungful of air and breathe it out.
I shivered, knowing full well I had to leave.
I walked two more paces to the door and grasped the handle to turn it. By the time it was half turned, I had let it go and in three maybe four paces, I had crossed the lounge and was pushing my body up against hers. My hands instantly pulled at her top until it was free from her skirt and with some urgency, I pushed my hands up and under her blouse, cupping her lovely silky smooth breasts under her already loosened bra.
I kissed the back of her neck as I squeezed her flesh; both of us breathing heavily and both driving each other into a crazy frenzy of lust and passion.
I lowered one hand and pushed it under her skirt to pull down on her knickers, pushing them to the floor over her stockinged legs. My hand came up on her sex and I pushed a finger inside her, thrusting it in and out like a piston.
Melissa was moaning and groaning against the wall and then I heard a soft whimper.
“Please, no, don’t do this.”
I shook my head in lust. I knew she wanted it and she knew she craved it.
My fingers pushed inside her cunt, driving her lust further onwards. My other hand pawed at her breast and pinched her nipple and my hot breath on her neck was punctuated with the dirty words she wanted to hear.
Another whimper left her mouth.
“Please don’t. Please don’t fuck me like this.”
I pushed Melissa against the wall and held her firmly with one hand before attending to my trousers. I unbuttoned them and pulled my hard and very erect cock out of my pants. I pushed her back into the wall and told her to spread her legs wide.
“Please no, not like this.”
‘Not like what?’ I thought. I knew she wanted this more than I could imagine. Thoughts came back of that last time this happened, in the bathroom, at my house.
I grasped my cock and pushed it just inside her entrance and while lifting my hands to paw once more at her breasts, I shoved my cock all the way in. The only foreplay she needed was her words of denial. Every time she uttered those pleas, I knew her pussy would be soaked with her juices.
“Take it all,” I growled at her. “You’re lucky it’s not going up your arse.”
Melissa moans reverberated against the wall; but she pushed back with her hands, nevertheless.
“Not like this. Please, no.”
“You’re fucking taking it all – all of it. Do you understand,” I started to play her game and I reckoned we were about even. I knew what was coming next and I waited for it.
“You mustn’t come in me, please don’t come in me.”
I fucked her as hard as I could, and yet, I couldn’t come until she had her orgasm. I told her what she wanted to hear. Those words that would allow her to release all that pent-up energy.
“I’m going to spurt inside you, fill you up, you little slut.”
Melissa started to come. She panted the word ‘fuck’ over and over into the wall as my cock fucked hard into her.
I was satisfied that Melissa’s orgasm was taking over her whole body when her arms and hands started to relax, unable to hold her up against the wall anymore. Her legs started to collapse and I quickly transferred my hands onto and around her waist and fucked her until I came inside her dripping wet cunt.
At last I could relax as I let my seed flood into her; every second or so feeling the passion as my cock clenched and pulsed inside her. Every upward motion of spunk was associated with a driving force from my buttocks as I simultaneously squeezed my cock.
When I was happy that Melissa was full, I pulled my cock from her, letting her sink to the floor in front of me. I stuffed my cock back into my trousers and announced that I was going home.
Melissa looked up at me, panting hard and smiling.
I walked to the front door and just as before, I pulled on the handle to open it. As I was half way out of the door, Melissa laughed loudly and then shouted at me.
“That’s all I ever wanted. To be taken like that. To be fucked hard. Used. Forced to be your wanton slut. I never wanted you to ask me if I wanted to be fucked.”
I paused, slowly taking in her harsh words.
“You had all that potential, but deep down, you were too nice, Richard. Just-too-nice.”
Suddenly, her words didn’t hurt anymore; the ones that she uttered and those that she left me pondering over all those years ago before we parted.
I contemplated her words and rolled them around in my head, ‘too nice, too fucking nice.’
“Bye, Melissa,” I shouted as I closed the door tight.
I walked quickly to my car and drove home.
That was when the guilt started to descend upon me, making me realise that what I had done to my life, and to my wife, was unforgivable.
Melissa was a great fuck when she was riled like that. But she never always showed that side of herself. Not to me anyway and now I knew why ‘too fucking nice’. I pondered hard on what I had done and a few times I closed my eyes as I shook my head not wanting to admit my guilt, trying my best to bury it deep before I got home.
That was when I crossed the thin white line on the road. My car was quickly absorbed by the front of an oncoming lorry. My car twisted as the lorry rode over it and I was trapped for some time before the rescue services cut me free. The damage to my legs and knees was insurmountable. The driver of the lorry kept babbling over and over that it was not his fault. I was in no state to confirm or deny that. During the following year of treatment, the doctor and physiotherapist were ever optimistic but even they had to admit I would never walk again.
I love my wife very much. But how can I tell her, as she looks after me and helps me into the wheelchair and all around the house. Even today, she has the same smile that I saw on her face the day before the accident happened. Every day she shows me the same happiness and the same amount of love.
How can I tell her that the cripple she ended up with, caused his own accident, and all because of a past and a reluctance to let it be? How can I forget my very last fuck?
I look at her and I wonder whether I should tell her. How would she take it? What would she do? How would she feel?
After a year, I am still wondering.
And every day, the guilt eats a little bit more of me.
