There are moments, in an otherwise unhappy life, when it all seems to go right. Perhaps the stars and planets align just so, or fate's roll comes up a double six, or it's just plain dumb luck, but it seems that at certain moments the world just arranges itself so that, for once, I win.
The day I met Melissa was a day like that.
She was absolutely stunning, she was absolutely fascinating, and best of all she was absolutely interested in me. That last is rare indeed for me, but the combination was beyond rare, it was unknown.
I plucked up the courage to ask for her number, and she gave it to me just like that. Before I quite realised how or why, we were dating regularly.
It will be obvious that I had precious little experience of women, especially for a thirty five year old man. Melissa was younger, in her late twenties, but she seemed very worldly compared to me. She was prim and proper for the most part, but now and again she'd make some knowing comment, a twinkle of delight in her eyes. The first time we went out on a date I spent the entire day running over and over it in my head, rehearsing hopefully funny things to say. I was nervous as hell all night long, but I kept it carefully hidden, stayed cool and collected on the outside. Or so I thought. As I dropped Melissa off at home I was debating whether to kiss her goodnight, rolling it around in my head. I finally decided against it. Didn't want to seem too forward. So I bade her goodnight and started to turn towards the car.
"Gary," she said in her soft voice. "A word of advice?" I turned back.
"Um, sure."
"You spend all day worrying, and in the end you decided
not
to kiss me?" She said, an eyebrow raised. "Caution is a good thing, but don't take it to excess."
And with that she stepped in close, put her arms around me, and kind of melted into me as she pressed her lips to mine. It was the softest, warmest thing I had ever felt. I was instantly hard... and instantly embarrassed.
She broke the kiss, still holding herself against me, and looked me in the eye. I could feel the heat in my cheeks as I blushed, wondering desperately if she could feel my cock pressing against my trousers.
"Wasn't so bad, was it?" She said playfully.
"Um, no, not bad at all," I said.
She smiled wider. "High praise indeed," she said. She reached up and brushed her fingers through my hair. "You know Gary, you worry far too much." And with that, she stepped back and walked away.
And that's how it was with Melissa and I. No matter how careful I was, no matter how good a front I thought I'd put up, now and again she'd say or do something to let me know that she knew just exactly what was going on in my head.
At the end of our third date, I took her back to her place as usual. I was filled with nerves; you know what people say about third dates. We hugged and kissed goodnight, this time holding one another for a long time. Eventually she broke it and smiled up at me. "You should know by now, Gary, that I don't do things just because I am expected to. Goodnight." And she went inside.
Over the coming weeks and months, I found out just how committed to that attitude Melissa was. We kissed, we cuddled, but that was as far as she would go. It was frustrating as hell, and I began to get used to leaving her at the end of the evening with a hard on pressing uncomfortably against my underwear. It was almost like she was going out of her way to drive me crazy and give me a case of blue balls.
One night she broke a kiss and sat back, looking at me. "How often do you masturbate, Gary?" She asked.
I blushed, but I was starting to get used to her directness. "Um, most days," I said hesitantly.
"Hmm," she said. "Wouldn't you say that your sexual energies should be directed towards your girlfriend?"
I grinned goofily. That was the first time she had referred to herself as that! "Well... I guess that sounds reasonable," I said finally.
"Good, then that's settled," she said happily. "No more masturbating for you. Promise?"
"I promise."
And so it was. I went home that night desperately turned on. I stripped off when I got home and lay on the bed, cock standing rock hard. I could have jerked off... she had no way of finding out. But something stopped me. I'd promised, and I am a man of my word. Besides, I had the feeling that she would know. She always seemed to know what I was thinking.
The next month was horribly, wonderfully frustrating for me. Melissa sent me home literally every night desperate, almost pleading for relief. She always had a little amused smile on her face when she did it, too. "Just think," she'd say, "when it finally does happen, imagine how wonderful it will be!"
Eventually, Melissa decided that we would be married. Said like that it sounds like it was a spur of the moment whim. In truth there was a great deal more to it. There were deep conversations and long meaningful looks and a growing sense of closeness and love... and a great deal of teasing. But in the end, I found myself standing in a registry office saying "I do", and I was now a married man.
We went to a beautiful hotel in Rome for our honeymoon. I could hardly keep my eyes off my beautiful wife all day long. She had looked amazing in her flowing white wedding dress and afterwards had changed into a breathtakingly sexy designer outfit that left me with an almost permanent hard on. I had to suggest going for an early night a good half dozen times before she finally consented.
I almost threw myself at her as soon as we got through the door. She made me slow down and back off, directing my fumbling movements as she had me undress myself. When I stood before her naked, she looked down at me and raised her eyebrows.
"My, is that all you have down there?" She asked. I blushed furiously, stunned and humiliated. Visions of my new wife walking out on me danced behind my eyes. Melissa watched me for a long moment and then smiled and stepped close. She ran her fingers through my hair, smiling. "Oh now don't pout like that," she said. "You know how much I love you, don't you?"
