Melony’s Malady

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Their first encounter was brief, but electric. It was a meeting to spawn a lifetime of memories. Melony had stopped at the local supermarket to make a few purchases before heading home after a very long day at work. Impossible customers, difficult bosses. She’d had about enough and just needed to put her feet up, chill for an hour and drink a lot of something. She knew that wouldn’t happen. Kids and an overbearing husband awaited her return, demanding attention. As it had been for a very long time now. As, it seemed, it had always been.

A furtive glance across the checkout aisle and there he was. In her mind, an absolute Adonis. Strong facial features, square jaw, eyes set wide across the span of a broad forehead. And a wicked grin. What he was smiling about she had no idea but allowing her eyes to scan down his lithe, athletic body it was apparent to anyone who cared to look that he fully filled the front of his tight jeans with his manhood. She fancied she could guess his name. Peter! Or, was it perhaps Michael?

Out in the parking lot fate too had a hand in promoting their chance encounter. Bending to unlock her car door the grocery bag she carried gave way, spilling its contents to the pavement. Before she could react, he was standing by her side.

“Can I help?” he asked. Straightening up, her eyes followed a reverse scan from his knees, passed his hips (faltering only for a brief instant) then sweeping up along his broad chest and shoulders, finally coming to rest at his neckline.

‘Damn’, she thought, ‘he’s gotta be six-five at least.’ Then she saw the gold necklace he wore with a name tag — Peter.

“Thanks. I’ve got it” she replied even as she was thinking ‘Why? Why did you say that? Fool.’ He smiled broadly and turned to leave.

“But I wouldn’t mind if you could open the door for me,” she blurted out impulsively. He took another step, then hesitated.

‘Turn around, Peter. Turn around,’ she pleaded in her mind. He did.

“Of course,” is all he said in a lilting, foreign accent. As he reached for the door handle, she admired the muscular forearms and the smell of his aftershave. She wished, now, that she’d worn one of her low cut blouses! Her name wasn’t Melony for no reason!

With the groceries safely stowed in the back of the car she turned to thank him, blushing as he took her hand firmly in his, squeezed gently and looked deep into her eyes. The eyes are indeed the window to the soul. And he liked what he saw.

“No need for thanks,” he said quickly. “Peter’s the name. Glad I was here to help.” The handshake went on for a moment too long. She could feel his animal magnetism and her pulse began to race. She felt like such a schoolgirl and was sure he picked up on her nervousness and curiosity. Melony took her hand back.

“Look,” he said suddenly. “This is not how a man expresses an interest in a beautiful woman. Not in this culture, anyway. Back in my home country, I could do this and be forgiven. But I was wondering. Could I have your cell number? Perhaps we can meet again, under more favourable circumstances?”

“No” replied Melony, a little too quickly. “I mean, I don’t … I wouldn’t… you know, normally give out my phone number. Besides, I’m married.”

“I saw your ring” said Peter. “But that doesn’t always mean “no”… does it?”

“Perhaps not. I guess not,” she stammered. After an awkward pause: “I don’t suppose you’re interested in buying a house, are you?”

“Why?” responded Peter.

“Well, I’m in the real estate business. If you were interested I could give you my card. That would be alright, wouldn’t it?” she asked.

Melony passed over her credentials, blushed again, and got into the car. She was relieved that the engine fired up immediately, a little unusual in itself. She felt she needed to get away…now. She had crossed a line she never thought possible in her 20 years of marriage. She could still make sure nothing ever came of it. But, then, why did she give him the card?

She had difficulty sleeping that night. Peter was on her mind and every time she dozed off, she would come awake with a start. Had she really spoken with him? Was he there in the parking lot with her? If she went back tomorrow, would he be there again? Should she wear something sexier and swing by, just on the off-chance?

Dawn broke too early but it wasn’t the light that woke her. It was her cell buzzing. Fortunately her husband continued to snore on as he was always enclined to do. ‘No virile stud this one’, she thought. ‘No imagination. No creativity. Insensitive to her needs. Just a plain bore.’ It had been a very long time since he had excited her in bed.

Should she answer the phone? Could it be Peter? Impossible. ‘Lord, what an imagination you have’ she thought to herself. Melony turned softly, preparing to wake fully to the morning at a more respectable hour.

She glanced at the clock on the dresser beside her. It was 5:32 a.m. She could get an hour’s sleep before she had to leave for the long commute bahis firmaları to work. Thinking of her day ahead caused her to shudder at the depressing thought.

Melony lay looking at the ceiling, thinking about her life and how different it had turned out to be from her hopes and dreams as a young socialite.

She had never been what you might call a closet girl. She had been around and enjoyed herself and even remembered with fondness the first few years of married life. ‘What went wrong,’ she wondered? ‘How did I lose my way? I’m still the same person, with the same ambitions and desires. Did I really have to give it all up for this? Ah, dreams of the everyday housewife…’

Except she had a career. She had always hoped that her work outside the home would bring with it at least some excitement, some outlet for her imagination and frustration through meeting other people and accomplishing goals.

And, then, the cell went again. This time, more fully awake and not a little annoyed, she decided to answer. “Hello”, she whispered into the phone.

“Hi” came the reply. “It’s Peter. Did I wake you?”

She pulled the covers aside and placed her feet on the floor next to the bed. Slowly, she stood up and walked towards the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind her.

“Hello?” came Peter’s voice again. “Are you there?”

“Yes”, replied Melony, “I’m here. What are you doing, Peter? Why are you calling? And at this hour?”

“Forgive me,” he said in his deep, husky voice. “I thought I’d call early to ask you something.”

“And what’s that?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to go camping with me.”

“Camping!” exclaimed Melony, a little too loud, startled by the invitation which could not have been less anticipated. “Camping?” she repeated. “How on earth…camping? I don’t get it. You want me, a married woman, to go camping with you? You must be out of your mind! And how do you suppose I could swing that?”

“Good”, said Peter. “You didn’t say ‘no’. You won’t regret it.”

“I didn’t say ‘yes’ either,” interrupted Melony. “It’s just impossible. Even if I wanted to. Which I’m not sure I do.”

“Yes you do” interjected Peter. “You know you do. I’ve been thinking about you all night. I haven’t slept a wink. And, if I guess right, neither have you.”

“Maybe I slept well! Maybe not,” demured Melony. “Camping. When?”

“Today,” he said.

” I think you’re a little crazy.”

“That’s the second time you’ve suggested I’m nuts. It could well be,” replied Peter. “Look, don’t think too long about it. You’ll only find reasons not to go. Just tell your husband you’ve been called out of town for a couple of days. Can you do that?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Peter. I told you, it can’t work. There’s no way I could pull that off. What if I don’t show up at the office and they call home to find out why I’m not there to keep my appointments today?”

“Two days,” said Peter.

“What two days?” asked Melony.

“It’s not today. It’s two days.”

“You’re crazier than you think… than I thought,” said Melony.

“My car is packed with everything we’ll need. I’ll be at the park across the road from you offices by the time you get to work. You can’t miss me. I have a canary-yellow VW Beetle. It’s the latest model built in Mexico. It even has cup warmers. Your coffee will be waiting.” And with that the line went dead.

Melony was so caught off-guard that she looked at the cell clutched in her hand in disbelief, as if to query whether it had malfunctioned. As she went over in her mind the conversation with Peter, she found herself repeating the same words over and over again… ‘camping! Incredulous! Crazy! He’s nuts. Still,…’

She began to imagine what it would be like. Two days with a handsome stranger who, undoubtedly, meant to get into her pants or under her dress or whatever items of clothing she would be wearing.

‘Fuck it’, she thought, impressed with her decisiveness and not a little in awe of her expressive language. ‘Where did that come from,’ she wondered? ‘I’m going to do it. I’ll leave a note at home about going out of town on business, and call in at the office to say I’ll be gone for a couple of days on a family matter. That should do it. Wonder what Peter sees in me?’

As she looked in the mirror at her almost naked body (she rarely wore anything to bed) she decided she wasn’t at all lacking in confidence about her appearance. Yes, she was in her late 30’s but her breasts were large and firm. She still showed a waistline, slim hips and a flat tummy, even after two children. She could afford to lose a few pounds but she liked being a bit well-rounded.

She lifted her hands to her bossom and tweaked the nipples. They responded immediately and stood out, capping the perkiness of her breasts. She became aware of the wetness between her thighs and knew if was because of Peter.

Slowly she traced her right hand down her side, across her tummy and onto her love mound, shaven as always. Deliberately kaçak iddaa she began to play with herself, looking for that special spot that never failed to excite her.

In concert with the thoughts in her mind and her runaway imagination, her hand moved in a firm but loving rhythm and before long she was more vigorous in her attention, placing one leg on the toilet set and observing her open thighs in the floor-to-ceiling mirror before her.

She imagined Peter’s hands where her’s were. Strong, yet gentle and urgent. His voice whispering in her ear, asking for direction and encouraging her to let her emotions and spirit fly to that wondrous place where the mind and body complete the journey together in ecstasy, in a moment of true euphoria.

Her verbal expressions of delight, while muted, betrayed her excitement and she worried about being heard in the bedroom. As she confirmed in her own mind her decision to be with Peter that day, her climax was unlike any she had ever had before. There was no longer any doubt that the day would be much different from the one she imagined only a half-hour before. Yes, very different.

The yellow VW was parked where he said it would be, a small trailer hitched to the back and apparently loaded with camping gear. Melony had dressed carefully in clothes that were practical, yet which accentuated her physical attributes.

Peter was leaning casually against the hood as she walked towards him. “Hi,” he said rather too casually considering they were still practically strangers. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint. Ready to go?”

“Where to?” she asked.

“Camping, of course,” he replied.

Melony looked up at him with that quizzical, playful expression she was known for: “I know that! But which campground?”

“It’s a small, private park I know about 45 minutes north of here,” explained Peter. “C’mon, hop in.”

‘You’ve got to admire his confidence’ thought Melony as she slipped into the vehicle and allowed him to close the door. ‘And mine. What am I doing? I hardly know this man!’ Yet her instincts told her there was no danger, only the promise of a truly exciting experience.

To cover moments of awkward silence they made the drive to the park relying on small talk about the beauty of the countryside, the weather and a plethora of other unimportant things as though they had been friends for years.

As she became more comfortable in his company, Melony allowed herself a brief glance once in a while at his powerful thighs as he worked the pedals. She had never learned to drive standard, though it was something she always thought she should know.

His denim shorts were tight on the crutch and cut off rather high on the thigh, contrary to the fashion these days. He was aware of her furtive glances, of course, and wallowed in the attention.

Arriving mid-morning they found the park full, with the exception of one remaining spot along a pathway leading directly to the public washrooms. “This will have to do,” said Peter. “I hope you didn’t want anything too secluded. Besides, at least we know where the ablution block is if we have to get up in the middle of the night,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Two hours later the campsite was set up, including a roomy four-sleeper and a large eating tent with tables and chairs, all the necessary cooking gear and to her delight, a fine selection of wines and coolers, the latter already on ice.

As the day unfolded and they spent time to get to know a bit about each other it quickly became apparent that they shared a good sense of humor, bordering on the cynical and playful, and wide ranging interests on just about any topic of conversation.

With each passing hour Melony found herself drawn deeper and deeper into this man. She cherished every moment of their playful interaction, their walk about the park, the BBQ lunch and drinks and all the while their subtle yet overt flirting. She also enjoyed his compliments not a few of which expressed his admiration for her mind and, thankfully, also her body.

As evening approached they were seated in the eating tent sipping an exquisite Beaujolais, his favourite micro-brewery wine. “It’s getting dark very early don’t you think?” observed Melony, working on her third glass of the nectar of the Gods.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure there’s a system moving in” replied Peter.

Some minutes later the sky opened as rolls of thunder seemed to blanket the area sounding for all the world like a hundred horse-drawn chariots racing along a boardwalk.

Peter looked at Melony, inclined his head towards the exit of the tent and winked. “Let’s play,” is all he said.

Swiftly he pulled his T-shirt over his head, removed the garment with a flourish and reaching for her hand, led her out into the warm and embracing rain.

Melony had taken off her bra earlier in the day and she knew her thin, button-through white blouse would very quickly reveal all the magnificence of her breasts as though she were wearing only kaçak bahis saran wrap over her upper body. Exhilarated, she laughed excitedly as he held both her hands and they twirled and spiraled into what could only be called a primitive love dance.

Soon they were holding each other in a close embrace and that’s when he kissed her for the first time. She had hoped for more passion. His lips barely brushed her’s before he pulled away, grinning broadly.

“What was that?” she asked.

“You didn’t like?” he enquired.

“What was to like,” replied Melony. “I mean, I was kinda expecting a little more from it, that’s all.”

“My fault,” offered Peter. “I was being polite. I’d hate to come across as too pushy. Here, let’s try again.”

With that he bent down to kiss her again, only this time she could feel his passion and urgency, his tongue exploring her mouth deliberately. She could taste excitement on his breath and was all too aware of his thighs pressing hard against her.

She wanted desperately to reach down and relieve his cock from the confines of his tight shorts, and then to taste him. Their desire for each other was now undeniable and she was breathless in anticipation of their love-making.

Gently, he led her to the sleeping tent. Together they lay down on the air mattress, their eyes locked as they stretched out beside each other.

She could feel a light breeze playing over them so that being cooled in this way and by the rain, her dark nipples stood fully erect, pressing tightly against the confines of the still wet, now completely see-through blouse. She reached for his hand and placed it on her chest, mouthing the words: “Go, explore. I want you to know every part of me.”

He began to unbutton the blouse and after the third button, exposed her neck and the curve of her shoulder. Unable and unwilling to resist, she allowed him to kiss her lovingly there, lingering so that his hot breath and enquiring tongue drew and erased patterns of his presence on her skin.

She moaned quietly and stretched her neck to give him unfettered access. Already she knew she was beyond the point of no return. She was going to give herself utterly and completely to Peter and she couldn’t be happier.

Sensing her permission Peter left the blouse only partially open and sat up, wriggling into position to enable him to reach across her hip, undo her belt and pull down the zipper.

‘He’s nervous’, she thought. ‘Or excited. Or both. I hope both.’ She lifted her hips slightly to help him pull her pants down over her silky white thighs.

“Here, let me help,” she offered and sat up to assist him as he rolled the leggings over her calves and feet one at a time, slowly and deliberately.

She became a little self-conscious when she allowed herself the thought that she was sitting before him now with only her panties on and half done up blouse. Even more so when she glanced down to realize it was not her sexual arousal alone that had made the panties wet, but the rain-soaked thin lacy fabric was clinging to her every curve, leaving little to Peter’s imagination as to how she looked between her thighs. She needed to see him now, and she told him so.

Peter stood up, tall and muscular as he began undoing his own belt in turn and then stepping out of the tight shorts.

What she saw then literally took her breath away. He wore non-descript briefs that fully accentuated his heavy manhood. As he raised his hands to pull down his underwear she could see his member moving behind the fabric, rising to the occasion.

Melony could no longer restrain herself. She removed her panties quickly and reached to put her hands on his, to help in the act of fully undressing him. The briefs moved down over his thighs, freeing his cock to swing up and out at her. He was slightly above average in length, she thought, but the shaft was thick and ribbed. The uncircumcised head was full and bulbous, the eye already leaking pre-cum which had also soaked the front of his briefs.

“Do you like to talk dirty,” she breathed heavily. “Talk dirty to me, Peter. Please.”

“I need you to suck my cock, baby,” he replied. “I need it really bad. Put your mouth on my cock.”

Melony did as she was asked. Folding the skin back to the fullest extent she played the tip of her tongue over the moist head, flicking rapidly over the eye before probing the slit deeply.

He was groaning in pleasure now, she could hear. She drew the shaft deeper into her mouth, all the way to the back of her throat, sucking gently and releasing as she did so, then harder using her hand to apply alternating short and long strokes.

He thrust his hips forward, wanting to penetrate her throat as he would have her vagina. Again he thrust, and again. She gagged slightly, her spit helping to further lubricate the shaft as it moved rhythmically in and out. “Fuck Melony. Shit you’re good. Oh God, that feels so good” he murmured.

Peter held the back of her head and pressed her face ever harder against his balls which moved in unison with him. She could feel them against her lips and chin. He smelled divine and all Melony could do with her senses awry was to think about bringing Peter to his first climax.

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