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His Little Forbidden Fruit

His Little Forbidden Fruit

This is a true story that I was asked to write about a couple struggling to hold it together.

I am so frustrated with you and your lack of caring for me. So, I am going to write a farewell letter to my fake ass secret lover.

Before I write the letter and send it to you, I want to try and remember why I am with you, to begin with, and why I should stay. It will help me decide if I am going to send it or not. As a Social Psychiatrist, I should know better than to allow myself to get into this situation.

One of my favorite times ever spent with you was when we were coming back from a conference together and stopped at a restaurant in the Blue Ridge Mountains called Frog Leap in Waynesville, NC. It is a farm fresh to table type restaurant, so the atmosphere was very rustic but extremely classy. You were such a gentleman. You pulled my chair out for me. I ordered steak, and you ordered crab cakes. It was lovely just talking about life. I would say that’s when I fell in love with you.

We ate and left. We took the parkway home. We got out at every pullover to view the mountains, and at one spot we just stood to hold each other, looking out at Mother Earth and all her beauty. I’ll never forget that I told you, your age doesn’t matter. Then we walked around a bend and saw a couple, a young lady and an older man, and I said: “See, the only person who cares is you.”

Another favorite time is when we have our debates about if there's a higher power, or when I tell you I’m a Warrior Goddess. You can’t handle that. The times when we sip coffee and tea together because I’m a tea drinker and I caught you staring at me. I ask you, “What?”

You said, “Nothing,” and we giggle.

Oh, and when I took you out for your birthday to the lobster trap. That was amazing. Then you took me out for my birthday. We went to Buxton's Hall, a BBQ place. It was beautiful but difficult to hear because it was loud.

We go to the movies a lot. Last weekend I was hanging out with my girlfriends, and I did a double film. I saw one of them with my lady friends and one with you. When I came out of the theater with the ladies, you were standing there with my ticket and popcorn. You looked like a high school boy on his first date. I waved at you and told my friends good night. I hung out with you the rest of the night.

This year I’m putting on a party for you. It will be interesting because I’ll meet your friends. I have been your secret lover, but I noticed you’re getting a little bolder on Facebook and MeWe. Interesting.

We love each other, but we can’t have each other.


Dear Stephen,

You and I met through a mutual friend. We are no longer friends with him, but you and I have kept in touch. I had a birthday party two years ago, and you came to it. At the party, I tried to introduce you to some of my single friends to maybe date. They both said no. I didn’t understand why at the time. I had another friend named Carol Anne that hung out with you because you had met on POF. I always thought you were together, but no she was just madly in love with you. Because of her, I learned what not to say to you by watching her actions. Eventually, you two had a falling out which left just us.

I liked hanging out at your house and talking to you about all kinds of things. We had great conversations about politics and our hobbies. You always asked me to spend the night, but I never did, because I didn’t know you that well yet. Then one night you asked me again, and this time I did. I was in the guest room and couldn’t sleep, so you let me sleep in the bed with you. We slept on the edges. Never touched each other all night. Not touching each other, went on each time for quite a while until you finally told me it made you uncomfortable, so we stopped.

Then you invited me to stay the weekend because we had a conference to attend. I purposely brought sexy PJs to drive you mad. Since you have a pool, I bought a super sexy swimsuit to wear. The first thing you said when you saw me in it, “Nice boobs.”

I played like I didn’t hear you. You came up behind me and was trying to touch my boobs. We swam from one side to the other until cornered and you pressed up against me. I knew tonight was the night, but we never did anything. I was so sexually frustrated I left the conference early. I had my friend come to pick me up.

A few months later I came over with some friends to smoke a little and have some drinks. Right when we were leaving, you asked me if I was going to stay. I said, “Sure.”

I was laying on the couch when you asked me to get in the bed. I wasn’t sure about it, but said, “Ok.”

You were so cuddly and loving but never touched me sexually. I was so mad about it. But the next morning you asked me if you could feel my butt. I agreed, and soon your hand started to creep up my leg. Then up my body to my boobs. I was quiet, and you asked me if I was okay with what you were doing. I told you, you better finish whatever you are trying to start. We had sex. The position was sideways; it was weird and awkward like two high school kids trying not to get caught.

The feel of your dick sliding in and out of my pussy was amazing. You started out slow and methodical, but soon was ramming fast and hard. You had your hand between my legs playing with my clit and driving me insane. I couldn’t help crying out loud with each orgasm. I couldn’t believe how long you’re were lasting and how big and hard your dick was inside me. You were nibbling at my earlobe and tweaking my clit until I couldn’t take it anymore. I screamed louder than I have ever done before. I soaked you and the bed in my juices, but you kept going. One orgasm after another rolled through my body. I was shaking and bucking back against your hand and hips. Finally, I felt you get even bigger inside me and thrust hard against my pelvis. You unloaded what felt like a gallon of cum deep inside me. I clamped down hard with my legs and grabbed your hand trying to stop the assault to my clit. You grunted loudly in my ear and went motionless. I continued to convulse and soak everything in my juices for several minutes. We laid there holding each other the rest of the night.

The next morning you made me breakfast, and we talked about the sex and decided to be friends with benefits and try not to be weird about it. Well, it got strange quick, and you apologized and said we shouldn’t have done that. We had a falling out again and didn’t speak for three weeks. We unfriended each other on Facebook. You blocked my number, and the only way you would communicate with me was through email.

We are in local politics together, so we had to see each other. We had a meeting at a friend’s house, and you would not even look at me. I purposely wore something super sexy to make you mad. I got an email the next morning asking me to go to lunch after our meeting Saturday morning. We talked for four hours and decided we missed each other and we weren’t going to have sex anymore.

Two weeks later I spent the night and went to the guest bedroom, and you asked why I was sleeping in there. You told me to come to our bed. I did. When you turned off the lights, you said you had a gift for me. You pulled out a cock ring that lit up purple.

I said, “I thought we weren’t doing that anymore.”

You said, “We don’t have too, but I would like too.”

I pulled off my panties, and you fucked me hard. It was fucking amazing! We fucked in the missionary position this time. I was happy for that because it allowed me to see the purple ring going back and forth. It reminded me of those days in the clubs where the psychedelic lights are swirling all around. The purple light lit up the room and your face. It was so cool and just thinking about it, makes me so horny.

Once again, we had a falling out because I wanted more. I needed more. As in more sex. We didn’t have sex for a month. We argued, and you dropped me like a hot potato. I called you out for it. I told you, “I’m not a hoe, and I am not going to sleep with you again. Because I don’t have a sexual relationship unless we are together.”

You told me, “Elizabeth, you have been a shitty lover, and it won’t happen again.”

“Yeah right,” I thought to myself.

The last time we got high together, OMG! We were already on a different level, and all I remember is sucking the hell out of your dick while you were fingering me. I have never had that done to me like that before, and it felt so good. You were using your fingers on my clit, and your thumb was rubbing my asshole. You took my clit between your fingertips, squeezed and rolled it. Using one of your fingers to play with the tip. You also slowly inserted your thumb tip in my asshole. It slid in with no problem from all of the juices soaking your hand. Moving your thumb tip in and out until you had it buried knuckle deep and then to the base near the palm. You were fucking my asshole with your whole thumb now and still squeezing and rolling my clit. When you released my clit and replaced your fingers with your palm, I thought I would die. You inserted your fingers, all four of them in my vagina and started fucking it in rhythm to your thumb.

When it was time for sex, you asked me if I wanted a condom. I told you, it was up to you. You bent me over and fucked me from behind. You told me you loved the way I moaned when you go deep inside me. Which made me want more. I was so high and horny, and you were fucking me hard. It was amazing. You make me orgasm every time and even multiple times.

But once again we fell out because I wanted a relationship and you didn’t. You say you don’t want to be a burden on me. I think it’s because of my age and my race. Oh, and it kills you for me to go on vacation. We call each other more than we do when I'm in town. I’m on vacation right now in Fl, and you call at least two to three times a day.

I told you last night I promise your dirty little secret won’t get out. You got quiet and then said whatever. Maybe this is the reason why it would never work. You still deal with your ex-girlfriend even though you say you’re not together. Which I believe you, it’s just that she has your balls and you like it. That is just my perspective. You also have this pattern of when you’re dating other women or getting to know her; you get in a fight with me. I’m like your back up plan. It’s fucking ridiculous. But enough is enough.

We are thirty years apart. I’m thirty-six and black, and you are sixty-five and white. I love you to death. I tell you I love you as Bonnie and Clyde loved. You say you love me too, but you have a weird way of showing it.

It will never work because you are scared, so therefore I need to move on.

Love always,

His Little Forbidden Fruit



Being a professor at a local college should make you smarter. But when it comes to love, you are dumb. You have had so many young girls over the years, throw themselves at you in hopes of getting better grades, had affairs with staff members and wives of staff, slept with mothers of students and even a few wealthy grandmothers, but you still can’t figure out what women want.

I have told you many times that I don’t care about our age difference or race issues. I don’t see you as an old man or a white guy. You are just Stephen to me. I love you for who you are when we are intimate with each other. I love you for who we are when no-one else is around. I want the whole world to see that person in you. I want the world to see us being happy with each other and enjoying each others company.

I wrote the letter to make myself feel better about breaking up with you for good. But, the more I wrote, the more I realized what a mistake it would be. You are a hard person to love, but I love you anyway. I can not send the letter to you. I can not bring myself to break it off with you. I have to stick it out and see where we can take this relationship. I hope I can convince you to relax and enjoy being with me and only me.

When you are not around me, my life is terrible. I feel so sad all the time and want you there to hold me. All I can think about when I listen to my patients complaining about their love life’s is you. I hear them saying how their husbands are mean to them and treat them bad. I hear them say they never get to go anywhere or do anything. I think about us and how many trips we have taken in the last two years. I think about all those breakfasts you have cooked for me or how many times you held me tight while watching a movie. I think about playing around in the pool like a couple of little kids. Then I guess, my life with you isn’t all that bad.

I guess I have decided that being with you even part-time is better than none at all. I love you. I am ok with being His Little Forbidden Fruit for now.




This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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