Hopelessly hoping Stories

She comes to me deep in the night, so late, so dark that I can't see, but can only remember what she felt like. Her figure comes to my room, quiet as a whisper and just as sweet, with scents of lilac and mint. With the slightest touch, her deft fingers find the way to my arousal, working their way around my tumescence and bringing me the hardness I need to complete your task. Mounting my body, you find my manhood rusted f...