An Evening With Roger Villhaine

I must admit I was surprised to see this young man at my door in the pouring rain. Needless to say he was soaked to the bone so when when he asked if he could come in of course I said yes. A quick change of clothes (a set my son had left when he went to pursue his studies), a brush through his thick brown hair and a cup of hot tea and he was right as...well, rain I suppose if you'll excuse the pun.
For a boy his age...I suppose he was no less than 18, he was surprisingly well spoken and polite. His eloquent speech was humbling, almost seductive and his grand, sweeping movements as he spoke as if on a stage in front of thousands were quite impressive. I felt like a commoner in this young man's presence. He was perhaps five foot, eight inches, no more than one hundred and twenty pounds with a svelte but powerful looking build. No doubt he was from a wealthy family but when I asked him about them he was quick to change the subject.
The boy, I believe he said his name was Roger, told me he had just arrived in our fair country by boat from the far land of Transylvania and that he was ultimately headed for America. He had hoped that the young country would grant him a fresh start. I asked him why not stay here? If he helped around the house he could no doubt stay for at least a little while but he politely declined, much to my disappointment. Something about him made me feel...different. Alive. A sort of energy surrounded him that made me feel things I hadn't felt since my husband was alive. But such thoughts were terrible of course- I was old enough to be this boy's mother!
Lecherous feelings aside I truly felt sorry for the boy. So far away from home it made me miss my own son even more. So when he thanked me for the hospitality and got up to leave I practically begged him to stay for the night. He paused at the door, as if weighing his options before turning to face me with those warm green eyes and thanking me. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest as I set up the guest room for him and he thanked me once more before closing the door in front of me.
...I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to stop him from leaving me on the other side of that door. To throw the door open and push him onto that bed...
But late at night I heard soft footsteps outside of my door. 'Perhaps Roger is searching for the wash room' I thought to myself. But when he slowly opened the door my pulse quickened. He stood in the doorway, looking around my room with the curiosity of a child before resting his gaze on me.
"I wish to thank you for your hospitality." He said, in that silky voice that made me melt. He slowly walked to my bed, each footstep making my heart beat faster and faster before he sat next to me and I thought I would burst with desire.
He leaned in close, never breaking eye contact as he softly touched his lips against mine once...twice...after the third kiss he slowly positioned himself on top of me and kissed me a fourth time. I shivered with each kiss and moaned as he licked from the base of my neck to my jaw ever so slowly. I begged him for more and got a low chuckle in response before he unbuttoned my nightgown, revealing my pale skin to the moonlight. He kissed my chest repeatedly, those soft kisses driving me mad. Then he lightly licked my breasts and I moaned with so much pleasure.
He removed the night shirt my husband once wore and I found myself wishing I had this young man all those years instead of him as I gazed at his well built physique. My husband never was much of a lover and this hot blooded youth savoring my body was so welcomed so...right...he nipped at my breasts and then at my neck, his teeth dragging along its length as he took off his pants and better positioned himself on top of me.
I screamed in ecstasy as he entered me, years of loneliness making the pleasure that much greater with each slow thrust. I arched my back, desperate for more but he refused to go any deeper and I begged him to continue. He nipped at my ear, his warm breath making me moan yet again and I grabbed his behind, forcing him further inside of me.
As he moved in and out of me, each time faster and harder than the last he licked my neck once more and I shivered with delight as his softly bit into it. The pleasure was so great as he lapped at the blood trickling from the wound. I screamed as I came and just like that he was gone, our clothes still strewn about the bed and my breath coming in ragged gasps. I touched a finger to my neck and was surprised to feel no wound.
Perhaps it was all a dream...a very lucid dream...but a dream nonetheless.