Morgan's nails dug into his back, and he sped up the pace ever so slightly. Morgan responded with a breathy gasp, and she pulled him tighter against her, their bodies rubbing each each other with every movement.
Melvin forced his eyes to stay open, watching Morgan with an intensity that was unlike him. A week ago, there wouldn't have been anything in his life that Melvin would have met with an expression of intensity. But he wanted to see the expression on her face when he made her climax, wanted to see the ecstasy that he had given her sketched across her face. If only Abby could see him now.
Abby. And what would become of her? The last time he might ever see her would be in that alley behind the club, her face milky with cum, her hair and clothes soaked through by that bucket of dirty rainwater that had been thrown on her as she waited limp on the ground. A pang of regret stole over him but then vanished as did any other thought of Abigail. Morgan was the only one who counted now.
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"Oh, Mel baby. Oh yeah," she uttered and tensed under him. This was it, and Melvin knew it.
She gasped, and her face furrowed in concentration, and then it was over. Her dark blue eyes flew open and locked onto his, and Melvin met her in orgasm.
And this is where we'll leave Melvin for now, his mind and body finally satisfied, his world spinning on an axis that finally seems at balance: a privileged life befitting such a decent and unassuming man. In his future lies a landscape of mystery and adventure, the kind of life that only a man who loves a witch might know... and we're not talking about that silly Bewitched crap either.
In any case, let us allow Melvin this brief moment of privacy, that he might experience this next step in life in relative peace and quiet, and who knows, perhaps we may pick up his story another day.
But until then, let us believe that he lived happily ever after.