Loading...She had been my best friend, my companion, my wife and bar none the best lover I had ever had. We had been together for over 30 years, wonderful years, except for the last one when cancer was slowly and inexorably consuming her once marvelous body. Now she was gone.
After the funeral we gathered at her sister’s house, friends, family, business acquaintances. I smiled as best I could, was friendly and cordial as I knew she would want me to be and accepted their kind thoughts and condolences graciously. As the gathering began to ungather I was approached by my wife’s best friend, Edwina.
“Tough day, John,” she said.
“One of the worst. But I’ll survive.”
“I know you will. Life goes on.”
“Thanks for coming,” I said.
“When you feel up to it I want you to come to my house for dinner. Marge and I had some long talks during her last days and I’d like to tell you about them, when you’re ready,” she said.
“Thank you,” I replied.
For several weeks after the funeral I kept busy. My business consumed my days and I spent the evenings and weekends going through her things. Some I saved, some I sold, some I gave away and some I threw away. On a Saturday morning I was at the grocery store. They had a sale on frozen dinners and I was stocking up. Frozen dinners were now the order of the day. I felt a soft hand upon my shoulder and turned around to see Edwina standing there.
“Don’t you find those things to be a little bland and unexciting?” she said.
“Indeed. But they’re quick and filling and there’s no pots and pans to wash,” I said.
“Are you ready for a real dinner and someone to talk to while you eat?”
“As a matter of fact I am. Lou Dobbs is not my first choice for a dinner companion.”
“Good,” she said, “how about this evening?”
“Sounds good to me. What time should I come and what kind of wine should I bring?”
“How about seven and we’ll be eating Italian. Maybe some chianti.”
“Any particular brand?”
“You decide.”
We parted company and I made a detour through the wine section on my way to the checkout.
At seven o’clock I knocked on her door. She opened it, gave me a big smile and said, “Come in.”
I followed her inside. She was wearing a lightweight, loose fitting dress, belted at the waist and she was barefoot. She was taller and fuller than my late wife but still quite curvaceous for a woman in her late fifties. I caught myself admiring her figure and mentally chastised myself for so doing.
We went into her kitchen and she reached into a drawer and pulled out a corkscrew.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” she said, “open the wine while I toss the salad.”
I uncorked, she tossed and soon we were sitting at her dining room table. We had salad, spaghetti with meat sauce, crusty Italian bread and, of course, the wine. Everything was delicious.
“These are just about my favorite foods,” I said.
“I know,” she said, “Marge told me.”
“Ah yes,” I said, “you mentioned some conversations you had with her before she died. What else did she tell you?”
She smiled and said, “Let’s take our wine into the living room and talk.”
She sat on the sofa and I started to sit down in an easy chair across from her.
“Come and sit beside me, John,” she said.
I nodded my head and sat down beside her.
“How are things going?” she asked.
“Pretty well, all things considered,” I said, “but it’s hard when you lose someone you’ve loved for a long time. as you well know.”
She smiled and took my hand.
“Marge loved you very much,” she said.
“I know and I loved her.”
She paused and said, “Before she died we had long, long talks and she worried about what would happen to you after she was gone.”
“I worried about that too, although it wasn’t something we discussed. What in particular was she worried about?”
“She worried about you rushing into a bad relationship. She knew how sensual and sexual you are. She missed your intimate moments together during her last days, the decline of your sex life, your, oh you know what I’m talking about.”
“Yes, I certainly do, and?”
“She asked me to look after you for a while, to, uh, take care of you, so you wouldn’t make any dumb decisions.”
“Would you define ‘care’ to me?”
“I think you know what I mean,” she said.
“I’m, I’m speechless,” I said, “and for me that’s pretty unusual.”
“Well then, John, why don’t you use your mouth for other things,” she said and leaned toward me for a long wet kiss. After a bit of tongue play I pulled my mouth back from hers and said, “Are you sure you really want to do this? I certainly don’t want you to make love to me out of any sense of duty or obligation.”
She smiled and said, “Don’t be silly. I’ve always thought you were a very attractive man and I guess Marge sensed that or she wouldn’t have proposed this. Are you surprised that she asked me to take on this assignment?”
“Not really, I guess. Marge always was a bit out of the mainstream. That was one of the things I loved the most about her.”
“Then don’t worry about it. I want you. I want you very much. I’ve been too long without a man in my arms and in my bed.”
“How about in your pussy?”
“That too,” she laughed.
We stood up and I followed her to her bedroom. She lit some candles, turned out the lights and turned on some soft music. We started to undress and I said, “Suppose I had said no.”
“Than your sweet ex-wife would be turning over in her grave and i’d be turning red with embarrassment.”
“It appears she told you a lot about me.”
“She told me how you like to make love and be made love to.”
“And?”
“Fits my wishes perfectly.”
“Would you make a loud noise,” I asked.
“Whatever in the world for?”
“Just to make sure I’m not dreaming all of this.”
“You’re not dreaming, John. This is real, I’m real, all of me is real.” And with that she displayed her now naked body to me. She was as voluptuous as I had imagined. Her breasts appeared to be about a 38 D, although I’m no expert on exact breast sizes. Suffice to say that they were large, round and slightly hanging down and capped with large nard nipples. Lower down a thatch of thick black hair covered her pussy. She was large, rubenesque and incredibly sexy looking.
“What do you think?” she asked. Then she laughed, gestured at my erect cock and said, “I guess you approve.”
She took the inevitable pillows off the bed – what is it with women and decorative pillows on their beds? – and stacked them neatly in the corner – then she laid down, making ample room for me and said, “Welcome to my garden of earthly delights.”
“Such a garden, and such earthly delights,” I said, “What kind of fertilizer do you use?”
“A little red wine and a naked body seems to do the trick. You’ve grown rather nicely.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I said.
“Then come on, John, and show me where you want me to go.”
“I scarcely know where to begin.”
“I have it on good authority that you’re a consummate pussy eater. Why don’t you start there.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
I knelt beside the bed, pulled her toward me, draped her legs over my shoulders and began to dine. I trailed kissed up one leg and then the other, finally arriving at the garden entrance. I took a tentative lick and was rewarded with the musky taste of her and the added taste of peppermint.
“What’s this?”
“I thought a little peppermint douche would add some tang to the taste.”
“Well it wasn’t necessary but thank you anyway.”
“I’m glad you approve,” she said.
“Yummy, yummy,” I said and proceeded to lick her fervently.
She moaned as I explored her pussy with my tongue and she groaned as I plunged first one and then two fingers inside her. She was wet and willing and oh so tasty. My tongue moved up and found her clitoris, perhaps the largest clit I had ever encountered. I lapped, sucked and nibbled and she responded by pulling my face even closer to her.
“Oh yes baby, eat me, eat me, suck me and fuck me,” she said.
I laughed and said, “One thing at a time, if you don’t mind. I can’t do both at once.”
“Oh shoot,” she said.
“However, I can alternate,” I said and I stood up and plunged my cock inside of her wet and welcoming receptacle. I drove in and out and she reached down to rub her clit while I fucked her. I could feel the walls of her pussy contracting around my cock almost to the point of forcing me over the edge so I stopped, pulled out my penis and dropped to my knees once again.
She moaned as I withdrew but welcomed my eager sucking, licking and lapping at her tunnel of love.
“Oh baby you are good, as good as advertised,” she cried.
“Thank you,” I said, “it’s a labor of love. I enjoy this about as much as you do.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said, “I certainly enjoy your enjoyment.”
“Then it’s a truly symbiotic relationship. Of course I’ll expect something in return.”
“And what would that be, kind sir?”
“Some sucking and stroking and even some fucking, if I’m up to it.”
“That’s three things,” she said.
“Well, not all at the same time.”
“Then you’re proposing multiple meetings?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“It sounds like you’re going to be a busy boy so you’d better get back to work.” she said.
“Exactly.”
I stopped talking and put my mouth and tongue to better use and also brought my fingers back into the game. I hummed and strummed, nibbled and licked, prodded and probed stroked and pinched, licked and lapped and, erelong, brought her to a crashing climax. She shuddered, shook and shouted and then she calmed down and said in a soft voice, “Thank you, John.”
“You’re welcome,” I said.
I stretched out beside her on the bed and after she had regained her composure she said, “Now it’s my turn.”
“Seems only fair,” I said.
“Well, I hope it’s much better than fair.”
“I’m sure it will be tremendous.”
She kissed me and trailed her fingers down my chest, across my belly and grasped my cock in her hand. By this time I was creating a copious amount of pre-cum. She captured it and stroked my cock lovingly.
“God that feels good,” I said.
“It feels good to me too,” she said, “it’s been a long time, too long, since I held a hard cock in my hand.”
“Well you certainly haven’t forgotten how to stroke one,” I said.
She laughed and continued to jack me off. With her other hand she began to fondle my balls, rolling them around lovingly.
“I want to put you in my mouth,” she said.
“Be my guest, by all means.”
She moved around, re-positioning herself between my legs and moved her sweet face over my cock. Leaning forward she began to lick the tip, all the while continuing to stroke my throbbing tool. Then she took me full inside her mouth and gave me a vigorous suck.
I moaned and she stopped momentarily and said, “You taste divine.”
“And you’re a divine taster,” I said.
“I want to make you cum,” she said.
“Well come on then.”
She needed no further encouragement. She stroked, sucked and fondled and soon I erupted inside her mouth. She swallowed every drop and then she said “How soon can we do this again?”
“How about tomorrow night.”
“Sounds good to me.”