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After 36 years of a truly great marriage, my wife, Jane, passed away after a lengthy battle with cancer. Needless to say I was at once grief stricken and, at the same time, glad that her long struggle was over. Four days after her death, our small town had one its largest funeral in many years, a testament to Jane’s popularity and in recognition for all the good works she had performed. Most of the attendees were a blur as they offered condolences. One of the last to approach me was Jane’s best friend, Marge. Ironically it seemed that only a short time before, Jane and I had been consoling Marge on the loss of her husband, Hank. We held each other for a brief moment, kissed each other on the cheek, and then she was gone.
Two months had gone by and I had gotten back to work and the job of keeping house for myself. On Saturday morning, as usual, I went to our supermarket to do my shopping for the week ahead. I was standing over the meat display, trying to determine which steak looked the best when I heard her voice.
“Well, hello, stranger.”
It was Marge whom I hadn’t seen or talked to since that day in the cemetery. “Hi Marge, it’s good to see you and I apologize for not calling you.”
“No apologies necessary. I know how much you’ve had to face since…well, you know.” We stood there, making small talk for a few minutes and were about to part when Marge said, “Oh, Pete, how would you like to come to my place for dinner tonight?” I thought for only a second…a chance to have a home cooked dinner that I hadn’t prepared sounded awfully good to me.
“I’d love to, Marge. What time should I come?” She smiled again, “Any time after five and I’ll let you bring the wine.” Of course I agreed and we then parted.
Marge was, at 57, two years older than Jane and the same age as me. She was a somewhat short, only an inch or two over five feet, small frame, though a little hippy, very small breasts, dark brown eyes set in a pleasant face and with snow white hair that, on her was quite attractive. She and Jane had been very close and the four of us had often gone out to dinner together. While the two women had been very close, Hank and I had very little in common, managing only to be civil to one another. He had a rather loud mouth and always had to be right. I had often wondered how Marge had put up with him for so many years.
It was about ten after five when I arrived at Marge’s, two bottles of a good merlot in hand. She greeted me at the door with a hug and kiss and welcomed me into her living room. Since Hank’s death she had redecorated with all new furniture and curtains. The room was bright and cheery. “Place looks nice, Marge. You’ve rally brightened things up,” I told her. “Well,” she said, “I just wanted to get rid of the darker stuff. Hank always liked it, said it was ‘sexy’. I just went along with him but it never seemed ‘sexy’ to me.”
Marge got out two wine glasses while I uncorked one of the bottles of merlot. I poured for the two of us and we sat in trabzon escort the living room across the room from each other and talked. During our conversation, I began to realize just how close the two women had been as bits and pieces of Jane’s and my life began to surface, personal things, sexual things that I had never discussed with any of my friends.
Jane and I had been blessed with mutually high sex drives, engaging some kind of sexual practice at least four times a week, some of it most people might consider ‘kinky’. These were some of the things Marge had eluded to in our conversation.
About half way through our third glass of wine, Marge suddenly jumped up, saying, “My goodness, I think I’d better check on our dinner. Don’t want anything to burn.” Since I am a smoker, I called out to her, saying I was going out on the front porch for a cigarette. “Don’t be foolish, Pete, you can smoke here in the house. It was Hank who was death on smoking. If you’ll wait a minute, I’ll join you.”
When she returned from the kitchen, she brought an ash tray with her and placed it on the side table next to me, then, instead of returning to the seat across from me, sat on the couch, within reach of the ash tray. “Aren’t you going to offer me a cigarette,” she asked. “But I didn’t know you smoked,” I replied, passing her one of mine. As I leaned forward to light it for her, she smiled at me and said, “You’d be surprised, I’ve picked up some very naughty habits in the past few months. Maybe I’ll tell you about them later, after dinner.”
About half an hour later, we went into the dining room to eat. Marge had prepared a delicious casserole and we opened the second bottle of wine. We made a lot of small talk during dinner and, while I was anxious to hear about her ‘naughty habits, the subject didn’t come up again. After dessert of hot apple pie, I helped clear the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher. We returned to the living room with the last of the wine and for an after dinner cigarette. This time we sat side by side on the couch.
Finally, I could hold back no longer. “Are you going to tell me about your so called, ‘naughty habits,” I asked. She was quiet for a minute, then drinking the rest of her wine in one gulp, she started. “Please don’t be mad, but Jane and I used to talk about our very private, personal lives. She often told me about how the two of you had such an enjoyable sex life, while I was telling her how my life with Hank had deteriorated to almost nothing at all, about my frustrations. Jane even bought a ‘toy’ for me. Of course, Hank never knew about it, I only used it during the day while he was at work and it did give me a lot of relief. Then, after Hank died, Jane gave me a catalog for a lot of different toys and I’ve purchased a couple more. I’ve been very ‘naughty’ with them but they’ve helped a lot.” She paused for a moment. “Can you understand? I’m just so thankful that Jane and I could talk to each other so frankly.” I wasn’t really trabzon escort bayan shocked at her admission, on several occasions after some of our most passionate nights, Jane had said, “Isn’t it too bad that not everyone can enjoy what we have?”. I had somehow guessed that it was Marge that she was referring too.
I looked at Marge, she seemed to be holding her breath, waiting for me to react, so, react I did. “You know, Marge, I haven’t been sexually active since before Jane died, and I’ve been feeling some of those frustrations too. Frankly, when you invited me to dinner tonight, I was hoping that it would be more than just dinner.” I moved closer to her and put a hand on her thigh, feeling her quiver under my touch. “Oh god, Pete,” she barely whispered, “I’ve been praying that you’d feel that way. I was hoping for more than just dinner too. I just don’t know where to start, it’s been such a long time.” I moved my hand off her thigh and put my arms around her, pulling her to me. I lowered my face to hers and we kissed, this time with passion. Our tongues met as we probed each others mouth. After a few breathless moments, she pulled away. “Oh, Pete, what do we do now?”
“Marge, my dear, why don’t we go to bed, I’m sure we’d be much more comfortable there.”
“Yes,” she said, “I really do want you to make love to me.” We got to our feet and I said to her, “You go ahead and get into be while I visit the bathroom.” She nodded in agreement as I followed her out of the living room. At the bedroom door, I again took her into my arms and kissed her, running my hands up and down her back to her hips, while she pressed her body to mine. We finally broke the kiss and she entered the bedroom. Once in the bathroom, I removed my clothing, keeping only my boxer shorts on. After a good long piss, I followed her into the bedroom.
She was already in bed, her clothing in a pile beside the bed, the bed sheet pulled up to her chin. The only illumination was a candle on the bedside table, next to her. “God, Pete, I’m so nervous,” she said softly. “I am too,” I replied. “I just hope you’re not disappointed.” I stripped off my boxers and slipped under the sheet next to her. Rolling on my side, I got one arm under her head with my hand on her shoulder. I leaned down and we kissed again and, with my free hand, I began caressing her naked body. Now her whole body was quivering under my touch. My hand strayed up over her tiny breasts to feel her nipples harden and become distended under my touch. Pushing the sheet aside, I bent my head and took the nearest into my mouth, sucking and nipping it gently.
Her breathing quickened as my hand passed over her slightly rounded belly and my fingers touched the fur of her pussy. Her hips rose up slightly and she began to moan softly. As I pressed on, her legs parted to give me greater access to her pleasure zone. With my middle finger, I traced the lips of her labia, seeking her clit. As I found the little button, it seemed to grown, escort trabzon causing her to moan louder. “Oooo, god yes, Pete, that feels so good.” Her hips rose up further, trying to press against the finger on her sensitive clit.
My prick, which had stiffened slightly, was pressing against her and when she reached down and touched it, it sprang to full erection. Now it was my turn to get that feeling of anticipation of the pleasure that lay ahead. As her fingers encircled the shaft, pulling my foreskin back from the head of my cock, I slipped my middle finger between her nether lips, finding the moisture that let me enter her love tunnel easily. Marge’s body jerked at the intrusion and her hand tightened around my cock. “Do me, Pete, I can’t wait any longer. Please, let’s do it, fuck me now.”
I rolled over onto my back, pulling her on top of me. Quickly she was on her knees, astride my hips. Holding on to my prick, she lowered herself onto me and my cock was soon engulfed in her warm cunt. As she rubbed herself back and forth, her clit pressed against my pubic bone, I reached up to pinch and twisther nipples. She bent forward over me, exerting even more pressure on her clit. She was panting hard now as she was approaching her orgasm, while I was fighting to hold back my own. Suddenly she sat straight up and I watched the muscles in her belly contract and felt her cunt convulsing on my prick. “Oh, oh, OOOH GOD,” she cried out. She sat there, rigid in the rapture of her climax. Oh god, Pete, oh god.” Her moment of ecstasy subsided after a few minutes and her breathing returned to normal again. Once more she bent over me and we kissed again.
I started thrusting my hips in an attempt to bring her to another orgasm, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to last too long myself. Furiously we fucked, both of us straining to cum, to that utopia of orgasm. My scrotum began to tighten, as though to squeeze the jism out of my balls and I could feel it beginning. I couldn’t hold back any longer. “I’m gonna cum, Marge, Yes…yesss!”
“Cum for me, Pete, fill me up, cum for me…OH GOD, I’M CUMMING, OH GOD, DON’T STOP!!!,” she hissed at me as I thrust my cock into her cunt as hard and as deep as I could, grunting unintelligibly as my jism exploded into her womb. We held fast to each other while the waves of our mutual release flooded through our bodies. Slowly, my prick began to shrink, slipping out of its warm nest and I felt the wetness of my jism seeping onto my balls.
Marge fell off me to lay on her side next to me, her arm across my chest as she nuzzled the nape of my neck. “Oh, Pete, that was so good. God, I haven’t ever felt like this. Now I know what Jane meant.” I moved onto my side to face her. “Marge, I don’t know what Jane said to you but I haven’t felt like this in a long time.”
We cuddled in our post coital bliss for several more minutes, when Marge started to giggle. “What’s so funny,” I asked. She looked at me, “You’re leaking out of me, lover. That’s something that doesn’t happen with my ‘toys’ and it feels good.” It was my turn to laugh at that, it had never occurred to me that leaking jism would feel good to anyone.
We lay there together until we both dozed off, exhausted from our exertions.
To Be Continued…
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