All in… Ch. 08


“It’s beginning to rain, honey..c’mon, come with me…out of the rain, back to the car,” the voice was saying, the words, a blend of white noise inside of my head.

Looking over my shoulder as I was being pulled, guided, maybe even carried by my arms, I took my last look, at least for that day, at Jack’s raised final resting place in his beloved hometown of New Orleans.

He was with his parents again, his coffin having just been slid into the family vault at one of the oldest cemeteries in The Big Easy.

Heart Attack ‘they’ had told me on that awful night that Jack’s boss and his wife knocked on my door at three in the morning.

“Heart attack? That can’t be,” I remember protesting, “he’s only forty-two…how can it be a heart attack, there must be some mistake,” the memory of those exact words fresh and clear in my mind.

There was no mistake.

Jack was gone.

Jack was not coming back to me…ever.

“Here sweetie, take these with a sip of your wine,” Vicki said softly as she handed me a couple of ‘mild’ sedatives given to her, as a precaution.

“Just in case,” my doctor said to Vicki when he handed her the pills before we were to leave for the flight to New Orleans.

We were back at our hotel, a small boutique hotel whose brick walls were at least two hundred years old. This was Jack’s favorite place to stay whenever we came to visit what little family that was left here after Hurricane Katrina butt-raped the city in ’05.

Vicki’s room was right next door, close if I needed her help but mostly, private for me and my own thoughts. I was trying frantically to recover bits and pieces of the past ten days and, slowly, but surely, snippets of mind-movies would pop up in my head.

I vaguely remember being asked by Jack’s boss, Hank, or was it his wife, Jan? if there was anyone they could call. I must have told them to call my assistant, Vicki, because shortly thereafter, Vicki showed up at my home and took control of my life, thank God.

From that point forward, it was a total and complete blur for me. Vicki handled everything, contacting our home office to inform them of the turn of events. The Chief Operating Officer, and my up-line boss, told Vicki to stay with me throughout the process, that they, the home office, would take care of handling things at our office for the next few weeks.

Vicki made the arrangements for a local funeral home to handle Jack’s preparation for shipment and burial in New Orleans. She handled the obit for both the local paper and for posting in the New Orleans paper, made the arrangements for a local memorial service as well as the funeral mass in Louisiana’s largest city.

She took care of it all, including packing for the trip, leaving nothing to chance. All I had to do was to grieve and of that, there was plenty.

“Thanks, Vicki, I don’t know what I would have done without you,” I said in praise of her care-taking.

“Quit it,” she admonished, “its what people do for the ones they care about,” shrugging off my compliment and graditude, “from this point forward, we concentrate on getting your life back on track and I’ll be there to help with that as well.”

Of that I had no doubt.

“Have you even thought about how much time you’ll need away from the office?” She asked, switching tracks to work-stuff.

“I have…and it’ll be sooner rather than later,” I replied, “I need to get back to the office, sweetie, I need to get back into routine quickly otherwise I’ll just stay home and cry…”

“You’ve done enough of that already,” Vicki interrupted to say, “Jack wouldn’t want that, at least, I ‘think’ he wouldn’t.”

“You’re right, he wouldn’t…”

We had talked of this moment, Jack and I, both declaring that if one of us were to go first that we’d want the ‘other’ to quickly move forward with his or her life, whichever the case.

Talking about it was one thing but, now, the ‘what if’ had become a reality and a reality that I had to live with…..

Fast forward 6 months…

Life does move forward, with or without you, it’s your choice, at the end of the day.

I chose to move forward.

I had returned to the office three weeks after Jack’s funeral. It was a bit clumsy at first, my staff all expressing their condolences, for the second or third time in some instances, but they were heart-felt and well-meaning and I accepted them as such.

But, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I welcomed Anadolu Yakası Escort the day that mention of his passing didn’t happen. It was then that I felt things had returned to ‘normal’.

Except for my sex life, I was still doing without.

Oh, I had offers of sexual relief from Vicki, from Marnie, and even a call from the now, Mindy-less Bob who had ‘heard’ or read of Jack’s passing.

To Bob, it was “Thanks, but no thanks”.

To my two GFs, it was more like “Not yet…soon, but not yet.”

They understood.

They ‘got it’.

But, here I was on a Friday afternoon, six months after I’d buried my husband, getting ready for a weekend in pussy-ville with a woman I had met on the ‘net, in a chat room for grief victims.

Her name is Beth. She is forty-eight, looks thirty-eight, and can behave as if she’s eighteen.

Our stories were similar, except for the age thing, and our chats and emails eventually led to some Skype sessions, just her and I. Phone calls followed, each interaction between us becoming more personal, more connected on so many different levels.

We met for dinner one night, last week, meeting in person for the first time in our four month relationship. I’m not sure that’s the right word for whatever it was we had, but it’ll suffice.

Of course I recognized her right away standing outside the restaurant, waiting for me. I approached her from behind, noticing the curvature of her ass in her skirt which hugged her hips and ass nicely. Turning as I approached, our eyes locked, hers on my smiling face, mine on her vee-necked blouse that showed an appropriate amount of freckled cleavage.

I felt a ‘tingle’.

After the initial hugs of greeting were over, we nervously sat down at our table, ordered wine and proceeded to get to know each other ‘in person’.

We talked, ordered dinner, neither of us lacking for something to say about anything. Dinner over, we ordered a second bottle of wine and a dessert which neither of us touched, perferring the wine and the conversation. I listened as she described what her life had been since losing her husband a little over a year ago. I listened but heard little.

I was fantasizing.

My panties were dampening.

Beth poured us a fresh glass of wine while winding down her ‘spiel’. I was ogling her cleavage, my sense of smell was being gloriously fucked by whatever her scent was, and did I mention that my panties were dampening?

“How ’bout you? How’re you ‘really’ doing, hon?” Beth asked graciously, the question slapping me back into the real world, forcing me to leave the porno show that was going on in my mind with Beth and I.

“Doing okay,” I replied honestly.

I was.

I was dealing with it all and had even made a quick trip back to New Orleans by myself, a month after I buried Jack, to say goodbye to him again, but privately this time.

“Being back at work has helped a ton,” I added, “Nothing like the workplace to get your mind off of personal shit.”

“Yeah, me too,” Beth interjected, “That helped a lot, helped me find the path back to normalcy, including thinking about my sex life again…didn’t realize how much I had missed that, to tell the truth.”

I chuckled a bit.

“What’s so funny?” She asked.

“Thought I was being weird or something because I’ve been thinking about mine as well and I didn’t know if that was right…didn’t know if it was normal to get ‘those’ feelings again, so soon.”

“I’m no expert but I think it to be normal…to be expected, especially if you’d had an active sex life before losing your partner,” Beth opined.

“We had a great sex life,” I averred.

“Yeah, we did too,” Beth replied.

We were silent for a few moments, each lost in our own thoughts of whatever, my finger nervously tracing small circles on the the tablecloth.

“Want to get out of here?” I heard myself suddenly asking.

“Leave? Where to?” Beth responded.

“My place. I’m close…we could go to my place,” I offered, my nervousness showing in my smile I thought.

Beth stared at me for quite a while before answering, our eyes locked with each other’s, our smiles not leaving our faces, her mind working, mulling over my suggestion I was sure.

“Shari, are you propositioning me?” She asked bluntly, her smile now a bit wicked.

“Okay, let’s go with that…yes, I’m propositioning you.” I replied.

“I’m Anadolu Yakası Escort Bayan not too old for you?” She asked with raised eyebrow.

“I’m not too young for you?” I answered.

“Bring me back to my car? Tonight?” Beth asked.

“Or, in the morning,” I answered.

Her smile broadened, her eyes not leaving my face as she signaled the waitress for our check…

Thinking it ‘smarter’ that she should follow me instead of leaving her car, we chose that option. Standing next to her at her car, I slipped my arm behind her back, pulling her gently towards me, towards my lips.

She didn’t resist, she didn’t flinch, she went with it, our kiss soft, gentle, her lips moist and warm, sending an electric shock to my needful snatch.

Driving the short ten minute route to my house, I kept checking the rear view mirror to make sure she was still following. While doing so, my right hand was under my skirt, my fingers brushing gently over the silk material of my panties, my ‘little man’ beginning to stir from the attention.

“Fix you something to drink?” I offered after entering the house from the garage, her car now parked next to mine, the garage door down and locked.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Beth replied as she followed me to the liquor cabinet in the den. Seating herself on one of the barstools, she watched as I whipped up a couple of Gin and Tonics.

“So, was that your plan when you asked me to dinner, to ply me with wine in order to have your way with me?” Beth teased when I handed the drink to her, clinking my glass against hers.

“Actually…no,” I answered truthfully, “the thought of having my way with you didn’t form until after I saw you standing in front of the restaurant, looking all sexy in your skirt and blouse.”

“What if I had said no, that I wasn’t into sex with other women?” She asked after taking a long sip of her cocktail.

“Then, I would have stopped off for fresh batteries for my vibrator, I suppose,” I joked in reply.

Probably wasn’t a joke though.

“You need to know something,” Beth said softly, quickly downing the rest of her drink and lifting her glass towards me in a silent request for another. Finishing my drink quickly, I took hers from her and began the process.

“What’s that? What is it that I ‘need’ to know?” handing her a fresh drink afterwards.

“The last man I had sex with was my husband,” Beth informed me, “and when I decided it was time to indulge my need for sex again after his death, it was with another woman…and then, another…then another.”

“And?” I queried.

“And before that, I would have said I was ‘Bi’ but now I’m questioning whether or not, at some point, that I’ve slipped from ‘Bi’ to full-blown ‘Lez’,” she explained further.

“I understand your quandry, Beth, but I don’t see your problem…you like to make love with other women…so do I. I love it!! It is what it is and, for that, I don’t apologize or question it,” I said in final comment on her revelation.

“Follow me, sweetie,” I said, taking her hand in mind, “let’s go fuck!”

“Let’s do, indeed,” Beth replied as she allowed herself to be led down the hallway to my bedroom…

Beth stands five-eight’ish to my five-five’ish; One thirty-ish to my one-ten and a most excellent set of knockers! Well-formed, real, not store-bought and oh-so-sensitive to the ‘touch’.

I found this out as I took my time undressing Beth, both of us standing next to my bed. Kissing her soft skin as I pulled clothing from her body, her breathing deepened, her hands running through my hair, fondling and caressing my breasts through my blouse as she became more excited.

But when I slipped her bra from her arms, letting it fall to the floor, and leaned in to suck her nipple between my lips, her hands gripped my hair tightly, almost hurtful, her breathing changing to a low, gutteral growl.

“Oh God….bite me…please, bite them, harder, please harder,” her voice begged as I nipped and bit on her breasts while sliding her panties down her long, toned legs.

Pushing her so that she was forced to sit on my bed, her feet on the floor, I quickly kneeled between her legs, both of my hands quickly above my head to fondle her tits while my face found its trimmed target. Laying onto her back, she placed her hands over mine, fondling and feeling herself along with me while opening her legs to allow my face Escort Anadolu Yakası and tongue to have free access to her now-wet and slick, pussy.

“Yesssssss……oh lordy….yesss!” Beth’s voice cooed when I slipped my lips over her clit and began sucking on it as if it were a ‘mini-dick’. Her hands, once again, gripped my hair tightly, her breathing rapidly becoming louder and louder.

For my part, the sweet and tangy taste of her pussy was making my stomach do flip-flops, her scent of arousal driving me into a feeding frenzy, her taste exciting me beyond belief.

Was it because it had been so long since I had had a sexual encounter?


Didn’t matter, though, I went with it, went with it all, the only objective for me, now, to get her off so that she could then ‘do’ me. A bit selfish of me, no doubt, but I was letting her get her rocks first, wasn’t I?

That has to count for something, I reasoned.

Slipping two fingers into her humping snatch, I took a page from Marnie’s playbook and thrust them deep into her, to the last knuckles of my hand as I greedily munched and sucked on her most excellent forty-eight year-old pussy.

Her climax came quickly after I began fingering her, her cries of release and pleasure loud, filling my bedroom with the sounds of satisfaction. Quickly recovering from her first orgasm, Beth pulled my mouth tighter to her pussy as her hips squirmed and bucked against my face, allowing her to grab two or three-I don’t know, I lost count-more climaxes.

“Oh baby, oh God…..,” she cooed when I removed my fingers from her cunt, her hands grabbing mine so that she could suck and lick her own juices from my slick fingers.

With one last, long, sucking of my fingers, Beth pulled me from my knees and literally threw me onto the bed, onto my back. Frantically, her fingers flew to the buttons and snaps of my blouse and skirt, the garments flying from my body to the floor, bed-rail, and in the case of my bra, onto a nightstand lamp’s shade.

All the while that Beth was stipping me of my clothes, she kissed me deeply, her tongue freely exploring my wet, warm mouth. Sucking on her tongue hungrily, I was fingering her, sliding my juice-slicked finger up her ass-crack, the tip of my finger ‘teasing’ her puckered hole.

Her response to that was to widen her knee-stance a bit to make it easier for me to do so. And when I slipped the tip of my finger into her ass-hole, she drove her tongue so deep into my throat that I thought I would choke.

But I didn’t…I DID suck on her tongue as if it was an eight-inch, thick cock though, that’s what I did.

And she liked that, liked it a lot.

Pulling her mouth from mine, Beth gazed down at me with glazed eyes and a lustful smile, her breathing coming in hard, loud gasps. Swinging her leg over my head which put her and I into a sixty-nine position, she widened her knees which pulled her puckered hole a bit wider.

Lowering her head between my legs, Beth’s mouth and tongue were quickly working magic on my sopping-wet pussy. Raising my head until my mouth was on her slick snatch, I began eating her while slipping my finger into her ass-hole at the same time.

As it was with Marge-the only other older woman that I had fucked-Beth knew how to eat pussy! Don’t get me wrong here, both Vicki and Marnie are excellent lovers but, Beth KNEW how to eat pussy!

Hey! It is what it is!

Beth dragged her well-eaten cunt from my home at around two the next morning, an early morning conference call the reason that she needed to go back to her place.

“You understand don’t you?” She pleaded as she put her skirt and blouse back on.

“Yes, I do, I’m a working girl too, remember?” I assured her.

“What are you doing this weekend?” She asked further, sitting next to my sex-wet nakedness on my bed.

“Nothing planned, why? Want to fuck me again?” I joked in response.

I wasn’t joking, of course.

“Well, yes, of course I do, but that’s not the reason I’m asking,” she replied with a grin, “Would you like to spend the weekend with me at our place, my place, up in the foothills?”

“That sounds nice…yeah, I would,” I quickly accepted.

Thus, the plans were made for me to pick her up at her place on Friday afternoon and to head up to the hills for some serious fucking.

Putting the down the garage door after she had backed out, I closed the door to the garage, the memory of our long, deep good-bye kiss still fresh on my lips.

Padding down the hallway back to my bedroom, I suddenly flashed Vicki and Marnie, quickly paranoid that my first fuck after burying my husband wasn’t with either of them.

Nonsense. They would understand, I hopefully reasoned to myself.

So, why do I feel like I’m cheating on them?

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