My Young Lover


Tags: Romantic, Slow, .

Desc: : Widow has a 'vision'.

I had given up on the idea of ever meeting another man like my late husband and my biological clock was ticking.

We had been an item since high school and were married at twenty, so my days of playing the field were virtually non-existant.

I was content though, to accept the standard wedding vows; only problem was: No one ever expected "'til death us do part" to mean only twenty three years!

Since we were married so young, I had not reached meopause before my love life suddenly ceased, and I had many years left of desire.

Fortunately, I didn't have to rush out and get a job. My husband was successful and I was set for life.

It was his success that eventually cost him his life - jetting around the world so often.

Unlike the 3.4 auto mishaps actuaries tell their insurance companies the average American will endure, it's a completely different thing with airline crashes.

One is usually all you may encounter because you don't survive them.

After the funeral, there was the usual cadre of friends that dropped by to try to cheer me up, but after a while, I guess they felt that their 'duty' was over and the visits dried up.

I spent more and more time at the country club while debating whether or not I was even going to renew membership or pull my equity and leave.

Then one fine day, while staring out into infinity from my shaded table near the pool, my eyes suddenly drank in this vision, and I focused on him as he emerged from the water.

I had seen him since we first joined the club. He was a teenager then and I scarely took note of him, what with my husband and mate there with me.

But now, with his rippling musculature, evenly tanned skin, and disarming smile, I was rapt and when he sat down at the table with me, I had to bury my face in my hands so he wouldn't see that I was ogling him sexually!

I guess we were conversing, but for the life of me, I couldn't focus on what, because I was fantasizing!

I was under the table, oblivious as to whether anyone was watching, and this young stud was naked, and presenting his manhood for my pleasure.

I knelt forward, engulfing his penis, feeling the expansion to fullness as my mouth, unseen to him, could be anyone's, any girl friend's, and it made me feel wonderful that I could do that to a man so much younger than me.

When I brought him to completion, there was no other choice but to drink him down, lest there be any telltale mess.

As I continued my thoughts, he would want to return the favor, so I let him drag me to the pool where he could make me stand at the ladder while he dropped down a few steps, allowing his face to achieve the proper height.

I pressed forward, my panties suddenly in my purse, my exposed genitalia there for his sight only.

Then suddenly, he was head first, up my skirt, delving his tongue where only my husband had ever been, hooking his taster against my hooded bud, snaking in to lap up the juices that were rapidly accumulating there for him.

I didn't think it was possible to cum while in such an awkward position, but 'live and learn' as they say, he made me actually ooze.

Suddenly though, from all this emotion, I bcame weak in the knees, and I was in danger of falling.

My young man now had my panties in his hand and dipped them in the pool water, sensing my light headedness.

As he brought them toward my face, I realized that they had my female scent strongly imprinted on them. I had not gotten them off before my first wetness and it suddenly made me uncomfortable!

When he touched them to me, I passed out, but only back into the present.

As I refocused my eyes, it was a linen napkin, dipped in ice water, that had shaken me from my mesmerizing stupor.

This boy, this man, had the presence of mind to see I was woozy and had acted swiftly, not wanting me to keel over.

After assuring the gathering assemblage that I was all right, I let my young man offer to take me home.

His two seat sports car was way too confining for my condition, so I asked him to take me home in my town car.

I didn't want this day to end quickly, so I tilted my head back with my eyes closed for most of the trip, looking for all the world like I would need further help, once we got inside my door.

Walking unsteadily into my home, I let myself be led to my bedroom, walking out of my sandals the moment I was indoors.

Now came the most critical moment of all and I didn't know where to begin.

Steeling up strength, I spoke, almost matter-of-factly, "Help me out of these things."

Dutifully, I felt the zipper come down my back at the lightest touch I could imagine. I knew he would not press further with my undies.

Actually, he shocked me by NOT turning his head!

Was this actual concern?

Or was it (even better) an invitation to progress beyond this tentative beginning into deeper waters?

I had to speak up, or he might be out the door in moments.

.... There is more of this story ...

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Story tagged with:
Romantic / Slow /