My divorce put me off ever having a permanent relationship with another woman. The courts were so obviously biased in favour of the woman even though she was the guilty party that I swore I would never go through this again.
I had to sell the home that was given to me by my parents as that was the only way I could pay the lump sum the courts demanded I pay my wife. It did her no good either, for two weeks later she was killed in a car crash, in the sports car she had bought herself with the money. From that day I knew someone was working in my corner.
After the house was sold I took rooms in an old friend's wife's home. He had died only a short time before when he was in his seventies and was a lot older than his wife, but she was no spring chicken. She was afraid to live in the big house all on her own and offered me the rooms. Maria was Spanish and had that lovely Latin look about her, her long hair was tied up in two buns either side of her head. But she dressed in the traditional country Spanish dress which looked odd in this modern age.
Five years, I have lodged with Mrs Gomez; I have my own suite consisting of a bedroom, lounge and bathroom, it is all I need. In the evenings I usually go and sit with her and watch TV for an hour or so but other than that and Tuesdays when I take her to the shops we don't socialise. Her English isn't the best although she has been in this country for over thirty years.
I've had a few departmental trysts with other female members, but only for sex, there were no long or suggested partnerships. At the age of 34 I was getting less sex than my age group but enough to stop me abusing myself.
Anyway enough of the background; about six months ago Maria started calling me Juan and talking to me about things I knew nothing about. I just sat and agreed with her, maybe I shouldn't have, but it was the easiest way out of the problem. Also she started to forget things that happened in the short-term and become confused with dates and other small things.
I was that worried that I took her to see her doctor, who told me she was in the early stages of dementia, physically she was almost 100% it was just the mental thing. As she had no children or relatives that I knew of, it was left to me to take care of her.
So now instead of an hour I was spending all the time I was off in her company. The only thing wrong with this was that she no longer called me by my name, but the name of her dead husband, the strangest thing, only in the afternoons. In the mornings she was her old self and as she got tired, the memory seemed to go and she slipped back to a time span in the past.
The whole thing came to a head one warm summer's night as I lay naked asleep on my bed, stretched out lying on my back. I was suddenly woken by a weight on my hips and when I opened my eyes Maria who was in her early sixties was impaled on my rigid cock. She was smiling down at me with her hair flowing down over her naked breasts.
The feeling I had was sensational, buried in a moist and warm pussy and being woken in this situation was something I had never experienced before.
"Do you like this Juan, do you still love your Maria?" She asked while sliding up and down my shaft, gripping it in her velvety passage.
"Yes that is lovely Maria, but I'm not Juan," I said, but I must admit the last bit was said rather quietly for I was loving this unexpected pleasure.
.... There is more of this story ...