The Widow's Role

by realoldbill

Copyright© 2015 by realoldbill

Sex Story: He wants the man's wife and kills to get her.

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Reluctant   Oral Sex   Size   .

It was all working out just as I had planned. He had called me a cheater, which of course was true, and I had called him out. His shot had grazed my left shoulder and hurt like the dickens but now he was on his knees, begging for his life. I smiled as I shot him in the face. My ball went in his left eye and blew away the back of his head like a ripe pumpkin.

I heard his lovely young wife scream. Soon she would realize that she was penniless and alone after her husband's foul younger brother and his frail wife took over the estate and her man's debts. Then she would come to me and beg. My cock ached to have her.

I picked up the dead man's ornate dueling pistol and handed it to his lush widow with a smile. She gawked at me, her lovely face tear stained. "If you need anything," I said to her, admiring her deep cleavage.

It only took two days, and she was at my door in her widow's weeds, heavily veiled and, much to my pleasure, begging for help. "He won't let me stay, won't let me take anything, not even my jewelry."

I led her to the library, sat her down and poured her some single malt. "I will see to it, my dear."

She gave me a tiny smile.

"Have you buried him?"

She nodded. "I thought you might be there."

I shook my head. "He owes me a great deal, several thousand. Will his brother pay?"

"I think so. He was already rich; his thin wife drips with diamonds and pearls."

"You may stay here as long as you like."

She nodded and sipped.

"The fee will be your body, my dear, willingly if not eagerly. I assume you understand."

She blinked. And her mouth fell open. She shivered, understanding my meaning.

"I intend to pump you full of my jism, to have you bear me a son."

"But, but..."

"My wife is barren."

She shook her head. "I could not. You're crazy, mad!"

I laughed.

She put down her drink and stood, glared at me and turned to leave. I stepped behind her and tore open her black silk gown and ripped it down to her hips with both hands. She squealed as I used my dirk to cut upward through the strings of her fashionable corset.

She spun toward me and tried to claw my face. I tore off her flimsy shift and bared her high, lush breasts and then tossed aside her waist cinchrer. "Now you may leave, leave naked to the weather, to the wolves." I laughed and she fell into my arms. I picked her up, kissed her full lips and hauled her to the velvet sofa near the windows and laid her down, pulled off her shoes and admired her lean body as I undressed.

She lay there, her ruined dress and frilly underclothes tangled about her long legs, and wept and then, when I opened my codpiece and freed my fleshy spear, she screamed.

I chucked. "I had heard that poor Roger had little to offer. Does this look like what you've always needed?" I bobbled my thick ram in my hand, feeling my cods swelling as it rose and filled, getting hard and heavy as I jolted it up and down.

She shook her head from side to side, tossing about her rich curls. "No, no, please," she begged as I stripped off my trousers and knelt near her head on one knee, my long ram lying next to her cheek and twitching.

"Lick it, get it wet," I told her firmly. "It will make it easier." I held it to her lips, ignoring her tears.

She pulled away and I grasped a fine, upright breast and pulled her back toward me and then held my blood-hot cock and brushed it at her lips. "Open," I demanded.

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