Beth, my wife of nineteen years, died almost four years ago. I stayed by her hospital bed. I stayed with her while she was in hospice; I held her hand and kissed her as she passed from this world; I stood by her casket, looking at her beauty; I stood at the head of her grave and placed a single red rose on her casket before being lowered into her grave.
I didn't cry when her cancer was found, only holding her, letting her tears wet my shirt. I didn't cry when the doctors said she was terminal, allowing her and our children's tears wet my shirt.
I didn't cry during her funeral, nor as her casket settled on the bottom of the hole dug to hold her until the sun expanded, engulfing the earth.
I sat in my car at the cemetery. I placed my right hand on the seat she sat in again, finding an empty seat that would be empty for the rest of my life. The simple act of my hand resting on her leg, her hand covering mine, was gone forever. All the tears I'd repressed came flooding out of me.
I was crying as my family touched my shoulder, as friends expressed their sorrow, and the preacher asked if I needed anything. I said, "I needed my wife."
I returned to work a week after her funeral to a sad office.
No one knew what to say, so they said the wrong things.
Sally, my secretary, hugged me one day. No words, just human touch, a hug held a little longer than necessary, a weak smile on her face; she let go of me, tracing her fingers down my arm before returning to her duties.
I watched Sally as she left my office, seeing a caring woman. She gave me the one thing I needed: no words, no questions about my health, just human touch.
I soon returned to my routine at work, the drone of conversations returning, my reports filling my time, pushing my sorrows further inward.
Sally walked into my office one Friday afternoon. She laid a small stack of papers on my desk.
Sally said, "Bob, you need to look these papers over." "Sign them if they meet your expectations, or return them if you have any issues."
She said these words every Friday then asked, "Bob, how are you doing?" "It's been two years since Beth passed."
I looked at her. I said, "I guess I'm doing fine." "The house is empty, but I'm managing."
Sally asked, "Do you want to have dinner tonight?" "I don't want you to be alone on her anniversary."
I looked at Sally. This woman, my right hand, looked stunning. At just over five feet tall and well-proportioned, her makeup was always perfect, stirring something in me. Something I hadn't felt in a long time.
I said, "Sally, I appreciate everything you've done for me." "But I'm your boss." "I think it would be inappropriate."
Sally handed me another page. Looking at it, I saw she was leaving the company. She had typed her resignation and said, Bob, I'm quitting," knowing I'd say no.
With Sally standing before me, I placed her resignation in the paper shredder and said, "I didn't see anything, and I'd love to have dinner with you."
Six months later, the office was buzzing with talk about Sally and my relationship. We tried to keep our dating quiet, but...
I expected some resentment the day I introduced Sally to my children, but they surprised me by accepting Sally into the family.
Sally sat at my dining room table a few days later, looking at me over the meal I'd cooked, and said, "Bob, I want to fuck you."
I chuckled; the wrong reaction, I know, but the only one I could think of.
I said, "Sally, I've wanted to get you in bed the day you gave me your resignation letter."
We didn't make it to the bedroom. I stood from the table, offering Sally my hand. Smiling, she took it. I pulled her into an embrace, kissing her deeply. She tasted divine, our tongues playing in each other's mouths, my hands on her ass, pulling her into me.
When we broke our embrace, we both gasped with desire. I removed Sally's blouse and fumbled over the buttons, as Sally did the same with my tie and shirt. I pulled her blouse down, keeping her arms in the sleeves, trapping her arms at her side. I leaned down, kissing her chest, just above her bra. Lingering above her breasts, kissing her mounds, I said. "It's been a long time."
Releasing her arms from her blouse sleeves, her hands reaching for my belt, I unzipped her skirt. My pants fell to the floor, joining her skirt in a pile at our feet.
I kicked off my shoes and stepped out of my pants. I picked Sally up and set her on the table. I laid her back and removed her bra, amazed at the shape of her breasts. Kissing her again, I felt her squirming out of her panties and then the pull of my boxers being pulled down.
Kissing her, letting our tongues play with each other, my left hand on her right breast, my right hand moving towards her sex. I felt her stiffen as my fingers slid down her vagina, finding her clitoris. Rubbing her nub, her hand stroking my cock, I wanted to be inside her.
With the sudden crash of plates hitting the floor, silverware scattering across the table, and the wetness of our wine running across the table, I entered her. My cock touched her pussy, her hands on my ass, pulling me towards her.
I slipped inside her pussy easily, her wetness letting me enter her depth, the velvety smoothness of her inner walls driving me toward an orgasm.
I started rocking back and forth, slowly slipping my cock in and out of her. Our mouths glued together, both my hands on her breasts, I felt like a king.
We fucked, and made love for an unknown amount of time. Years, decades later, I felt her stiffen, her wetness increase, her fingers digging into my ass, her orgasm consuming her. I unloaded four years of cum into her. Our bodies inner-twined, and we continued to kiss as our orgasms subsided.
Looking up at me, she said, "I've loved you for years." With my soft cock resting inside her, I looked at this woman. The one person left on this planet who knew everything about me, I said, "I love you too."
As we pulled apart, touching each other, not wanting this closeness to evaporate, I said, "Stay there. I'll get you a towel."
I walked, naked, into the kitchen, wetting a dish towel, wringing it out, and returned to Sally.
I said, "Don't worry about the mess; I'll clean it up."
Sally finished wiping her pussy with the towel; she wiped my cock clean, and together, both of us, still naked, went about cleaning the table and floor.
With every stroke of the broom, I reached out and touched her ass.
Laughing, she said, "If you keep that up, we may make another mess."
We went to the bedroom and lay in bed, kissing and discussing our future.
I was amazed that this woman wanted me, desired me, and couldn't keep her hands off me. Not that I minded. Her touch had me ready for round two.
I had my mouth on her nipples, alternating from one to the other, my fingers playing in her pussy, feeling her wetness; I rolled over, resting my upper body on my arms, and leaned down, kissing her softly; I entered her pussy again.
Taking my time to enjoy this woman, I slowly fucked her, rocking back and forth, her arms wrapped around me as we stared into each other's eyes. I watched her eyes roll back and felt her shudder again, and another orgasm rocked her body, demanding my cum. I gave her myself again, cumming deep inside her again, kissing her, not wanting this moment to end.
I collapsed on her, exhausted after two rounds with this woman.
