Here's the normal disclaimer that all participants are over 18 and are a figment of my imagination. The story features the appreciation of an intact male, and a mature relationship that builds over time. This is not a: "I pounded her with my 10 inches and she loved it" story. If that's what you are looking for or if uncircumcised sex is not your thing, probably it's best to look elsewhere. Otherwise, enjoy!
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My wife of 23 years had died on April 22, 2014 of a very aggressive form of cancer. I know, people usually use euphemisms to try to soften the reality of death. It didn't work for me. She died, and, while expected, it still was overwhelming, but final. Frankly, I spent most of the next several months in a deep funk. Eventually, I realized that I was still relatively young and in good health. As I came out of my funk I realized I needed to move on with my life. First, I wanted to move away from my Midwestern roots and all the little things that reminded me of Rebecca. Second, I truly liked being married and hoped to be in another relationship, however that may be defined, at some point in the future. But I did find that concept daunting. By the way, I am David Michael Browne, a 45 year old who has an undergraduate degree in Electrical Engineering, with a Minor in Biology, and a Master's in Business Administration. I had spent the last couple of decades working for a small Bio-medical firm at the forefront of their field. I had connections to Northern New England from my youth and decided to look for opportunities there. After exploring possible opportunities in Vermont and New Hampshire, I was drawn to Maine.
I sold my house, kept the important things from my home, sold, gave away or donated the rest, and headed to Maine. I found a winterized camp on Lower Missaquantic Lake, midway up Maine and about an hour from the coast. The draw to me was three-fold: Clearwater, Maine was a small town of about 2,000, it had decent high-speed internet, and it was close to Worthington, a much larger city, with a well-known University, with all the educational, leisure and recreational activities that you would expect to be associated with a college town. My wife and I had lived modestly, had no children, and had accumulated a nice nest-egg. Between the gain in the sale of our house and our nest-egg, I was able to purchase the camp outright and moved in in late May 2015. My new home was relatively small but well-built and well insulated. It was all on a single level and consisted of a functional galley kitchen, adjoining nook for meals, living room with a stone fireplace, a relatively large bedroom with an adjacent full bath, and two smaller rooms which shared a smaller bath, which was also accessible from the living room. The front of the cabin had a full length porch that faced south towards the lake.
Before moving to Maine, I had explored employment opportunities in the area, but ultimately decided to start my own consulting business from home. Over the next year, I threw myself into my business and it grew slowly but steadily. While my work kept me quite busy, I still found some spare time to engage in all of the activities that I enjoyed in the past: gardening, woodworking, hiking, biking, kayaking, photography, reading and cooking. The last one I found was degenerating into simple, quick and frankly uninteresting meals. Who wants to cook for just one? During a lull in my consulting, I combined two of my interests and built a wooden kayak from a kit, finishing it in late June. Today I was taking it out for the first time. I believed that it was well designed when I was building it and was delighted to find it was well balanced on the water. I started south, down the east side of the lake. Lower Missaquantic Lake runs north and south, is about one and a half miles long and is about a half mile wide at its widest. I found that the locals referred to it as the Lower Lake. It is fed by the Missaquantic River which flows from Upper Missaquantic Lake and eventually flows out to the Atlantic. When kayaking, I tend to stay close to the shore as there are more interesting things to see. As I was paddling up the west side, about fifty yards from shore, I saw a very naked woman sunbathing and reading a book on a small protected beach. While she intrigued me, I continued paddling, as I didn't want to intrude on her privacy. My impressions were brief: a bit younger than me, attractive, but she did not try to cover up nor did she acknowledge my presence. I arrived home a few minutes later.
After dinner that evening, I thought of her again and speculated about who she might be, but our encounter was very brief and she receded from my mind. My business continued to build and I found myself quite busy. A couple of weeks later I took an afternoon off and rode my bike around the perimeter of the lake. On the west side I approached a woman riding in the opposite direction. As we passed, I thought I saw a smirk of recognition and I was pretty sure it was the same woman.
Because of my extensive experience in my field, I had accumulated a large number of contacts over the years. I was able to focus my efforts on the people I liked working with and cultivated them as clients. Although I had high speed internet, and conducted most of my business that way, I strongly believe there is still a need for face to face meetings. Thus I found myself driving to Portland International Jetport and flying on to Atlanta. Three days later and a large contract in my pocket, I was in the JetBlue departure lounge at Hartsfield-Jackson Airport, a half hour before my flight to JFK and the second flight on to Portland. I was immersed in the latest Carl Hiaasen novel and didn't really pay attention to the person who sat down next to me. A couple of minutes passed and she said "I believe we may be neighbors in Clearwater." I enjoy Hiaasen, but I dropped my book into my lap as she had my immediate full attention. She definitely was the sunbather. I looked at her more closely. She was probably in her late thirties, tall at around 5' 10", and athletically built, but with enough curves to be very attractive. Remembering our first contact, I reddened slightly.
"Cat got your tongue? "
"I..."
"I'm Maggie Shepard. I'm pretty sure you bought the old Marshfield place at the north end of Lower Lake. Nice place, by the way."
"David Browne. And how did you..."
"Clearwater's a small, closely-knit town. As with any small town, people know each other, and their business. Sometimes too much. And, they are always aware of newcomers, especially quiet ones who don't give the gossips anything to spread. So, today seems to be a good time for us to meet officially. Welcome, David."
As Maggie spoke she had a twinkle in her eyes. Over the years I came to believe that a person's eyes speak more about a person than their words. If a person smiles with their eyes, they are likely to be genuine and trustworthy. Maggie's light gray eyes, with hints of green suggested a northern European heritage. It also foretold an intense passion and hinted at an adventurous and mysterious personality, if you believe everything you find on the internet. While I was lost in these thoughts, she said:
"We're going to have to chase that cat away if we are going to have a conversation."
"Sorry. Between noticing your beautiful eyes, remembering the circumstances of our first meeting and finding you a thousand miles from home, I'm a bit flustered. I'm down here trying to drum up some business. And you?"
"Eyes huh?"
