My Cousin’s Widow

On the outskirts of Nairobi, where the urban hustle meets serene landscapes, I received a phone call that changed everything. My cousin, John, had suddenly passed away, leaving behind his widow, Sarah, and their two teenage children. The news was a heavy blow, not only for me, but for our entire family. John had been the pillar of his deceased parents' heritage, managing a vast plantation and a grand house that had been in the family for generations. I encountered more of Sarah during the week-long preparations and at the funeral, her eyes red from crying, yet still holding a strength that spoke volumes.

John's elder sisters, in their grief and practicality, approached me with an unexpected proposition.

"Kamau, we know you were close to our brother John," began Abigail. "We want to safeguard the heritage and ensure the family's legacy remained intact."

I looked from one sister to the other, not entirely sure where this was heading.

"The most practical way would be for you to marry Sarah. The two of you already have a connection, don't you?" finished Jenny.

I was flabbergasted. I liked Sarah, and while I could admit to having admired her figure, the idea seemed foreign and overwhelming. "I couldn't deny the logic behind what you girls are saying, but I cannot make any reply now."

We agreed that I would start to help on the farm, while getting to know the children better. And to be truly honest, Sarah as well.

On the evening after the funeral the weight of John's passing seemed to bear on both of us more heavily. As we sat together in the large, echoing house, I could sense the weight she was carrying. We talked about John, about the plantation, and about the future. Slowly, the idea of marriage, though initially awkward, began to seem less like a duty and more like a path we were both meant to take.

Our initial days were filled with shared grief and responsibility. We worked side by side on the plantation, our hands getting dirty together as we managed the land. Sarah's knowledge of the plantation was impressive; she knew every corner, every secret that the land held. I found myself admiring her resilience and dedication.

One evening, as we sat on the porch, the sun setting behind us, we began to talk about our dreams and fears.

"Kamau, sometimes this responsibility seems too much for me. I was a simple girl from the Rift Valley and my family was not rich. The vastness of this plantation sometimes threatens to overwhelm me."

"But if I were to be like the judge on the program that comes on the channel Farmers' Corner, nobody deserves this farm more than you!" I replied. "I have to admire how you balance those duties with those of the children."

She looked across at me with tears brimming. "Really? I always feel as if I was stumbling from one task to the other."

"No, my dear! You are very knowledgeable about everything around here. Thank you for showing me the ropes, because I had never worked on such a large farm."

"It did not seem like that to me. You caught on like a natural." She turned admiring eyes to me. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to offer my support, realizing how much I wanted to be there for her and the kids.

Under a starlit sky, I confessed my growing feelings for her. Sarah looked at me with tears in her eyes, and then she kissed me. It was a moment of pure emotion, a culmination of shared experiences and burgeoning love.

I took by the hand and led her to the bedroom, shedding our clothes as soon as we had closed the door. Her ripe tits felt heavenly in my hands. I squeezed them gently, hearing her moans of arousal. She brought her mouth to mine demanding another kiss, but now in privacy, I could run my tongue over her lips and then find her tongue. We tumbled onto the bed, my legs between hers, cock rampant.

"Why have you denied me this lovely tool till now?" she whined, a note of disappointment in her voice.

For answer I let the helmet nose around in her folds which were by now wet with anticipation. "May I come in now?" I swung my hips downwards, driving my cock deeper into her cunt. But her outer lips stopped my progress and I had to reverse out. She placed her hand on my bum as if to stop me escaping, which was not on my mind. I wanted to draw some of her wetness out, basting the lips with it, before driving insistently back into her. I felt her cunt walls parting to let me into her, causing me to wonder if my cousin had been giving her her dues. It did not feel like very well trampled territory, at least not recently. I was going to chart it anew!

Once having reached the farthest I drew back out again, leaving only the head buried in her. Again her hand came to restrain me, but I had already stopped. I gave her a few shallow strokes, then the whole length in and out. She let out a loud wail and her walls pulsed. I knew she was close to coming. I kept giving her the longest strokes, but made them faster. Her sounds now merged into one long one, punctuated by my banging on her hipbones on every down stroke.

"Ngaiii, you will kill me with that huge cock!" she finally let out. Then I felt her legs straighten out under me and become as stiff as stilts. She trembled out her orgasm for a long moment, while my cock coughed out everything it had kept in store up to this moment. Now we both saw very clearly that our partnership was to be the saving of the family's pride, the more we worked together.

As weeks turned into months, our bond deepened. We laughed together, shared quiet moments, and found solace in each other's company. We managed to move the children to a much better, private school run by Catholic nuns, where we were sure that in addition to academic subjects, they would be given values to live by in later life.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Abby and Jenny visited us often and expressed their respect for the quality of work we had poured into the enterprise. "I wish Father could wake up and see how well his farm is working," said Jenny on one occasion."

"Mother would never believe that what she started has grown to be this prosperous," added Abby.

Our wedding, when it happened, was a simple affair. The family gathered, and there was a sense of peace and joy in the air. We continued to manage the plantation together, building a life filled with love and laughter. Several nights a week we ploughed each other, sowed seed, and tended each other's feelings tenderly. The children, initially hesitant, came to accept me as a father figure, and our home was filled with warmth once more. In the third month after the wedding Sarah took my hand and laid it on her stomach, letting me know that the seed I planted had sprouted.

What had started as a practical arrangement blossomed into a beautiful romance. Sarah and I found love in the most unexpected of places, bound by shared grief and a deep connection that grew stronger with each passing day.