Author's note: The following is a love story between two older people who have been married for many years. It is also the first of several stories leading to their sexual re-birth. I have used several terms in this story which may be unfamiliar to the reader, but they are common to the area in which I live. For that, I apologize, but the reader should be able to translate easily from the context in which they appear.
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Tara and Drew had been married for over 35 years. They married immediately after college and their lives followed a fairly normal path. They had children, enjoyed sex, played adult games, and even exchanged partners a couple times with friends when they were younger. Although their life together was uneventful, they were happy.
However, as they approached their mid fifties, things changed. Drew's diabetes caught up with him three years ago and caused a mild heart attack. He recovered from the attack and the angioplasty that followed, but the diabetes left him physically impotent. Poor circulation to his penis left him cockless. He could not take Viagra because of its effect on his heart and blood pressure. At sixty years old, he felt his fucking life was over.
After his recovery, Tara accepted their situation. She told him that she preferred a live Drew with no sex to a dead Drew and no sex. She loved him and, after all, she was nearly sixty years old. She told herself that sex wasn't all that important. Sex was enjoyable, but there was more to life.
However, there were times in the past three years, when she was in bed and Drew had already fallen asleep, that some of the memories of her youth came creeping back into her consciousness. There was the time they played strip poker with their best friends Shelly and Stan. How it thrilled her to see a cock other than her husband's. There was nothing special about Stan's cock. It was no bigger than Drew's. It was just that it was some one else's cock. Or take the time when they were at Shelly and Stan's house after Drew's vasectomy. They were drinking wine and reliving his surgery when Tara got up; went over to Stan; pulled out is cock and sucked him off. What made her do that? She didn't remember. But, it kept popping up in her memory and it gave her a fantastic feeling.
When such thoughts came to her at night, she would run her hand to her pussy, take her clit between her index and middle finger and gently massage them back and forth. She seldom brought herself to orgasm, but the feeling was pleasurable and helped her to relax and fall asleep. No, sex wasn't important to her any more. That was all past and gone.
"Tara... Tara, did you hear what I said? I asked if you have thought any more about finding a boyfriend." Since his heart attack, it was a question that Drew had often asked his wife while they were lying in bed. He had tried to convince her that finding a fuck-buddy might be the answer to his impotence. But, he knew what her answer was going to be.
"No dear, I haven't!" she said. "Don't be silly!"
It was Tara's usual response, but Drew could not understand why. He knew she loved him; she showed it in so many ways. But, they hadn't screwed once since the attack. She must miss it. She was always sexual in the past, so she must have urges now. He certainly did. You just don't turn it off like a faucet. He thought about fucking all the time. He thought about fucking her. He thought about fucking her friends and co-workers. He thought about fucking his daughter's friends. If it had a cunt and wore a skirt on two legs, he thought about fucking it. He relived their past escapades and fantasized about new ones all the time. He has loved her more than anything or anyone for nearly 40 years. But, he also loved all women. He just couldn't fuck any of them. But that shouldn't stop her.
"I'm not being silly. I think you should seriously consider it as an alternative to our situation. You are still an attractive women. A little bit over weight perhaps, but I know there are plenty of guys our age on this island that would love to get into your pants."
"HRUMPH! Why don't you just go to sleep?" She rolled slightly to her left into her normal sleeping position on her back. "Attractive my ass!" she muttered to herself. She closed her eyes, seeking sleep. And, in that twilight zone where she was not quite awake, but not yet asleep, memories flashed.
"Well, so much for an enlightened discussion on that topic," Drew thought. However, out of the corner of his eye he noticed Tara's hand moving under the top sheet toward her pussy. He noticed the rhythmic movement of the sheet, but he didn't move. He just watched silently.
"Do you want to put hour hand in my pants?" she whispered.
He turned slightly toward her and absent-mindedly ran his right hand over her ribs and under her ample, mature breasts. He wasn't going to do anything. He was going to do what most husbands do in similar situations. He was just going to give her a half-hearted massage to help her relax and drift off to sleep.
He moved his hand toward her stomach in slow circular movements. He reached her navel and traced his finger in ever decreasing circles around it until his finger was reaming its sides. He took his finger out of her belly button and spread his hand over her stomach just below her navel. Now he had his thumb in her belly button and his ring and little finger under the waistband of her panties. He massaged both areas at the same time.
Tara let out a slow gentle sigh as he slid his whole hand under the waistband and into the curly hair above her pussy. The hair lay close to her skin in tight, matted curls. He ran his fingers randomly through her pubic hair fluffing it up as he went. Once the fluffing was done, he quickly cupped her pussy with his hand and stopped all movement but added pressure to her entire cunt area. As he withdrew his hand upward, he raked the nails of his index and little fingers along the joint of both thighs and her pussy while his middle and ring fingers applied pressure to her slit. The lips of her cunt still protected her puka, but their outer edges squeezed up between his two fingers.
