Before my wife died from cancer, we had many years with a satisfying sexual life, because we both were honest about our likes, dislikes and fantasies. We delighted in surprising one another with impromptu sex when the opportunity arose. I have fond memories of some things she did to make me feel special.
Why I Miss Her Hands
During one vacation, we were in Colorado Springs, and I wanted to take the train ride through the Royal Gorge. Before we left our car in the parking lot, I did not notice when she took the small bottle of lube out of the glovebox of our car. Between the trunk and glovebox, we always had what we needed for impromptu sex.
The ride consisted of a thirty minute trip up the edge of a mountain, a stop for an hour at the top so that tourists could visit the gift shop, and then the ride back down the mountain.
One side of the track was the edge of the mountain, literally a foot from the edge of the train cars. On the other side was the Colorado River. We had lunch in the dining car, and at one particular point in the trip down the mountain, several groups of people in colored inner tubes were sailing down the river, visible from our train.
Each group of about ten tubers had a different color of inner tubes for their group. Everyone on the train was on the open air car, smoking cigarettes and watching and waving to the people tubing down the river. My wife and I stayed back, supposedly so she could finish her dessert.
Suddenly she reached into her purse and brought out the small bottle of lube.
"Pull it out," she said quietly.
Sneaking sex in a public setting was something that excited the both of us, and we had often risked getting caught, like in an elevator. But when I unzipped my pants, I voiced my concern that the lube and my cum would make an obvious mess on my pants.
"Give me your handkerchief, and then slide your pants down," was her answer.
When I was naked from the waist down, she dribbled some lube down over the tip of my cock and then slipped the bottle back into her purse. I felt fairly safe from being seen because there was nobody else in the train car and I was seated.
"Stand up," she said, as she started stroking me.
"What? No, I can't, if somebody sees..."
"Stand up, or I won't let you come for a week."
I stood up, keenly aware that anybody could come back into the train car at any moment. But she already had my cock hard.
She jerked my cock slowly at first as I stood in the aisle facing her. I put my hand on the back of the seat and the situation soon took me closer to the edge than I had expected.
"Look at me," she said, "don't look away."
Her grip became firmer and I was getting closer. My mind was reeling. What if someone enters the train car? Will she stop? What if she doesn't and somebody sees what she's doing?
