Story Code: M/F, MM/F, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Interracial
***
John had the bad fortune to be in exactly the wrong place at the wrong time, he was driving from Leicester to Nottingham along the A47 when a thirty ton tipper truck crossed the divide and used my husband's car as a break!
Twenty years of marriage, twenty years of looking after John's house, twenty years of looking after him, twenty years of entertaining him in his bed, ostensibly to make a baby but I just guess that he was a bit of a sex maniac really. John was only home three nights a week, spending the other four travelling around selling various kinds of insurance and on the three nights that he was home, all he wanted to do was fuck.
I was eighteen when I married John, straight from school, I had friends in Newcastle where I grew up but when John got a promotion at the Newcastle Premium Life Insurance Company we had to move to Northamptonshire, John had to set up a new office and start to expand the company's network. John had Leicester, Derby, Nottingham, Northampton and Peterborough in his area, seeking out leads and filtering appointments out to more than fifty salesmen.
In twenty years living in Northampton, I'd never managed to make any friends, as soon as people heard my accent; they closed ranks so now I was a forty year old widow without a friend in the world. I didn't even know if I had any money in the bank to live on but John being in the insurance business, I assumed he'd have life insurance...
I started cleaning house, my husband's job necessitated reading local newspapers to gather addresses, telephone numbers or contact details from 'Births, Deaths and Marriages' or as John called them, hatched, matched and dispatched.
I cleared more than a thousand old newspapers out of John's office. When I returned from the recycling bank I found the latest newspaper from Leicester. I'd have to find out where John ordered that paper from to cancel it. I was about to throw the paper in the bin unread when I realised that it would have been a waste so I sat down with a coffee and started reading.
There was little in the way of news, the paper seemed to be one long stream of advertisements. I stopped at the personal ads; the 'Births Deaths and Marriages' were encircled by personal ads. My eye was drawn to an expensive looking advert, 'Fun loving lady, early fifties, seeks similar for friendship and travel. Box 556!'
My first thought was, 'Just how desperate must a person be to place an advert like that?'
I closed the paper and went to bed; I tossed and turned for hours but couldn't get to sleep. I realised that with John gone, I would have to find something or someone to fill the empty space in my life. I didn't relish the prospect of getting out on the meat-market...or should that have been the meet-market...
Page 1
I hauled myself out of bed at four o'clock in the morning and jotted down a quick note...the thing that had me tossing and turning mostly was, what would I put in my own personal advert, how would I describe myself in twelve words or less...I couldn't, I was far too complicated. The natural progression from that first thought was...how would I have answered 'Box 556's' advert. I made six attempts and at six o'clock I had something that I thought I could send. I was really sleep-deprived or I wouldn't have sealed the letter in an envelope and addressed it to 'Box 556, Leicester Mercury'.
I actually convinced myself that with such vague address, my response to 'Box 556' stood very little chance of being delivered so I promptly forgot all about it.
I didn't want to go out, I know that it was crazy but I got the feeling that everyone, even people that didn't know me, were avoiding me and giving me pitying looks. I set about cleaning house...starting from the food cupboards. There were certain foods that John liked, that I ate only because he liked them, I didn't bother cooking any of those. I gathered anything that was unopened and dried or tinned, I crept out of the house at ten o'clock, just before my local supermarket closed and dumped John's favourite dried or tinned food in their 'Food for the homeless' program's collection bin.
I spent two weeks eating out of my cupboards and freezer and was just getting to the point that I'd need to go shopping, I had plenty of money, I got an instant payment of fifty thousand pounds from my husband's life insurance and discovered that even our mortgage had an inbuilt insurance built into it that if either one of us died the house would be paid off completely. I had no idea what I'd be worth in the end because my husband was at work when he died, his company would make a 'Death in service' payment as well as a sum from compensation from the company that caused my husband's death but that would be settled in a court case at some point in the future.
I met the postman on the drive as I was heading for my car to go shopping for the first time since my husband died, he had just one letter for me, the envelope was white and my address was handwritten in copperplate script, 'John's Great Aunt!' popped into my head, she was the only person I knew that took such care when writing a letter. I threw the letter on the front passenger seat and drove to the supermarket. I was wearing a wide brimmed hat with my coat collar turned up so that I was as hidden as possible on my way to the shop and when I got there I popped on big sunglasses, even my own mother wouldn't recognise me but I still felt like people were looking at me, pitying me!
My shopping trip started out okay, I collected a large trolley so that I could replace all of the food I'd eaten over the previous month, I walked through the doors calmly, I selected a bunch of bananas from the fruit and veg stalls. I knew I needed potatoes, carrots, cauliflower, green beans and onions but with just bananas in my trolley I walked on towards the dry goods area, I collected a kilo bag of porridge. I was walking quicker now; I managed to grab a loaf of bread and a bottle of milk before running to the checkouts.
Page 2
I was just short of hyper-ventilating by the time I put my meagre shop into the boot of my car. I drove home and made a pot of coffee and sat in the living room to try and get my breath back and suddenly remembered the letter from John's Great Aunt, still sitting on the front passenger seat of my car. I couldn't face going back out to the car, 'The letter will still be there in the morning!' fired off in my head and even though it was only four o'clock in the afternoon, I went to bed. I wasn't physically exhausted; it was more emotionally tired and mentally exhausted. I did feel a little guilty at leaving John's Great Aunt out in the cold but John had been dead for a month now so one more day before her condolence letter is read wouldn't hurt.
I slept in short bursts, thirty minutes sleeping and an hour staring at the ceiling, it had been over a month since I'd stared at the ceiling with John on top of me, I used to try and hold off my orgasm as long as I possibly could even though I really enjoyed sex and the orgasm but just before I married John my oldest friend got drunk on my 'Hen' night and told me that if I wanted to make sex sessions last longer after my honeymoon I had to hold off my orgasm, "Once the shine has worn off his new toy, he'll do you until you climax and he'll follow you straight away thinking his work is done for the night..." My friend chose that moment to slide off the bar stool and onto the floor of the bar.
I woke again at one thirty in the morning; I'd been in bed for almost ten hours but had only actually been sleeping for around three and a half hours. I woke to find that I was actually rubbing my breasts through my nighty and in a half dream I rubbed my hands down over my ribs towards my pussy, as my fingers reached my pubic hair through my gossamer thin nighty I realised that I'd absentmindedly dressed for John...
