The Matrons of Regal Bay
Chapter 9
Gloria's Tales -- Part 2
Outside, the night was turbulent. The storm system working its way down the coast had finally arrived in Regal Bay. Winds gusted, ripping at the limbs of the trees standing in Gloria's backyard as well as those that lined the fairways of the golf course beyond. Rain lashed at the windows of her home, at times loud enough to drown out the jazz that played in the master bedroom. She stood looking out through the reinforced glass of the balcony doors, her nakedness covered by a floor-length robe. She held a glass of wine in her hand. The room behind her was dark save for the soft glow of a bedside lamp.
Gloria sipped at the white wine, and then turned when the bathroom door opened. Kurt Steiner, the man whom she had shared her bed with that evening, emerged from the light. He had on a long pair of sleeping pants and nothing else. Behind him, the sharp white light of the bathroom was muted by the wall of steam his recent hot shower had created. He rolled into the big bed and slipped under the covers.
"Coming back to bed, Gloria?" he asked in is deep, husky voice. Kurt was a tenured professor at Regal Bay University, one of the true artists who taught at the school. Kurt was a well-known master of the graphite medium, having several hundred of his works copied and hung in offices and home the world over. Although Kurt had dabbled in color, his true skill remained in the basics of pencil-work, blending, and shading. For most of his 57 years Kurt had been a fleeting artist, content with making his works in his own time, in his own style.
Kurt had come to Regal Bay nearly thirty years ago, and in order to pay for his lifestyle, he needed to earn money. To that end, Gloria had offered him the position at the university, through her mother-in-law-in-law of course. Gloria had been fascinated by his works, and with his offer to draw her, the resulting portrait was all the resume she needed. The next drawing of her he did, she had been convinced to pose nude for him. It wasn't until after the work had been completed that Gloria went to his bed.
Gloria and Kurt had been regular lovers since her late-husband's passing. She was a decade older than her, but that never mattered to Kurt. She was but one of several lovers he had, ranging in age from her own 67 years, to the 20-somethings he instructed in the arts at the university. Kurt was one of several men she had, also ranging in age across a couple of generations.
Gloria turned to consider his invitation, but in that moment a bright flash of lightening lit up the sky behind her, silhouetting her. The blast of thunder came a moment later, but she wasn't startled. Instead, she moved away from the balcony doors. As she neared the bed, she dropped the robe away, leaving her nude before her lover. Kurt's eyes took in her well-aged beauty, from the heavy sag of her breasts with their thick, dark nipples pointing towards the foot of the bed, to the dark triangle of the forest at the top of her long, deeply tanned legs. Her long black hair hung well past the small of her back, to tickle the top of her ass-crack as she walked naked to the bed.
Kurt loved the exotic beauty that showed in Gloria. He had drawn her several times over the years, and she was immortalized in two paintings that now hung at the university. A third was in the works at his private studio, destined for a gallery in New York. Of the three, only the one that hung in the university atrium had Gloria in anything other than her naked flesh.
Gloria climbed into the bed from the foot, going to her knees as she went. She moved to straddle Kurt's feet, and as she continued up, she also pulled the sheet away. Beneath, Kurt's manhood had again firmed up and tented the front of the sleep pants her wore. When within her reach, Gloria tugged the pants downward, allowing Kurt's cock to spring upward.
"Twice in one night?" he asked, surprised. "I must have been better than I thought."
As Gloria again straddled his manhood and aligned it with her entry, she grinned down. "I'm just giving you a second chance to satisfy my needs, Kurt," she snickered, and then dropped with ease down the length of the cock that had so recently brought her to back-to-back orgasms. "God, that feels great," she moaned towards the ceiling. Kurt's hands went to her breasts and massaged her flesh as she began to ride him again.
Twenty minutes later, Gloria finally rolled into the mattress beside Kurt. Both were breathing heavily from their exertions. It had been many years since Kurt had managed a second climax of his own, and with Gloria's wonderful vagina milking him, he was now as drained as he'd ever been.
"Christ All-Mighty! That was some of your best work, Gloria," Kurt panted. "What's gotten into you? Why the sudden insatiability?"
Gloria continued to breathe deeply, not answering him until some minutes later. Even then, she only said, "I had a craving, is all. I wanted to get fucked, and you're the only cock in the house right now. So I used you to my satisfaction." Although she wanted to project herself as a bitch sometimes, it rarely came off that way to those around her. Especially to those who knew her best.
"Well, I hope you're satisfied, my lady, for I have withered and fear another round might just be the end of me!" Both laughed at Kurt's attempt at dramatic effect. They curled up tight together and soon fell into a shared slumber. As always, Kurt's dreams were full of abstracts. Colors, figures, shapes. Gloria, on the other hand, often dreamed about her life, most notably her sex-life. At times they were pure imagination. Other times, they were replays of events that held special memories for her.
That night had been the anniversary of the death of her husband, Hugo. At the time, Gloria had only just turned 40. Hugo, just a month away from his 60th birthday, had been declared "in good health" by his doctor. Three weeks later, he died in his sleep. Rumors persisted that he had died "a true man's death", while having sex with Gloria. It was true that they had in fact made love that day, but at the time Hugo died, Gloria had been out with her mother-in-law-in-law Greta. She found him that night when she arrived home.
For all of the shock Hugo's death had been to her, Gloria rarely thought about that night. Instead, she always remembered the good times they shared, with each other or with friends and family. Considering Hugo had been a true sexual deviant and maestro, it was understandable that most of the time Gloria spent remembering her late husband, sex was central in the discussion. Or dream.
That night, Gloria dreamed of her 40th birthday. It had been the last she shared with Hugo. It had been the birthday that he shared her, without himself indulging.
***
