As a young girl having been raised in a rather strict religious environment the subject of sex was never to be discussed. However, as a typical curious teenager I had done the obligatory fumbling around with a couple of boys in high school - kissing touching nothing more. It felt quite nice but nothing breathtaking.
Then in my sophomore year of college I met and almost immediately fell in love with Tom. Tom and I were on the university's swim teams. He was tall, athletically lean and extremely sexy in his Speedo. There was an undeniable chemistry between the two of us and by graduation we were married.
My twenty-two-year-long marriage with Tom was just about perfect. We shared so very much together. We skied, played tennis and golf. We both loved sports - especially baseball; classical music and opera; travel; fine dining and wine; art museums; old movies; and best of all - we loved each other! More importantly we were the best of friends anxious just to be together enjoying each other's company!
It was a wonderful time for the two of us. We were both professionals so money was never an issue and our two children, fraternal twins, were a delight - from infancy through teenage to maturity.
The only somewhat disappointing aspect of our lives together was in the bedroom. My girlfriends had told me all about how thrilling and exciting sex was supposed to be. I did find the intimacy pleasurably stimulating but sex with Tom never really approached thrilling or exciting!
Although I had nothing to compare it with, I had a feeling something was lacking! Frequency was not an issue - but naturally even that tapered off over the years. Our sex life consisted almost exclusively of conventional vanilla missionary intercourse. Tom never lasted more than a few minutes and invariably, after his orgasm, he would roll over and was quickly asleep unaware of my needs or desires.
We tried oral but Tom's concept was a couple of quick licks then he expected me to do him - which didn't particularly excite either of us. I felt uncomfortable trying to explain my suspicion to him that there could be more, to convince him that things might be different for me, but he just wasn't able to comprehend. Apparently he'd been taught that sex was primarily for procreation. Otherwise, for women it was an obligation, not something from which we were meant to experience pleasure.
In an attempt to find out if there was indeed something I was missing, on occasion, I even secretly attempted masturbation but my fingers were unsatisfying and I was too embarrassed to bring any toys into the house. An affair was not a consideration! I loved Tom and I would never jeopardize our marriage by cheating merely because of his ignorance in our bedroom. I resigned myself to accept that this was the best I could expect and I was OK with that as sex was never a major priority in our otherwise spectacular relationship.
Three years ago, Tom became gravely ill and in only a matter of weeks he succumbed to his disease and sadly passed away. Our wonderful marriage was abruptly cut short and I was now a widow on my own.
My next-door neighbor of fifteen years and dearest friend Sharon, about my age, had been a great comfort to me in the months after Tom passed. Gratefully, she was always there for me - instrumental in easing me through my depression. Over the years we had become very close and could confide in each other about anything and everything.
I never cared much for Sharon's husband Jeff. He was arrogant, self-centered and almost never nice to her. Recently she and her emotionally abusive husband had finally gone through a well-advised divorce. Fortunately, they had no children so she was left financially well off and on her own as well.
Judging by the frequency of times there were cars parked in her driveway overnight Sharon was enjoying the singles scene! And the reasons were obvious - Sharon was gorgeous! With her dark seductive eyes, long black silky hair, tanned body and superb athletic, but voluptuously feminine figure, she would have no problem attracting any man.
It was now three years since the love of my life passed. Our twins were old enough to be out on their own. My son had taken up residence in Australia and my daughter lived with her husband on the west coast so I was now by myself in what was once a vibrant, loving, family home.
I had stayed in good shape, using the exercise machines we had at home, and my weight was now basically the same as prior to my pregnancies although my breasts remained the same size as when I was nursing. With my curly naturally blonde hair, blue eyes, white skin and curvaceous figure I suppose I still looked appealing. At least that's what I was told.
I had gone through all the stages of grieving and at long last been more or less able to accept the sudden loss of Tom. My children and Sharon kept insisting that I was still too young not to be interested in some sort of relationship, including the physical aspects that went along with that. They were right. I really did miss male companionship and intimacy but I just wasn't comfortable going out with some guy I barely knew as it felt as if I was betraying Tom.
For over three years I had not so much as spent a quiet evening, a dinner, or even a movie with a man, let alone anything physical, and had no idea where to start! Nonetheless, at their urging I did consider going on a date a few times but I didn't feel any connection with any of the men who asked. The problem was I kept comparing those probably very nice fellows to my extraordinary Tom.
I had naturally discussed the situation of my love life (or lack thereof) with Sharon. She assured me that the enjoyment of sex applied to both men and women but most women aren't fully satisfied through intercourse alone. Always trying to help, she suggested I check out some adult sites on the Internet, which I must admit was quite enlightening. She even bought me a vibrator but the Internet was basically too crude and vulgar for me to enjoy and the vibrator too artificial and mechanical for me to even experiment with.
As the only person I had ever 'been with' was Tom my sole concept of 'marital relations' was based on my experience with my unenlightened husband. Despite everything I suggested to him during all our twenty-two years of marriage, followed by three years of celibacy, judging by what I was led to believe, it seems that for all those twenty-five years I had yet to experience an orgasm!
Actually, I didn't know what all the fuss was about! That didn't seem to matter much as Tom and I had been extremely happy together! A somewhat unfulfilling (albeit quite pleasurable) few minutes in bed from time to time was insignificant compared to all the other wonderful life experiences we enthusiastically shared!
Nevertheless, here I was - a still attractive energetic forty-five year-old widow with no baggage and also with no prospects!
Despite Sharon's rather busy schedule we managed to spend as much time together as possible enjoying each other's company.
One unusually sultry Sunday afternoon in June, as neither of us had any plans, Sharon invited me to drop over to her place and spend the afternoon, just the two of us, enjoying the cool water of her pool. We splashed around for a bit and then relaxed on the lounge chairs by the pool sipping a perfectly chilled bottle of Chenin Blanc and nibbling on a wedge of Cambozola.
After a while Sharon nonchalantly removed the top of her two-piece bathing suit. She said "I hope you don't mind but recently I most often sunbathe at least topless as the pool area is completely fenced in and no one could possibly see!"
But I could see! Although I had always admired the human form, I never had any desire for female contact but Sharon's large full breasts would be an enticement to either sex! We continued our friendly afternoon together while I tried to ignore her nakedness but couldn't help glancing over at her from time to time.
All too soon Sharon mentioned that she had a dinner date and had to get ready. So, we cleaned up the glasses and plates and I went back to my place - for yet another humdrum evening by myself.
A couple of weeks later, at Sharon's persistence, I finally accepted a date with someone I had met at a conference. As expected, it was a disaster. As soon as he had picked me up and we were in his car he had his hands all over me - on my legs, arms and he even tried to grope my chest. Why would a man simply assume that a once-married woman was open game and could be manhandled at his whim?
No sooner had we sat down for dinner but he had his hand running up and down my thigh under the table trying to slide up my dress. After removing his hand for the umpteenth time, I excused myself to go to the lady's room, phoned an Uber, and was home before seven O'clock.
As the driver was dropping me off I was surprised to see Sharon pull into her driveway. I waved to her and she walked over to my place. It seemed her date was as equal a catastrophe as mine. Sharon said that he had alcohol on his breath when they met at the restaurant. (Sharon, very cleverly, always drove herself on a first-time date with a guy - just in case.) By the time the appetizer was served, he was pretty well drunk. She got out of there as soon as she could. He was so far gone she wasn't even sure he realized she had left.
We went inside and as neither of us had an opportunity to eat dinner I ordered a pizza and opened a couple of bottles of beer. We sat on the couch in the living room and kicked off our heels. (Why do women's sexy shoes have to be so uncomfortable?)
Once finished eating the pie and were laughing off our lousy dates I suddenly became depressed and started to cry. My life was such a mess! Get up each morning; straighten up the house; go to my office; come home to an empty house; eat dinner by myself; go to bed - alone. Same routine over and over again day after day. Even the weekends weren't any better with no work to occupy my time and no man to share anything with!
Sharon sat next to me on the couch and blotted the tears from my face with a napkin. She said all the right things to try to get me out of my funk -- 'I was quite attractive, I was still young, I was bright, Mr. right will surely come along, etc. etc.' I tried to compose myself but I still felt that I was doomed to being a spinster sitting in front of the TV by myself growing old and miserable.
I drank my beer and tried to stop whimpering. Sharon, trying to console me, patted my arm and then ran her hand to my face and with a finger wiped away the last of my tears. I lay my cheek in her hand. Her touch was caring and gentle. She looked up at me, and after a few moments of making eye contact unexpectedly, tenderly, touched her lips to mine. Although her kiss seemed more one of concerned friendship than sexual, in disbelief I drew back.
