Maing Love to Clarice

This is a continuation of Making Love to my Stepson.

You don't have to have read that story to follow this one though.

Kathleen is forty-one-year-old widow, and like everything that I write, this story takes place in a happy alternate reality where people don't worry about std's, or the need for birth control.

Making Love to my Stepson focused on Kathleen having sex with her twenty-nine-year-old stepson enroute to her late husband's funeral. This one will feature what I hope comes across as a tender lesbian encounter in the hours after that funeral between two women in their forties.

The women are the widows of two brothers. They are not related to each other except by marriage. However, if that will impact your enjoyment of the story you might not want to keep reading.

There is also discussion of a funeral and dead husband. I know most read here to escape reality, and I don't wish anyone to be blindsided by that once they start reading, especially if they're struggling with any form of grief.

Thanks for reading!

~~

Then:

I felt tears well up in my eyes and I blinked them away and smiled at him.

"I'm an emotional mess right now." I said with a laugh. "But I feel the same as you. I love you, Eli. And I won't regret any of this either."

"I love you too Kathleen." He said, running his thumb over my cheek.

He held the door open, and I went out into the narrow corridor, and he followed along behind me.

I reached back and he took my hand, and we walked to the dining car like that, as if the two of us holding hands after a night of passionate sex was something we had always done, and would always do.

~

Now:

The funeral was an emotional affair.

But then again, most of them are.

We scattered Michael's ashes on his family's ranch. Michael's brother had died many years ago, but Michael's sister-in-law Clarice continued to live in the old farmhouse on the huge sprawling plot of land, complete with woods and lakes.

Clarice had handled all the arrangements.

The few gathered mourners braved the wintery weather to stand at the edge of the valley with us as we said our goodbyes, and afterwards I rode back to the house with Clarice.

"That was a nice ceremony." I said. "I appreciate you putting that together for us. And I know Elias does as well."

"I'm glad you liked it." Clarice said. "I really didn't want to overstep in planning the service. I appreciate your trusting me to do it."

"You did just fine." I assured her with a smile. "Short and simple and lowkey. It was very fitting for Michael."

"I'm ashamed that I haven't made any time to visit you and Michael over these past several years." She said. "And now it's too late."

We were both staring out the windshield of her SUV as we plodded along over the slow winding dirt path back towards the farmhouse.

"We all live with regrets when someone passes." I said. "The important thing is to savor the people that are still here and celebrate the new memories as they happen."

Clarice looked over at me and smiled, and I couldn't help but smile back.

What Clarice had no way of knowing when she picked Elias and myself up from the train station this morning, was that things had changed between my dead husband's adult son and myself on that trip.

We had always gotten along, but in our shared grief we'd gotten closer. And thanks to a mixed-up reservation Eli hadn't gotten a sleeper car on the train, so I invited him to share mine.

A late-night drink had pulled us even closer, and then something neither of us had anticipated had happened.

We'd made love.

It had been a very erotic and intensely sexual experience, but it was more than sex.

We had shared something besides grief together, and whatever it was had made it emotionally satisfying, along with the physical release we'd given each other.

When we arrived back at the ranch house Clarice took charge of the meal, and the neighbors and friends who had contributed food stayed and visited for a few hours.

They all told stories about Mike that had us all laughing and crying and glad to be in shared company.

But at long last most of the food was gone, the early winter evening had descended, and the last of the guests had departed.

Eli had retreated down to the remodeled basement apartment to take a shower and watch a movie, and Clarice and I found ourselves alone in the kitchen doing dishes.

"Thank you for all of this Clarice." I told her. "I can't imagine having to face all of this without you."

"I'm glad to do it." She said. "You meant the world to Michael, and I'm so happy that you got to bring so much joy to his life."

"He brought me lots of joy as well." I smiled. "I was as lucky as he was. Probably even luckier."

"I only wish I'd gotten to know you better. I always let the miles be an excuse, and I kept promising myself I'd visit and fix that." She said.

"You can still visit." I assured her. "In fact, I'd love it."

"I may take you up on that sometime." She said. "I've been lonely and bored to death out here these last several years. Being financially stable enough to not have to hustle to keep the ranch afloat is nice, but getting to a new city to visit and get laid might be just the thing I need."

She stopped suddenly as if she'd said something wrong.

"Oh Kathleen." She said softly turning to look at me. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to.....that was rude....I was out of place.....I'm sorry."

"For what?" I asked. "I'm certainly in favor of sex. Just because my husband died doesn't mean I've forgotten how satisfying a good fuck can be."

"I'm glad." She said, looking relieved. "I guess I just felt like I'd said something terribly insensitive."

"It will only be insensitive if you come to visit and get laid, and then you don't come across with some details." I told her with a smile. "I'm not sure what my future sex life will look like, so I may have to live vicariously through yours."

"At this point mine is total fantasy." She said. "I'd love someone close to me to have something I could experience, even vicariously."

"Seriously?" I blurted, wondering if it was my turn to cross a line.

"I'm lonely and horny, and every night I crawl into bed alone." She said, with a faraway look in her eyes. "If it wasn't for my detachable showerhead, I'd be completely unfulfilled. As it is I'd just label myself as 'mostly' unfulfilled."

"This might sound strange." I said. "Coming from someone you don't know that well, but you should get yourself a vibrator. They're not as good as a man, but they don't lose momentum and fall asleep before you have an orgasm either."

"I've always wanted one of those." She said with a giggle. "I'd be too embarrassed to buy one though."

"I'll buy you one and send it to you." I said. "Consider it my way of thanking you for your hospitality. Their only real drawback is that they can't cuddle with you after you're done. Orgasms are always better with someone to share them with."

"I think I miss that the most." She said softly. "Someone there with me when I..."

She suddenly seemed to realize what she was saying and blushed.

"I know what you mean." I told her. "Pleasure you can share is pleasure more deeply enjoyed."

"I didn't mean to.....I'm so sorry....you must think I'm some sort of deviant...." She stammered.

"Not at all!" I assured her. "I had a lot of lonely years between my first husband and Michael. I had a friend who understood the importance of physical closeness. That and my vibrator helped me get through the worst of it."

"Sounds like he was a good friend." She said quietly.

"It was a woman." I said, unsure why I was telling her that. "It wasn't really romantic or anything. We'd just cuddle together and touch each other and be there for each other."

"Like a friend with benefits?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"More like a masturbation buddy." I said with a grin. "Although sometimes we'd get carried away and move from touching ourselves to touching each other."

She blushed and looked away for several seconds, busying herself by putting soap into the dishwasher and setting the timer on it.

I was wondering if I had overshared when she turned around and stepped close to me.

"About the vibrator." She whispered. "I take it you own one?"

"I own three." I said, lowering my voice, even though I was sure Eli was still in the basement. "And I expect I'll be using them even more frequently in the coming months than ever before."

"Three?" she whispered. "Did Mike know?"

"He helped me pick the newest one out." I said with a smile. "He loved watching me use them. Or using them on me."

"Boy I'm glad he met you." She said, reaching out to pat my arm. "I wish you lived closer. I need a friend like you."

I smiled at her.

"I'll get you a vibe or two." I told her with a wink. "But we'll have to start visiting each other more frequently if you want to be masturbation buddies."

Once again she blushed furiously.

"You must be exhausted." She said. "Especially after that long trip. Maybe we could continue talking tomorrow."

"I'd like that." I said. "I am ready to fall asleep standing up."

"Let me show you to your room so you can get settled."

~

I turned off the light and got under the covers, shivering with pleasure as I felt the weight of all the blankets on the full-size bed in the third floor guest room.

Eli was staying down in the basement, and Clarice and I were upstairs. She'd let me use the shower in her bedroom to clean up before turning in, and now with the stress of day behind me I finally relaxed.

After two nights with Eli on the train I was looking forward to some time alone to think.

I didn't feel any guilt for having sex with my stepson. We were both adults, and as far as I was concerned, we were both entitled to have sex with anyone we damn well pleased.

I know there were people who would judge me for having sex with someone so soon after the death of my husband, but Michael and I had both had high sex drives throughout our marriage, and I knew he'd want me to enjoy life.

Besides, orgasms caused by someone else didn't diminish any of the hundreds of ways life with him had been fulfilling and pleasurable.

Eli had always struck me as a very grounded and realistic person, so I wasn't too worried that two nights with me would cause him to develop some sort of crush on me or begin to make long term plans for a future with me.

On the other hand, I cared very deeply for him, and I knew he cared for me.

Perhaps something more than just sex would come from our sharing pleasure together. It might be just a deepening of our friendship. Or it might redefine our relationship into something even more meaningful.

I smiled in the dark, deciding that the best way to deal with my evolving relationship with Eli was to just take it one day at a time.

We'd agreed that we would hit the pause button on touching each other or kissing or talking about whatever had happened until we were on the way home.

Maybe we'd decide together to chalk what had happened up to shared grief. Maybe we'd play some more and call each other friends with sexual benefits. Or maybe more would develop.

Whatever happened, as long as both of us were clear about what we could offer each other, and what we needed or wanted, we'd be able to navigate it just fine.

I snuggled deeper into the bed, pleased with my conversation with Clarice. There'd always been a distance between us, and I'd assumed it was due to the fact that I'd never met her husband before he passed away. I would always be the new kid in class so to speak.

But suddenly with something in common she'd not only stepped up and handled the details but had been a strong support when I needed one the most.

I'd felt that our relationship had shifted, not just by the shared bond of grief, but by the sisterly giggling about vibrators and sex.

I almost hadn't shared about the friend that I masturbated with, but I'd sensed that she needed some encouragement that her desires and drives weren't a bad thing to be hidden, but a good thing to be embraced.

Who knows what sort of small-town nonsense she'd been raised to believe?

And I'd meant what I'd offered about buying and sending her a vibrator.

Every woman deserved orgasms. Even if she had to get them for herself.

I felt a pleasing warmth between my legs and I realized that my thoughts of Eli, and vibrators, and memories of masturbating with my friend Kim had stirred my body in a physical way.

I turned onto my side and looked out at the big pole light mounted on the barn out in the yard. I could see big fat snowflakes drifting down in the halo of light, and that made this guest room seem extra cozy and warm.

I decided I was too tired to masturbate, but as I closed my eyes, I pushed my hand down and up under my nightgown, cupping myself through my panties, prepared to drift off to sleep with the satisfying pressure of my hand against my warm cunt.

~

I was pulled from my an almost deep sleep when I felt the bed shift as someone sat on the edge of it, and I wondered if Eli had snuck up here.

I'd have welcomed his mouth and hands on my body, but we'd agreed to wait and talk before taking any more steps in this direction, and the possibility of us getting caught here was too great to risk.

I wasn't sure Clarice would understand me having sex with my own stepson on the evening of my husband's funeral.

I rolled over and in the darkness, I realized that it wasn't Eli sitting on the foot of the bed.

It was Clarice.

"Is everything alright?" I asked her, raising my head.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" she asked in a whisper.

"I was almost asleep." I admitted. "But that's alright. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She said. "I just....I was....I couldn't...."

She was stammering again, and I was certain that if I turned on the light I'd find her blushing.

"I just wanted to make sure you had enough blankets." She said.

"I'm fine." I assured her, smiling in the dark. "Thank you."

"Okay." She said. "Good."

She got up and moved toward the door.

"Clarice." I whispered. "Wait."

She turned back towards me, and I searched the dark for her eyes.

"You can stay and talk a bit if you like." I said gently.

For several seconds she didn't move, and then she returned to the foot of the bed.

"Come on up here." I motioned, moving so I could sit with my back against the headboard. "Be comfortable."

"Thanks." She said. "I hope I'm not intruding."

"You're a welcome intrusion." I assured her. "I could sit here and watch the snow all night. It's so quiet and peaceful. It will be nice to have someone to sit with for a few minutes."

"It always makes me feel lonely." She said. "Alone at night looking out at the sky like this."

"Well you're not alone right now." I said softly, reaching out and taking her hand.

We sat quietly like that for a few minutes, her hand stiff and awkward in mine at first, but then she relaxed and without moving her hand seemed to be holding mine just a bit tighter.

"Clarice?" I asked quietly. "Did you really come up here to check on my blankets?"

"No." she said. "I just....I was just....I don't know."

I moved closer to her and our shoulders touched gently, and then we each moved again and we were leaning against each other like we'd been sitting that way for years.

"It's okay." I said. "You don't have to say it if you don't want to. Or if you're not even sure. We can be the kind of friends where things don't always need to be said. We have enough shared history even if we don't know each other that well."

"I need a friend like that." She said. "Like you were talking about downstairs. I'm just so....lonely. What you talked about. I need something like that so much. More than need. It's like a...yearning."

I put my head on her shoulder.

"Have you ever had a friend like that?" I whispered.

"Do my fingers count?" she asked softly with a shy smile.

I giggled and squeezed her hand.

"What do you want right now?" I whispered. "Right now, in this moment. More than anything?"

"I shouldn't be here." She said. "Michael's funeral was today."

"We're both here." I said. "Right now, if you could have anything, what would you want?"

"Not to be alone right now." She whispered, her breath warm on my face.

"I don't want to be alone right now either." I whispered back.

"I don't want to.....I don't want you to think I'm a bad person." She whispered, and I realized she was trembling. "I don't want you to hate me."

"I won't hate you." I said softly, brushing her cheek with my fingers. "I understand what you want right now. What you need."

"You do?" she asked.

"You need a friend right now." I said softly. "Right?"

She nodded, and in the dim reflected light from the yard her eyes looked huge.

I moved slightly and she pressed her lips against mine.

They were soft and warm, and the kiss was easy and gentle, with our mouths closed as we moved softly and slowly.

And then I opened my mouth a little and leaned towards her, and her arms wrapped around my shoulders and I pulled her close to me, her leg moving over my body so that she was straddling me.

She shuddered against me and I pulled her close, my fingers against her cotton nightgown as she pushed her tongue into my mouth.

I bit gently at her tongue, before using my own to lick at her lips as we both started to breathe harder.

She pulled back a few inches and I kissed her neck, being careful not to bite but instead concentrating on licking at her sensitive skin there while she shivered against me and ran her fingers through my hair.

I pulled her with me and rolled over in the bed, squirming around until we were both laying on the bed with the covers over us.

I moved against her again, and pressed my body against hers as I lowered my mouth to hers. She pushed up against me as I kissed her, and I put my hand against her hip.

As we'd rolled over her nightgown had ridden up and now my hand was against her bare flesh.

"Oh, oh god." She panted.

"Can I taste your breasts?" I asked her softly, rubbing gently at her hip as I felt her start to move back and forth slowly with me.

"Do you want to?" she asked.

Instead of answering I pulled her nightgown up and lowered my head to her breast.

I licked gently underneath it and then drug my tongue up the swell of her milky flesh. I moved slowly and kissed gently as I went, tasting her skin and feeling her body twist against me as she whimpered softly and clung to me.

At long last I felt the ridge of her areola against my tongue.

I stiffened my tongue and moved it around, using it to feel around the areola, loving the sound of her breath catching as she gasped with pleasure as I licked circles around her nipple without actually making contact with it.

Her hand went to my back and she started to move it gently up and down.

I moved my head and licked and kissed my way across to her other breast, repeating the long wet process of tonguing every bit of her aroused flesh without touching her nipple.

After several minutes I moved back to her left breast, repeating my motions over and over and over before kissing my way to the right one again.

"That....that....that feels...sooooo......" she groaned, unable to catch her breath.

I moved back to her left breast and kissed her nipple softly, before taking it in my teeth and flicking my tongue back and forth across it.

Her hand stopped moving on my back and she pulled at me, as if trying to get my body closer to hers.

I moved my fingers to her wet nipple and began to pull gently like I was milking it while I moved to her other nipple and sucked it as hard as I could.

She bucked wildly on the bed, and suddenly I was gripped by the fear that she was going to scream.