This work has been written by INKENT and published solely on the Literotica platform. I have no issues with re-writes if someone fancy's it or extending the tale, but please let me know if you see this crop up on any other platform. I'm sure that any other author on here would appreciate the same courtesy too.
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Somewhere around the age of nineteen/twenty I had a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I fucked a red-hot MILF who had come on to me out of the blue. You want to hi-five me for this? Back then, I would have done exactly that. Now, I wish I had a time machine to go back and stop it happening.
The MILF was one of my mum's friends, my mum had asked me to pop in there as I was working up her way and drop something off. She made me a drink, then ten minutes later she was all over me, a real, sex-starved MILF. An hour later I was on my way home, wondering what the hell had happened.
As years ticked by, I pieced together exactly what had happened. Around a year earlier, her child had died, a generic issue that had passed through her side of the family. It transpired her husband couldn't come to terms, putting the blame squarely on her shoulders, and simply pulled back into his shell, taking all emotions and feeling for his wife with him.
That lack of love surfaced that day I went to her house. It wasn't sex she was after, it was love, someone to show a sliver of love to her, and to do that, she had used sex. It turned out she started having young men around whilst her husband was at work, until everything inevitably imploded. From the things my mum told me she went downhill, on a trip of sex, alcohol and drugs until she died of an overdose, not that many years later. I so wish, If only I had the head on my shoulder that I have now, how differently I could have handled the situation back then. Maybe I could have saved her.
This is a fictious tale, fictious people. It is not a documentary or a docu-soap, it tries to explore how loss can affect a relationship, how not finding a way to deal with terrible things can start to tear a relationship apart.
If you have lost someone, especially a child, possibly avoid this story, I would rather warn you now, than let you get part way in before realising some of the subject matter.
I'm a Brit, so this one is English, English. I'm going to have a go at writing a couple of stories that are entirely US based, in US English. Should be fun to write, hopefully surfacing soon.
Lastly thanks to TIM1135 for doing some serious work after my initial writeup. As usual, I've fiddled afterward, typically to re-write sections to align to edit suggestions. Those cock-ups are all mine! I'll doff my cap for ALL the editors out there!
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Have Faith? Don't Mind If I Do!
Faith sat at her desk, looking at herself in her compact mirror for the third time in the last half an hour. It was nerves that made her do it. In the mirror, she could see the crow's feet that had formed around her eyes over the last few years, no doubt the stress caused by the tragedy that had befallen her family, had accelerated her ageing.
Putting the mirror away, she looked out of her office window that overlooked the River Thames, close to Tower Bridge. She was deep in thought when she was interrupted by one of the director's voices.
"Hello Faith, let me introduce Toby Scott-Phillips, our new Property Acquisition and Merger Manager. If you don't mind, I'll leave Toby in your capable hands for you to introduce him to the team."
Toby was Faith's new boss; she had applied for the job but, knew her chances were slim. Toby was the nephew of the Finance director so, he became the newest member of Allcott and Thomson, a big-league legal company specialising in the affairs of the rich, famous and large corporations. His team specialised in dealing with the legalities around the sale of businesses, mergers and acquisitions.
He sat opposite her. Toby was a tall man and fairly well built, but not fat. Filled out, would be a good term. What surprised her was his voice, it had a gravelled tone when he spoke. The looks and voice went together. Ray Winstone. Yes, Ray Winstone, the actor. He drew broad similarities to him.
[------------------]
In a conference room shortly after their introduction, Faith introduced the team to Toby. He outlined his plans and how his gut feeling was that they would strive to build upwards upon the rock-solid foundations of the business portfolio already in place. Everyone left the meeting upbeat. There was some whispered gossip amongst some of the women and it was nothing associated with work.
Faith sat at her desk. There was something familiar about Toby, she felt sure she'd met him before but, where? It bugged her throughout the day and she eventually put it down to likely crossing paths at a seminar or corporate event.
At the end of the day, she took the Docklands light railway back to their apartment in in Greenwich. Her husband, Ibrahim, had beaten her home today so, she was greeted by the amazing smell of various spices that were the mainstay of the amazing vegetable dishes he could concoct.
[------------------]
Ibrahim had been born in this part of London although it was in Woolwich, close to the free ferry crossing. Brought up on a council estate, he considered himself one of the lucky ones that didn't drift into a world of crime. His saviour came in the form of athletics. He found he excelled at running, with the 10,000-metre becoming his choice event. Twenty-three years ago, it had proven to be a sage choice. He won a gold medal at the Olympics.
It was at that Olympics he met his wife, Faith Adams. Faith was born during the Kenyan Garissa Massacre which took place at the Garissa Primary School football pitch. The local population were held for three days without water or food and over three thousand people, including her parents, perished. Against all odds, a new-born baby survived and was adopted by an English couple who were aid workers. Her adopted parents named her Faith. Faith, that one day, the world would stop seeing needless tragedies like had befallen their adopted daughter's family.
[------------------]
Faith removed her coat, walked over to Ibrahim and kissed him on the cheek. He turned and reciprocated, kissing her on the cheek too.
"Can you lay the table please Faith, should be ready in a jiffy. By the way, how'd it go...with the new boss?"
"Seems decent enough, at least he isn't some pompous upper-class idiot that is full of himself. He gave a little motivational speech to us all but, I'm sure that some of the girls felt motivated in other ways."
"Oh...and why's that?"
"There was lots of girly chatter through the day. At lunchtime, they were cackling away in the canteen and I overheard Monica say she'd need to bring some spare knickers tomorrow. You know how she has no filter. I'm sure it'll die down."
"So, new office pinup boy then. What we got? a Brad Pitt, Jason Statham, Hugh Grant look alike?"
"That's the thing...no. He reminds me of Ray Winstone, the actor. He looks and sounds more like he'd be selling dodgy cars on a lot than dealing with the intricate details of working within our legal system. I was gutted I didn't get the job but, he does have a decent work track record. The funny thing is, I'm sure we've met before but, I can't place when or where. It's not important...I'm sure it'll come to me one day."
[------------------]
Ibrahim served dinner. As they ate, he asked the question that the limited discussion had led him to form in his mind. Suddenly stopping, with the fork midway through the motion between the plate and his mouth, he spoke;
"Did he get your motor running too?"
"He's not my cup of tea Ibrahim. Have you ever seen me lust after a white boy? Now, if he was a Denzel Washington lookalike, it could be a different matter!"
He smiled at her and continued eating. Faith was bemused by the question. He had never, at least as far back as she could remember, asked her if she found another man attractive. It made her feel uneasy. The relationship between her and Ibrahim had been bombproof and she always thought it couldn't be breached. But a breach had occurred, a fissure had been growing since '
it
' happened.
[------------------]
Faith had met Ibrahim at numerous track events when they were both in their late teens in the couple of years before they were both selected to represent Great Britain at the Olympics. At the Olympics, they both struck gold, literally and metaphorically. Winning gold medals in their respective events, they became the British darlings of the Olympics.
Faith, the black woman born in Kenya, brought up as the daughter of a white middle-class family. Ibrahim, born in England, he was brought up by his parents on a London council estate who'd come to the United Kingdom from the Ivory Coast. It was a match made in media heaven and they found themselves in the limelight, long after the Olympics finished.
The metaphorical gold was, they found each other. At the closing out Olympic party, their relationship, which had been growing like a well-tended plant, spouted into something serious. Within weeks of coming home, news of a pregnancy created a further media frenzy.
Their son, Jacob, was the outcome of their celebratory night at the ceremony, taking after his dad in stature and track abilities. He was predicted to be another family gold medal winner when he suddenly collapsed halfway through a race. Nobody knew he had inherited a genetic heart defect from Faith's linage and died that day on the running track, leaving behind two distraught parents.
[------------------]
That was three years ago and once they had comforted and supported each other after
'it'
happened, something changed in the dynamics of their relationship. It was a partial disconnection of the feelings for each other, as if the love they had previously felt had somehow, been numbed. They never really discussed it but, both felt it within themselves and it had started to get worse, not better.
They used to have a really great sex life. It wasn't uncommon to make love well into the early hours of a weekend. They explored and knew each other bodies intimately. They understood what made the other tick sexually and this created an ability to lead each other to sexual nirvana.
When they started to make love after
'it'
