"A peony for your thoughts!" A soft voice spoke near me, breaking me out of my daydream. It was Eleanor Carter from the flower stall next to my location at the Farmer's Market. She was holding a beautiful, deep magenta flower, out to me. I reached over the display of organic tomatoes and took the offering.
"Thanks Eleanor." I responded to the pretty young woman as I took the flower from her. I had a little bit of water left in a bottle so I slipped the stem inside and sat it on top of my display.
"You were thinking about her again, weren't you?" She said, more as a statement than a question. The pity in her eyes was comforting, and irritating, at the same time. I wanted to move past the death of my wife, but it was so hard. So damn hard.
"Yeah." I admitted. "Thanks for caring. I'm glad somebody does."
"We all care Mr. Darling." She said. Sensing that I didn't want to talk, she turned and walked the short distance back to her stall. She stopped to adjust some of the flower arraignments that her family had out for sale. The Neanderthal instinct in me forced me to check out her twenty year old form, not that there was a whole lot to see.
Eleanor came from a very strict Pentecostal family. She and her mother both wore long skirts with loose, long sleeved blouses, every day, rain or shine, hot or cold. Their long blond hair was always up in a severe bun and neither of them ever wore any makeup. Even so, they were pretty women, with ice blue eyes and Scandinavian features. When they stood up straight you could see that there was some considerable flesh hiding under those loose blouses and I had noticed that Eleanor's skirt was filled out rather well below her waist. But those thoughts just led me to think about Claire...
...It was the summer before the diagnosis. It was July 5th to be exact, because I remember that we got up late because we had gone to town to see the fireworks the night before. It wasn't a market day, so I was hoeing around the tomatoes while Claire picked beans. When it got hot she would often wear a light sundress and it was always my favorite way for her to dress. I looked up from hoeing and was treated to a view straight down the drooping neck of her dress. Her pointy little breasts were hanging down so invitingly, the pink nipples coming almost to a sharp little point. She noticed that I wasn't hoeing and looked at me.
"Get back to work Mr. D." She said with a laugh, although she didn't make any move to hide the view.
I blew her a kiss and went back to work, although it was bit uncomfortable with the swelling in my pants. When I looked up again she had her back to me and I was treated to a view of her firm ass covered by the yellow cotton of her dress. My cock swelled even more. I laid down my hoe and moved up behind her. Grabbing her by the hips I pressed my crotch into her ass.
"Oh my!" She exclaimed as my cock pressed into the crack of her ass. "Is that a cucumber in your pocket or are you glad to see me?" She joked with a giggle.
"It is most definitely not a cucumber." I whispered into her ear is I leaned over and slipped a hand inside the arm hole of her dress. I palmed one of her soft, hanging breasts and felt her nipple harden to my touch. She let out a low moan and the sack full of picked beans she had picked fell to the ground.
"Oh God, you make me wet every time you touch me Scott." Claire moaned as I kneaded her tit. My other hand reached around and rubbed hard atop the mound of her pussy. "Take me now. Right now!" She almost screamed in her sudden need.
Claire's hands reached back and fumbled with my belt as I raised the hem of her dress up over her ass. She was wearing thin white panties that were so old they were almost see-through. With a yank I torn them from her body and tossed them into the bean patch. Claire whimpered in anticipation as I pulled my cock out of my jeans. She spread her legs and grabbed her ankles as I lined my cock up with her dripping cunt.
"Fuck me good, baby." She said. "I need it bad." She looked back over her shoulder and her eyes were smoldering with lust. Her eyes closed and her mouth opened as I slid my cock into her in one smooth motion.
"Fuck, you're soaked!" I blurted as I began to fuck her hard. She made no reply except to grunt each time my ball sack slapped audibly against her swollen clit. I held her hips tight as I slammed into her, giving her a hard, fast fuck; just the way she likes it when she gets this way. As I pounded her, her yellow dress slid down her back until it was bunched up around her neck. With one hand she pulled it over her head and dropped it to the ground. That hand didn't go back to her ankle, it went instead to her tits where she began to squeeze and pull her nipples.
"Oh yeah, here it comes! Here it comes! Don't stop baby, don't stop!" She cried out as her release approached. I began to feel my balls tighten too and I knew that we would come together standing amid the green beans on our small homestead farm. With a couple of last, hard thrusts the damn burst and I flooded her with my seed just as I felt her cunt clamp down on me as her own orgasm began. The rhythmic pulsing of her muscles seemed to milk my cock dry as I struggled to hold us both upright as we savored the feelings. As I felt her orgasm retreat, I helped her stand up and then I picked her up in my arms. Without a word, I carried my naked wife to the house.
I smiled as I remembered that the hoeing didn't get finished and the beans didn't get picked that day. "You're doing it again!" I heard Eleanor call from her stall. I looked up with a smile. "It must have been a good memory this time," she said, "you were smiling."
I nodded back at her. "It was." I replied. "A very good memory this time."
"That's what you need to remember." Eleanor replied. "Remember the good times. That's what Claire would want."
I nodded again but before I could reply a customer came up to my stand. I stayed steadily busy the rest of the morning and early afternoon and I didn't get a chance to talk to Eleanor again until the Market closed up at 3:00 pm. It always took Eleanor less time to pack up her flowers than it did my vegetables so by the time she caught up with me she was ready to go but I was still packing unsold squash into travel crates.
"Mr. Darling, can ask a favor of you?" She asked as I was toting a crate of squash out to my truck.
"Sure sweetie, what can I do for you?" I replied.
"Mom and dad are going to the flower show in Chicago Saturday," she began, "actually, mom is going and she's making dad go with her. But, anyway we've got a pre-packed shipment arriving here at opening on Saturday but I have to take mom and dad to the airport. Can you sign for it and set them out on the empty rack? I'll bring everything else early and all you'll have to do is set them out and watch the stall for me for a little while."
She knew I would do it. Her family and I have been watching each other's stuff for years when one or the other had to run an errand or something on Market day. "No problem Eleanor. Tell your folks to have a nice trip."
"Thanks, you're great Mr. Darling!" She said. With a wave she jumped into the old pickup that they used to bring flowers to and from the market and drove off. I waved and went back in to finish packing up my produce.
**************
The Farmer's market doesn't officially open until 7:00 AM, but old Bert who watches the place (and lives in an old RV behind the main building) lets us regulars in early to set up. I got to the market at about 6:15 that Saturday morning and Bert was already sitting in a lawn chair by the gate drinking a cup of coffee.
"Marnin' Scott." The old man drawled over the rim of his cup. "Look's to be fine day, don'cha think?"
"Yep, sure do." I said, slipping easily into a version of the local vernacular. "Bet it'll be right hot by midday though."
"Yep." Bert acknowledged. "By the by, young Eleanor said ta remind ya that thars a truck comin' this marnin'."
"I remember." I replied. "Have a good'un Bert."
"Ya too Scott." He replied as I drove my truck through the gate.