The lead up to Joan's departure was a difficult time for both of us. For her, she was understandably worried about her Mother. For me, well I was just being selfish. The last nine months had been an incredible time for both of us. Not a day went by without us having at least one erotic encounter. Not always full-blown fucking, but at least one of us managed an orgasm once a day -- and we made sure we kept it pretty even. In fact it became a bit of a game, making sure the debits and credits evened out. What was especially good about it was we were just so relaxed with each other, no pressure other than a shared desire to make sure the other person feel good - total mutual satisfaction.
In an attempt to lessen the separation pain at least a little, I convinced Joan to consider the move temporary. Temporary, for how long neither of us knew. But we both clung to that thought and it got us through the last few days before she flew out. That at least made the move to her Mothers easier; I could pack things up and send them to her as needed. So on the day she flew out, all she needed to take was medium sized suitcase. In hindsight, that really didn't help me move on. I had a wardrobe full of Joan's clothes -- a little hard to explain to another woman if I had the chance or the desire to bring one home. For Joan, I think it allowed her to make the move knowing that she had marked her territory so to speak.
As soon as I walked in the door from dropping Joan at the airport I felt completely flat. The house was quiet and empty; I poured myself a Gin and Tonic and sat down to watch the evening news. Even that failed to distract my melancholy thoughts. I don't know how many times I'd done the very same thing over the time Joan was with me, but this time I was very much alone.
I couldn't help but smile to myself, sitting there looking aimlessly at the TV, so many times I'd be sitting there with Joan next to me watching the latest bad news to come out of the Middle East or the latest story on how bad the economy was, when this hand would move across my groin and start to rub my flaccid cock. If Joan didn't get the reaction she wanted she'd hop up and disappear into our bedroom and then come back with an offer I couldn't refuse.
I remember the first time this happened, it was early on in our shared life and as soon as she got up and left the lounge room I thought I'd totally pissed her off, but I really needed to be across what was happening with the economy. So I thought, just let it ride, Joan will cool down. So, there I am watching the news and she walks back into the room. I didn't look up immediately, but out of the corner of my eye I saw a pink flash. When I did look my mouth fell open. Joan had gone into the bedroom and changed, she was now walking towards me bare legs, no panties and with the tightest pink cashmere sweater wrapped tightly to her body. She'd obviously changed her work bra for one that gave maximum lift and separation. She looked like an Amazon sweater girl from the 1950's. She straddled my legs and thrust her massive chest into my face and rubbed her sweater wrapped tits up and down and side to side.
"Now have I got your attention? She giggled. I didn't bother responding I just buried my head into the softness and luxuriated in the feeling. I hadn't changed from work, but between us we somehow managed to get my cock out of my suit pants without disengaging from the sweater beating my face was getting between her gorgeous massive tits. My cock went deep into her soft wet pussy and it stayed there for the next 20 minutes as Joan rode up and down, backwards and forwards on my cock as I sucked, bit and mauled at her big soft tits. She came at least twice whilst doing this, then pulled herself off saying "now you can watch the news." My pants were ruined, soak in her cum.
But tonight, there would be no hand reaching out to caress me, no lips to kiss and no massive breasts to bury my cock in. I wandered into the walk-in wardrobe and looked at Joan's clothes, almost instinctively my hand reached for one of her bras that she had left -- she had so many bras ranging from industrial strength to fine lace half cups. I reached out and felt the voluminous cups of one of her black full cup supportive bras; I lifted it to my face and smelt Joan. I looked at the tag 38K. As I read and re-read the tag, I wondered to myself how was I going to find anyone ever again who could unleash such unashamed passion and emotion.
Feeling miserable I got out of my clothes and threw the bra onto the bed, I then found one of Joan's white angora tops and again inhaled deeply, imagining her delicious body. I lay back on the bed and rubbed the soft sweater across my body down to my hard cock. I reached for the bra and bought it to my face, feeling the material and the heavy under-wire, I closed my eyes and started feeling my cock through the soft, warm material of the sweater as I continued to run her bra across my face. My mind drifted back to the time she first wore this sweater...
It was a brisk spring Saturday morning and we going out to the local markets to shop for groceries. Joan had pulled on a tight woollen skirt, boots with a modest heel and the sweater. She'd tucked the sweater into her skirt, which pulled it tight around her huge chest and then put a 4-inch wide belt around her waist. Underneath the sweater she wore one of her black soft cup bras. As usual, she looked absolutely edible. Joan was always a little conscience of her bum, well what woman isn't? So she threw a waist length jacket on "to hide my big backside" as she used to say. I was actually glad she put the jacket on because looking at her with the tight skirt and sweater had the immediate effect of making me hard. At least with the jacket on I could manage some self-control. I'm sure Joan knew, but if you looked at her chest with anything more than a passing glance you could make out her black bra underneath.
As we walked around the market, pushing the trolley and searching the shelves I started to notice the eyes of everyone we passed, women included, looking at Joan's thrusting chest. She was new to the area, and I'd never seen anything like it myself in the years that I'd been shopping there. I remember quietly saying to Joan, "you seem to be making an impact with the locals." Joan looked mildly panicked as she pulled her jacket lapels together, "Oh, I'm sorry, I should have worn something else." I whispered back "Joanie, you look fucking hot, it's funny seeing the guys falling over themselves." She just smiled, releasing her grip on her jacket and pushed her chest forward, saying "well it's all yours baby."
By the time we got to the check-out there had to be at least a dozen guys with sore arms from the belting their wives or girlfriends had given them for taking not so subtle stares at Joan's stunning assets. The look on the checkout guys face was priceless. We loaded the car and then decided to go for a walk around the shops and grab a coffee at one of the many cafes. It was the same again; guys would be desperately trying to grab sly looks, a couple of the more overt somehow managed to walk past us a couple of times or linger just in front or behind us. To be honest I was a little annoyed but incredibly turned on by it all. Me walking down the street with this attractive mature woman with an enormous thrusting chest. Could I blame any of them? No, I would have done exactly the same. Hell, I had trouble taking my eyes off her, arm in arm I could feel the weight of her heavy breast against me, and when I looked down, I could see her tits shifting with every step.
With those memories in my mind I was lost in the feeling of the angora against my cock and the smell of her bra. I started moaning "Oh, Joan, baby let me fuck you." My cum shot out into the soft material as I bit down on the massive bra cup against my face. I lay there for a moment and thought "fuck, she hasn't even been gone a day and this is what I'm doing."
Over the next four months I threw myself into work to take my mind off the apparent aimlessness of my life without Joan. It actually amazed me that we were actually able to live together for nine months without our personal life being put under the microscope of other co-workers. We did this by not emailing, or contacting each other during the day and only speaking if we happened to run into each other in the coffee room. With Joan living with me I didn't need to try to search her out for my own visual excitement, I'd seen her get dressed in the mornings, so I had no need to try to find her out during the course of the day. But, by days end we were both like dogs in front of a butcher shop window -- desperate to get inside! With Joan on a shift schedule she was home before me most times, which was not a problem, certainly not from my point of view. It allowed time for Joan to do her own thing and, she made coming home something to look forward to.
I never knew what I was going to arrive home to, but invariably it was something interesting. There is nothing like eight hours of sexual repression to focus your libido. One particular evening that stands out in my memory.
As I pulled into the driveway the house appeared to be in complete darkness, if it were not for Joan's car parked in the driveway I would have thought no one was home. I walked in the door and saw a post-it note saying, "STOP, get naked NOW! Come to the bedroom." I immediately striped dropping my clothes where I stood. Candles had been laid out from the front door leading down the hallway to the bedroom. Instinctively, my cock grew hard leading the way to the bedroom.
