Making A Widow Happy

Gerald loved the feel of the splitting axe as he drove it into the 18-inch long chunks of maple log. In spite of the on-and-off November drizzle, he was happy. Yesterday, his mom, Dorothy, had served a generous and tasty Thanksgiving dinner - turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes and more. All finished off with homemade pumpkin pie for dessert. Gerald thought his mom was a great cook and mother. A single mother since the divorce when Gerald was a toddler, she had supported them both and even managed to buy the house in rural Dansford (where prices were phenomenally lower than in Evanston, the county seat of Arona County and largest city in the county). Living in a little out-of-the way village had disadvantages, but Gerald knew that otherwise, they would not have been able to afford a house and he made the best of it.

Uncle Art and Aunt Rose had joined them to make a pleasant foursome. Uncle Art, Dorothy's only brother, a home renovation contractor in Elmira, never really liked Gerald's decision to go to Gannon University in preparation for entering the seminary. Art, however, now seemed to have accepted the fact that he would have neither grandnephews nor grandnieces.

Dorothy, an LPN at the Arona County Hospital, was at work on that Friday after Thanksgiving. Holiday weekend or not, folks still got sick, stayed sick, had babies and accidents and somebody had to care for them. Before leaving for work, she had made them a hearty breakfast of eggs, toast, bacon and coffee. Over breakfast she had told Gerald to warm up some leftover turkey and stuffing. He had always thought that day-old stuffing was better than fresh and was fine with that.

He was clearing the table while Dorothy was making the last preparations for leaving when the phone rang. She picked it up and he overheard her say, "Hello Winona" before she went to the living room to avoid the clatter he was making with the dishes.

A few minutes later, she came back to the kitchen and told Gerald what the call was about. "That was Missus Richards. She wanted to know if you could split some firewood for her. I said you probably would but that you'd call back or just show up. Gerald, honey, you know she thinks so much of you and she's just not able to do hard work."

Winona Richards lived next door to Dorothy and Gerald; so much next door that their garages almost touched. When Dorothy moved into her house with toddler Gerald, Winona had been the first neighbor to knock on the door and welcome them. Learning that Dorothy was a single mother who needed to work, Winona had volunteered to help -- namely baby sitting. When a woman changes diapers, bathes a child, teaches them, and so on and so forth, a strong connection is established. So yes, Winona did indeed have quite a close connection to Gerald.

As Gerald grew older and got stronger, he began doing occasional chores for Mrs Richards. When her husband, Harold, was killed in a mass shooting at a movie theater in Evanston, Gerald began doing all the heavier work around her house. When he started university in Erie, he was of course available to help her only on school vacations. It was then that Mrs Richards really began to appreciate the work he had done so far and keenly missed his help.

"Sure Mom, no problem. I'll just go over soon as I get the dishes done. She'll probably give me lunch too. Or at least some hot chocolate."

"Well anyway, in case she doesn't, there's leftover turkey and dressing in fridge. See you when I get back this afternoon; it'll be around five."

So there he was splitting wood for Mrs Richards; doing heavy work for her just like he'd done on Saturdays and after school when he was still in high school. For Winona too, it was like reliving the days when Gerald was still in high school. Then as now, peeking out an upstairs window to watch strong, young Gerald, a warm feeling flowed over her body. In summer he would be shirtless and in shorts, his muscular back glistening with sweat as he pushed the heavy lawn mower, chopped weeds, trimmed shrubs and bushes - doing all the heavy garden work. Such a warm feeling, even a tingling, just from watching him, even now with him out in the cold November drizzle wearing a heavy sweater and rain jacket. That got her thinking about how he must be sweating beneath the warm clothing. "Why his undershirt must be soaked. Sweat even dripping down into his shorts." Then catching herself, "No, I mustn't let myself have such thoughts."

But telling oneself one shouldn't is seldom enough to stop one from doing what one thinks one shouldn't be doing. Visions of his sweaty body got her back into the forbidden fantasies she'd been harboring for years, going back nearly to her husband's untimely death. Now he was 19, old enough to be legal, mature enough to not blab. The thought made her scold herself, almost praying. "Stop, stop, stop! Lord, keep me safe from temptation!"

Winona was a lifelong Methodist as her parents had been. As such, they were determined that she go to her marriage bed a virgin and had been strict, not allowing her to date until she was 16 and then under the condition that she be home by 10:30. In that they had succeeded; Winona's pussy was truly virginal, in fact had never even been seen by male eyes until the day of her wedding to Harold Richards.

Around noon, she put on her hooded coat and rubber boots and went outside. "Gerald, I can't believe you split all that wood! You must be really hungry by now."

Gerald, as befit his character, spoke modestly. "Well I'd be a lot hungrier if Mom hadn't laid out such a fine breakfast."

"Your mom is such a good mother, looking after you the way she does. Anyway, I'm heating up some Thanksgiving leftovers. You always said you liked the leftover turkey and dressing better than the fresh. Why don't you come in now, wash up and by that time I'll have lunch ready."

They went in through the back door where her house had a closed-in porch that served as a mud room. She took his coat as soon as he had it off and holding it exclaimed, "Gerald, this is soaked inside! Your sweater must be soaked to."

"No matter, it's wool. Mom knitted it."

"True, but your undershirt, I bet it's what's really soaked."

Gerald had enough macho in him to resist being babied. "No matter. It'll dry under the sweater. You'll see."

She knew it would matter and he'd soon be shivering but she didn't want to make a fuss. "Well come on in where it's nice and warm."

As they ate and chatted, Gerald did cool down just as she knew he would. They were nearly done eating when she saw it was time to acknowledge his shivering. "Gerald, you poor boy, you're freezing! You have to get out of that damp shirt or you'll catch a deathly cold!" After she fetched a tee shirt and sweat shirt, which had been her husband's, he did strip to his bare chest and put them on. The sight of his bare chest renewed the warm tingling she'd felt earlier while peeking out the window.

"Feels better now don't it?" Then turning to clear some stuff off the table, something occurred to her. "Gerald, you know what? I'm gonna draw a hot bath for you. That's the only way you're gonna get warm quick like you need to."

"Uh, but ........ I'll be fine once I start working again."

All his objections were in vain. Finally, she declared victory. "Gerald dear, you can clear the table while I start the bath. It'll be ready in no time."

When she came back down to the kitchen, the sight of Gerald washing dishes sent a warm cozy feeling through her whole body. "What a thoughtful young man you are."

Gerald, uncomfortable with all her gushy compliments, felt his cheeks get hot. Mrs Richards, seeing his cheeks turning red, was all the happier.

When they were done with the dishes, she assumed the tub would be about ready. "Now let's go upstairs and I'll show you the bath."

"Uh, but ........"

She reassured him in the most innocent tone she could muster. "Silly boy, I'll leave you alone to bathe."

After checking the water temperature, she did leave him alone to undress and bathe. Downstairs, she prepared what she knew was his favorite -- hot chocolate.

Once in the hot bath, he did appreciate it and lay back relaxing. He had nearly dozed off when he heard her knock. "Gerald dear, I made a cup of hot chocolate for you. Can I bring it in to you?"

He was sitting in foamy water and couldn't really see any reason why she shouldn't come in just to bring him some hot chocolate. But Mrs Richards didn't leave the bathroom. Instead she sat down on the vanity stool and gave him a soft motherly look before speaking. "Well Gerald, finally I have a chance to ask you all about college and college life." There followed the usual course of questions about courses, exams, professors, etc. "And college life? Are you dating anyone there? I know you're planning a celibate life, but in the meantime, I mean, nothing against a date now and then."

"No Missus Richards, I don't date. Sure, I have a social life, parties and such. My social circle includes girls but I keep things platonically social. If I were to date, it wouldn't be fair to the girl. Dating has a romantic connotation and considering my career intentions, I will just not let myself get into a position where a girl might expect romance and its logical conclusion."

"Gerald, you are such an honest and responsible young man. Say, by the way, do you know how long it's been since I was last in this bathroom with you in the tub? Must be over 15 years! You probably don't remember. When your mom worked nights, I looked after you, changed diapers, fed you, gave you baths."

From his reddening face, she could see that he was embarrassed. "Oh Gerald, I'm so sorry if I embarrassed you. You gotta understand though, Harold and I never had children. When you and your mom moved in, I saw she needed help so I offered to take you while she was at work. I have such nice memories of you in this very tub, playing with boats and stuff."

"I do sorta remember. You used to really scrub my back and then afterwards put on some lotion so I wouldn't itch."

"Yes, that was nice. I so loved those days when you were here." Then she said something that surprised him, actually almost shocked him. "By the way, how would it be if I washed your back now, sorta like for old times sake?"

He was uncertain about the propriety of Mrs Richards washing his back while he was nude in the bath. However, reflecting on their special relationship, he certainly didn't want to hurt her feelings. "Yeah, that'd be nice. You know, no matter how much stretching and yoga I do, I still can't really wash the middle of my back."

Gerald leaned forward to present his back and she soaped it up with a washcloth. After giving Gerald's back the scrubbing of a lifetime, she soaped up his shoulders, in the process massaging them slowly and firmly. She needed to say something, anything. "Gerald, you have such a strong muscular back. Must be from all the work you do for me."

Ever modest, he replied, "Well, yeah there's that, but I do work out at the gym as often as I can, like a couple times a week."

"And your shoulders too," she said as she soaped up the washcloth again and resumed massaging there. "What a strong young man you've become. The last time I bathed you, I could feel every bone." She remembered too that the last time she'd bathed him, he hadn't bent forward to hide his genitals. "Gerald dear, there's lots of foam. You know you could sit up straighter without me seeing anything that I shouldn't see. That way I wouldn't have to bend over so far."

Gerald, ever the kind and gallant young man, immediately straightened up and then more relaxed, leaned back against the end of the tub. She put down the washcloth and massaged his soapy shoulders bare handed. "I bet there's lots of coeds who'd give anything to do this."

"As I said, Missus Richards, I don't date so I wouldn't know about that."

"Anyway, for me it's a real treat to baby you like this." Slowly, almost imperceptibly, her soapy hands moved down from his shoulders to his pectoral muscles where she began softly massaging, occasionally retreating back up to his shoulders.

As much as he enjoyed what was going on, he knew that propriety demanded that he at least make a pro forma objection. "Missus Richards, I can reach there just fine."

"I know, but Gerald Dear, doesn't this feel good?"

"Well yes, it's just that ........."

"Silly boy, don't be so prudish." Then she rinsed his shoulders before leaning over further and soaping his chest. "Oh Gerald, it's just so heartwarming to pamper you. Often I think of you up there in Erie, going to lectures, having to learn those old languages, studying for exams and generally doing without life's finer things."

When she saw his knees move apart, she let her hands move lower to slowly circle his nipples.

One last pro forma objection. "Missus Richards, uh, maybe you, maybe I, uh shouldn't .........."

"Gerald sweetie, I just want you to not be so tense."

Gerald didn't reply. He now seemed preoccupied with something. She looked down and caught a glimpse of a reddish bulb-like object beneath the now thinning foam. Two facts flashed through her mind. The first was that this was the first time she had seen his penis since he was a young boy; and second, since he hadn't been circumcised back then and it was highly unlikely that he had been cut since then, the glans should not be visible. Then to herself: "Oh Merciful Father, I've given him an erection!"

The foam was steadily diminishing and Gerald slowly realized that Mrs Richards was aware of his penile condition. "Missus Richards, I uhhhh..."

At the same time, she became aware that Gerald realized that she was aware of his condition too. "Honey, an erection is a very natural thing, and I must say, yours is really a dandy. Now I can think of only one truly natural way to handle such a condition." That said, she placed her left hand on his shoulder and with her right, reached down into the water and gently grasped his swollen member. Gerald could only breath in deeply as she began moving her right hand back and forth. He was no longer embarrassed, his only emotion was hope - hope that she would continue long enough.

"Gerald, honey how does it feel? Are you comfortable with this?"

He gasped: "Missus Richards, I'm in heaven. But are you comfortable all bent over?" Not waiting for her answer, he slowly eased up to sit on the rim of the tub, which fortunately had a generously wide tiled surround.

She took advantage of the more comfortable position and slowly masturbated the handsome penis with her right hand. Then she got up and sat down on the side of the tub surround so as to be able to face him. This allowed her to use both her hands. Not yet satisfied with the process, she grabbed a handy bottle of body lotion and turned the object of her work into a glistening totem pole.

With her right hand cupping his scrotum, she ran the finger of her left around the rim of his penis, occasionally diverting to the hole. Then more lotion and she stroked his quivering penis alternately with her right and left hands. Gerald began to rock his hips to the rhythm of her stroking. Then she held the base of his penis with her left hand and formed a sort of artificial vagina with the fingers of her right. Stroking him with the cupped right hand, the palm tapped the glans in a rhythm that she slowly increased.

Gerald seemed to be in a trance. She knew it would not be long now and indeed a few seconds later she felt the spasm as the first gusher of warm gooey semen splattered into her palm. The first burst was followed by another and then another. Was more coming? Yes, but just a dribble.

She held his penis in her right hand as it subsided to a flaccid condition and the foreskin took its normal position over the glans. She felt moisture in her crotch and realized that, although she had not had an orgasm, her arousal had taken her very close.

During the entire hand job, Gerald had had his hands on the rim of the tub and had not touched her. It seemed to her that he had just laid back and intensely enjoyed himself. What if he had taken one of her tits in his hand? She certainly wouldn't have objected. What if he had reached for her crotch? Would she have spread her legs? Removed her slacks and panties? What she did know is that if things had gone that far, she would have been driven to a violent climax.

His face still held some of the flushness and his heart palpations were still visible. She continued to cradle his flaccid penis in her right hand, as if holding it for her to admire. Then in a slightly shaky voice, she said, "Well Gerald, you seem really relaxed now."

He struggled to catch his voice. "Yes I am. as you can see, er feel. But Missus Richards, please believe me, I didn't plan on this happening."

"Oh Gerald dear, I didn't either. It's just that once I started washing your back, it was like my hands took control. By the way, how did you like my hands. Were they as good as your hand?"

"Uh, what, what do you mean?"

Flashing him a sweet understanding smile, she answered. "Gerald dear, I know all men masturbate, so please don't be embarrassed. So tell me, how did my hand compare to yours?"

He had to think out his answer. "Well, what you did was like nothing I've ever had." After pausing to think some more, he continued. "Yeah, it was really good. But you know, I think it was you being here, doing it that made it really good. Like we shared something tender, something very dear to both of us."

"That's so sweet of you Gerald. Now why don't you drop down into the water and get clean? Afterwards, I can dry your back." Thinking to herself, "Or more."

When he dropped down into the water, she thought of something. Her husband, Harold, had been circumcised so she had no experience with uncut ones, but she had read how important it was for uncircumcised men to retract their foreskins to get completely clean. She felt a strange urge, which she thought she ought to resist. On the other hand, she had just masturbated him to orgasm. To herself, "Considering that, why shouldn't I?"

She pulled up both sleeves of her sweater before telling him in a husky voice, "I think I should help. Then she reached down into the water, took his shaft in her left hand and extended her thumb and forefinger to tug back his foreskin. With a washcloth in her right hand, she gently cleansed his glans and his normally unexposed skin.

This took him by surprise but also pleased him enormously. "Missus Richards! Oh God!"

"I'm not God, just a lady who appreciates a virile young man. Now why don't you step out of the tub and we'll get you dried off? I do so love babying you."

Standing to his side and partly behind, she dried his back and shoulders with a big fresh towel. Then his sides and chest and arms. She didn't expect it, it was too soon. Her husband, even in their first year of marriage when multiple penetrations were the norm, took longer. But there it was, the swelling wasn't great but it was there. When she got to his front, it was more than noticeable. She gently dried his sack and penis, then dropping to her knees, dried his legs. By the time she finished with his feet, looking up, still on her knees, she was facing nearly the same penile condition that she'd seen looking down into the bathwater and until he'd ejaculated.

The question of "should I, or shouldn't I" did not enter her mind. Instead, pure natural emotion took charge. She took his shaft in hand and retracted his foreskin to admire the beautiful shining red glans. Still without conscious guidance, her lips touched the glans and then she bathed it with kisses before taking it into her mouth.

Going to her marriage bed a virgin, her sex education had consisted of her mother telling her that Harold would be undressing her and putting his member into her vagina. There had been no mention of cunnilingus or fellatio. In the first couple years of their marriage, the closest Harold had come to performing cunnilingus was when, after kissing her breasts as much as he thought appropriate, he would move down to spread kisses over her belly and then finally ruffle her pubic hair with his nose. Only years later, did he progress to licking her slit. He had never asked her to or indicated she should go down on him.