In Ch. 1, I met a mature lady, Emma, who became my lover; she left for Florida in October 1963; before she left, she introduced me to Bev.
November 1963: I had not heard from Emma since she moved to Florida; I assumed she was busy with her new life. Two weeks after Emma left for Florida, on a Wednesday evening, I went to Charly’s. After I sat at the bar, I saw Bev talking to May, the blonde, mature, waitress. When she saw me, she smiled and said warmly:
“Hi Billy, nice to see you. Sit next to me. This’s my friend, May,” and introduced me to the blonde waitress.
I noticed Bev, dressed in a blue skirt and black long-sleeve blouse, had a sparkling smile, gray-blonde hair, and large blue eyes. As I sipped my gin and tonic, I found Bev was easy to talk to; as she and I talked about several topics, I ordered a daiquiri for Bev. As Bev and I were talking, the young muscular man I saw a few days ago sat next to me. Bev introduced him to me as, Nick. A few minutes later, May brought him a beer, and, smiling, said 'Hi' to him.
Bev said:
“I've to go home,” and, smiling at me, added:
“Walk with me home; I live a few blocks from here.”
As we were walking home, I realized Bev was slightly shorter than Emma; like Emma, she also had a nice figure, including a large bosom, small waist, flared hips, and well-tapered legs. Equally importantly, Bev appeared to be interested in me.
Bev said:
“I spoke with Emma on Sunday.”
I asked, “Is she alright?”
Bev said, “Emma's alright; she's still trying to sort things out. You know she asked for a one-year leave of absence from her job here; they gave it to her because she's a war widow and they found a person to work in her place,” and continued, softly:
“I’m sure Emma will sort out her life. Life goes on.”
Soon, we reached Bev's home on a quiet street; it was larger than Emma's. After she unlocked the front door and we went inside, she said:
“Would you like a cup of coffee and a piece of chocolate cake?”
I said, “Sure, if it’s not a bother.”
Bev cooed, “It’s a pleasure,” and left.
While Bev was in the kitchen, I saw a few recent photographs of her with Emma, and when they were young in which Bev looked like a vivacious blonde. In another photo, I saw a color photo of Chris and Bev at a swimming pool; he was a big man; Bev’s curves showed well in the one-piece swim suit.
After Bev placed a tray of coffee and cake on the small table, she said:
“Now you know how I looked 20 years ago.”
Still looking at the photographs, I said, “Bev, you’re more beautiful now.”
Bev giggled and said, “Flattery will get what you want,” and hugged me lovingly.
Bev and I sat on the sofa, and had our coffee and cake. Later, I said, “Thanks for the cake; it’s very good,” making Bev smile.
I helped Bev carry the used plates and cups to the kitchen, and as I watched her rinse them, I saw a voluptuous lady with flared hips. When Bev turned to reach for a dish towel, she ran in to me and I held her in my arms. When Bev did not try to leave my embrace, I hugged her tightly and pushed my cock in to her voluptuous ass.
Bev asked:
“How are you? Are you dating any one?”
I said, “I’m fine, busy with work. I’m not dating any one,” and after a pause added:
“I would love to see you, may be have dinner at Charly’s.”
Bev smiled and said, “I would love that; may be after Thanksgiving,” and added:
“Thank you for walking with me tonight.”
I said: “I should be going; it's really nice to see you,” and hugged her; Bev hugged me back warmly, pressing her mature chest in to me.
I smiled at Bev and started walking back to Charly's where I left my car; I realized I liked Bev's warm personality and her voluptuous beauty.
THANKSGIVING
The week before Thanksgiving, on Friday, the President was assassinated; like many others, I was distraught for several days. I felt the need for love and kindness. While in college, Mary and I had campaigned for him. I called Mary’s parents in Indianapolis hoping to talk to her; a lady answered and said Mary had moved to Chicago, but did not give any other information. I thought of calling Bev, but did not want to impose on her.
On Saturday night, Bev telephoned me; she said:
“It's Thanksgiving next week. I invited my Aunt Myrtle. You are very welcome to join us for dinner.”
I said, “I don't want to be a bother.”
Bev said, “It's no bother at all. You should not be alone at this time.”
I said, “Ok. What can I bring for the dinner?”
Bev said, “Myrtle and I like wine with dinner; bring a bottle of white wine.”
I was glad for Bev’s invitation for I did not want to be alone on Thanksgiving.
On Thanksgiving Day, I went to Bev late in the afternoon; she welcomed me with a warm hug and introduced me to Aunt Myrtle, a petite lady with a warm personality. Bev looked lovely: she was dressed in a black skirt and a red short-sleeve silk blouse; black tights and black high heels; she had on red lipstick, dangling silver ear rings, and a silver necklace; I saw she had deep blue eyes underneath granny glasses; her shoulder-length, blonde-gray hair, was combed back, and held with a silver clasp.
With Bev helping, I fixed myself a gin and tonic, and for Bev and Myrtle. We toasted to the good health of all of us and the nation.
Looking at Bev's beautiful face and voluptuous body made my blues go away. During the dinner, couple of times, Bev saw me staring at her, and she smiled and blushed. The traditional Thanksgiving dinner was good and we finished the bottle of wine. After dinner, after Bev and I carried the dishes to the kitchen, Bev and Myrtle washed and rinsed them, and I dried them. A short while later, Myrtle went upstairs to rest.
I was watching TV in the living room, when Bev sat next to me on the sofa and held me in her arms for several minutes; gently, she kissed my eyes and I kissed her lips. Bev said:
“I know you’re sad. Death of a young man is difficult to deal with. This’s a great country. We will come through. Life’s short; all of us need to move on.”
I realized Bev had heard of many young men, younger than the late President, who died during the Second World War.
After I said, “Bev, you’re right about moving on,” I laid in Bev's lap.
Smiling, Bev gently kissed me on my lips. In response to Bev’s kiss and voluptuous body, my cock became rigid and, after lifting myself up, I kissed her back passionately.
I whispered, “You’re a beautiful and kind lady,” and kissed her long, slender, arms, and wrinkled neck.
Bev giggled and cooed, “That’s sexy,” and whispered:
“Let’s go to the Sun Room; Myrtle can’t hear us; there’s a mirror too.”
I followed Bev, watching her swaying wide hips as she walked. In the Sun Room, Bev stood smiling in front of a large mirror, and, standing behind her, I kissed her neck. Slowly, I nudged Bev to remove her blouse revealing her red bra-covered boobs. Intently, Bev watched in the mirror, as I kissed her slender arms and neck, and fondled her silk-covered boobs.
After Bev removed her shoes and sat down, I whispered:
“Please take off your skirt.”
Blushing, Bev did so: she had on a black silk slip; after I sat on the couch, she sat in my lap facing me and French kissed me.
Looking at us in the mirror, Bev cooed, “It turns me on seeing you love me,” and wistfully said:
“I missed good loving; you’re a handsome man.”
While rubbing her bra-covered boobs, I smelled Bev’s perfumy cleavage and kissed it several times. Bev had sexy armpits: I rubbed and kissed them; she squealed happily when I suckled her bra-coved left nipple. Bev whimpered with pleasure when I pinched both her nipples.
When I pushed my stiff cock in to Bev's covered buttocks, she pushed back, and cooed: