Stargazers: Ellie's Story

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance by any character or situation to any actual person or event is purely coincidental. All characters presented in this narrative are over the age of 18.

This is the first of two parts, both told from two women's perspectives.

It will be followed by "Stargazers: Carrie's Story."

Stargazers

Ellie's Story

By Royce F. Houton

Will and I had spent most of the day outside tending the yard, mulching, planting spring flowers, trimming, cutting limbs that had grown too low from our backyard trees for their own good.

This was the penultimate Saturday in April and first day to reach the mid-80s in the 2022 calendar year. The whole world had bloomed to life and it felt rejuvenating to be outside wearing just the minimum -- a pair of ancient Dockers shorts and a T-shirt for Will and a pair of running shorts with a long-sleeve T-shirt for me.

We already felt somewhat earthy having waked with Will's morning wood pressing against my backside followed by half an hour of slow sex. We didn't bother showering off before heading to the storage area in the rear part of his backyard pavilion to bring out the tools, fertilizer and accessories we'd need for several long hours of getting the lawn ready to go.

This was the first time Will and I had done this together -- and, evidently, the first such attention this lawn had received in years.

Our romance began after we were introduced by mutual acquaintances at a Thanksgiving Day gathering Will had hosted at his home over the past few years. It was suggested by his neighbors as a way to connect with their close-knit neighborhood and hopefully emerge from the cocoon he had retreated into since his wife, Gloria, had passed away from cancer seven years earlier. Will and I started dating on-and-off a few weeks after that and by late February, when I had retired after more than a dozen years as a principal at a school very near Will's house, we had fallen in love and become a committed couple.

Will Tetherton had been a successful attorney in the Richmond, Virginia, region, and early in the pandemic, retired as a partner from a local law firm. He kept his bar admissions current and retained a few small, private clients and did a charitable work for nonprofits and people in need, working largely from home in what he calls semi-retirement.

We both have adult children who, unbeknownst to each other, had been pushing us, respectively, for years to move beyond our somewhat reclusive, single lives. I had been on my own since I learned on New Year's Eve 2008 that my husband had been fallen in love with someone else -- a man. The warning signs that he was gay had been there all along, but I had chosen to ignore them. He moved in with his lover 10 years his junior, a bon-vivant trust-fund heir of a wealthy Old Richmond family who fancied himself a performance artist. I hired the most predatory and accomplished divorce lawyer in the city and staked a claim to most of what we jointly held and a huge share of all he would earn as a partner in a locally celebrated architectural firm unless I remarried -- something that, until recently, I was unwilling to consider.

Will and I had moved in together in early March, alternating between my house overlooking a small manmade lake in New Kent County, just east of Richmond, and the house we were sprucing up on this balmy late April Saturday in suburban Chesterfield County. Both homes were paid for, so we chose to keep the lake house as a retreat for ourselves and our children and, in Will's case, his grandson Nathan.

Finally exhausted, we ordered Chinese food via Grub Hub, uncorked a cold bottle of Pinot Grigio and sat in a large swing in his backyard pavilion, dominated by a dual-purpose gas and wood-burning fireplace. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Will clicked on the fireplace and we whiled away a couple of hours relaxing and talking before the itchy discomfort from a heavy dusting of pollen that had clung to our sweat before it dried sent us sent us upstairs to the shower.

I curled up on the den sofa against Will's chest, still lean and toned at age 67, as we watched the insipid junk that is network TV in 2022 and dozed off sometime during a rerun of "Saturday Night Live." We awoke a couple of hours later. Will had to relieve himself, so he did as guys often get to do and ambled off the deck to piss into a boxwoods hedge that grew against the fence along the side boundary of the back yard.

"Ellie, it's beautiful out there and tonight is the peak of the Lyrid meteor shower," he said as he returned from his wee-hours wee-wee.

"Sure, but all I have on is your old Tennessee T-shirt," I said.

"That's fine. It's dark, nobody's out and besides, all I have on is these gym shorts and this old Red Sox jersey," Will said.

So we walked out onto the deck, only to find that the southeastern sky, where most of the shooting stars were expected, was obscured by the tall oaks and pines that formed a buffer between a public park and the school where I had been principal adjacent to the park.

We walked into the front yard, even placed our camp chairs in the bulb of Cordovan Court, the cul-de-sac on which the house is located, but the view was still obstructed.

"You know, we could take these chairs through the woods behind the house for a few hundred feet and set them up along the clearing where the soccer fields are and have clear view," Will said.

"What about snakes?" I asked. I am terrified of snakes.

"I can't swear to it, but they really haven't come out yet. I think if we stay on the path and use the flashlights on our phones we'll be OK," he said.

We gathered up our sturdy nylon-and-aluminum folding chairs, walked through the back yard and accessed the woods through a secret gate visible only from inside Will's property and began walking through the quiet darkness of the woods, Will leading the way shining his iPhone light with me close behind.

When we came into the clearing in the corner of two side-by-side soccer pitches (that doubled as football fields in the fall), we unfolded our chairs side-by-side so close that the armrests overlapped, kicked off our flip-flops and turned our gaze skyward for the show.

The celestial fireworks were already under way. One after another, a point of white brilliance streaked across the deep blackness of space for a second of two and vanished. We were seeing two or three per minute. At one point, three meteors zipped across the inky heavens at almost the same time. I gasped at the sheer beauty of it and grabbed Will's arm, almost as though to share both physical and emotional closeness to him at this spectacular display.

"Good call, honey," I said to Will.

"The best call of my life was loving you, Ellie Matner," he said in his low, panty-dropping Barry White bedroom voice, nuzzling my cheek in the early morning darkness. I turned and found his lips waiting for mine. Within a minute, I abandoned my chair to curl myself into his lap, the cosmic fireworks an afterthought.

The first time I was aware I might be falling in love with Will was the first time he held me in his lap after I had wept and poured out my story of a painful past when my ex's deception wrecked the childhood of my twins, Mark and Melissa. Then as now, I felt safe, comforted and cared for in Will's lap with his arms secured around me. It was also, literally, an ideal fit -- me at a lean, diminutive five feet, four inches and Will at just over six feet. It didn't always lead to sex when I was in his lap with my bottom so near his loins, but it was never out of the question when we found ourselves alone in a romantic place.

This qualified.

When I said I was only wearing a T-shirt, I wasn't kidding. I love the invigorating sensuousness of the cool night air against my bare womanhood. Now, with us locked in a sensual kiss and his hands gently caressing me from my cheeks and my neck to my butt and thighs, I could feel the breeze against my moistening pussy. Soon, his hand traveled up the inside of my thigh until it encountered my brown curls and the flowering wetness in their midst.

"Commando, I see," he whispered as he gently nibbled my ear and trailed his kisses down my neck, something that he knows flips all my switches.

"Mmmmmhhh," I moaned as I sat up in his lap and removed the T-shirt. Fully naked in our darkened private corner of this public park, I positioned myself on his lap so that his right hand would have prime access to my pussy. I parted my thighs, took his hand in mine and pressed it onto my dripping mound, then my mouth hungrily sought his.

Will had begun this day by shooting an impressive load of cum onto my tummy and my tits after we both awoke with an urge for sex play. Most guys his age probably need until Tuesday to reload, but Will already had an impressive hard-on growing in his loose-fitting green gym shorts. I could feel it gaining length and girth beneath my hips as they rolled against his hand, trying to press his fingers tighter and tighter onto me.

His index and middle finger had begun their magic by traveling over my outer lips, now slick with my arousal, beginning at my puckered starfish, then teasing my hungry entrance before proceeding to my clitoral hood where he would swirl his two fingers gently before embarking on another exquisite round trip through my pouting folds to my asshole and back.

Will knew from my breathing, my pelvic thrusts and the moans from deep within me precisely when to dip into my opening, delving just inside with those two fingers, at first maybe a single joint deep. Then he would delve in two joints deep. Finally, he would enter me as deep as his fingers would go and press gently upward to engage my G-spot while his thumb slowly tormented my clit.

By now, my hips had gone from rhythmic undulations to primal thrashing as my orgasm began to crest deep inside me.

"Ohhhh fuuuck, Will," I bellowed a bit louder than I should, then forced my mouth on his to muffle my orgasmic cry. My torso arched, trembling in ecstasy.

I broke our kiss out of the necessity to breathe as my climax seized me for probably 15 to 20 seconds. I could feel my pelvic muscles contract around Will's fingers as he removed his thumb off my clit, knowing when it had had too much.

When I came slowly back to my senses, I realized that Will had powerfully looped his left forearm under my left armpit with his hand covering my right breast to keep me from falling off his lap, off the chair and onto the ground during the throes of my climax.

I looked at him and giggled before I stood up, noticing the wet spot my juices had left on the right leg of his gym shorts.

"This has to go," I whispered, motioning for him to lift his ass as I tugged both pants legs down and off him, tossing it in my empty chair. I climbed back into his naked lap straddling it, my mound -- its hair now matted with my secretions -- pressing against the underside of his straining, hard penis.

"Shirt, too," I said, waiting impatiently as he unbuttoned the baseball jersey.

There we were, naked under the stars -- the magic of the night for us to savor, all to ourselves.

"Fill my pussy, Will," I growled as I raised myself up and nuzzled the tip of his penis against my opening. With one move, I sank fully upon it, the feel of it stretching me inflaming my passion.

The petals of my pussy were fully, richly in bloom as I ground my clit against his pubis rocking against his seven inches of hardness. Will's head was rolled back as guttural sounds came from him. I alternated between the grinding that electrified my drenched vulva and bouncing up and down, riding his cock from tip to base, its flared helmet working its wonders on my G-spot with each stroke, driving me toward a deep-down orgasm with each sticky clapping sound our coupling made.

I pulled Will's head to my breasts and he took my right nipple into his mouth, sucking and tonguing it greedily as he kneaded my left tit with one free hand, sensations that further stoked the furnace roaring in my loins. Then he sent me over the edge by moving his other hand to our juncture, the point where his hardness impaled me and began to swirl his fingers across my clit.

I came instantly, yelping with its sudden onset before gently biting his shoulder to avoid waking neighbors a block away. For the second time in minutes, my spine bowed, and my hips and legs shuddered as my orgasm took flight, propelled upward by the feeling of Will's hot cum flooding my depths. He tried to suppress his grunts as his thrusts lifted us both off the camp chair. I locked my arms around his neck and held tightly onto him as we rode out our synchronized climax.

A light sheen of sweat covered us both as we drifted back to earth from our moment of shared bliss and we caught our breath. We looked at one another in our

al fresco

afterglow and cooed, sighed and giggled. Here we were like a couple of teen-age kids, making out under the stars and risking getting caught -- if only kids knew how to have sex this satisfying.

We remained coupled as we sweetly and gently kissed each other -- on the nose, face, lips, ears, neck. Then from somewhere about 50 or so yards away, seemingly along the woods' edge: two sets of hands clapping. "Bravo!" a woman's voice said.

A jolt of panic raced through us as we scanned the darkness illuminated only by a silvery half-moon. Then we realized the utter futility and ridiculousness of it. Hey, we're busted already. No sense scurrying into the thicket and hiding. Whoever was over there -- wherever they were -- evidently didn't have malicious intent or the police would have already shown up, cuffed us and taken us, buck naked, to jail to be booked. For all we knew, these voyeurs could be doing the same thing we were.

"Hey, you know, that voice...," I whispered to Will, "... I can't place it but something about it sounds familiar."

"Oh? All I can tell is it seemed to be a woman," he said.

"Maybe. But... oh never mind," I said, kissing him. "Just intuition, I guess."

At that point, I wiggled my bottom and his penis, still half-swollen, plopped out. It glistened of our mingled love juices in the faint moonlight..

"Time for us to head home, baby," I said, as I continued sliding backward off his legs and stood in the grass. He bent forward and kissed my belly button. I resisted the temptation to squat and let our fluids drain into the grass, aware that somewhere over there was an audience of at least two people, and I wanted to salvage some dignity by not grossing them out.

I found my orange T-shirt, Will found his shorts and shirt, we put on our flip-flops, grabbed our camp chairs and began making our way home. I could feel Will's semen mixed with my slish leak from my pussy, ten cool as it drained down my inner thighs.

"Ellie, you didn't want to try to find out who...," he asked, barely above a whisper, as he guided us through the path back to the house.

"Nah, I think we're just as well to leave well enough alone right now. Sometimes, the not knowing is more tantalizing than knowing. You never know who it was that saw us out here making love," I said. "Besides, if it is who I think it is, I'll probably find out eventually anyway."

We reached the hidden gate, exhausted. Will closed and locked it, but I recommended that he leave it unlocked and ajar in the event that Clint and Carrie were our voyeuristic rooting section, giving them a way to get back home without walking a half a mile. Given their well-disclosed penchant for rutting like rabbits pretty much anywhere, anytime, it wouldn't surprise me if they were the spectators who just watched our X-rated peep show. At least I hope so.

We did a quick rinse in the shower and by the time we fell asleep, it was four o'clock in the morning on Sunday. We dozed off naked in each other's arms, as we usually do, and we would sleep in long after the sun rose.

NEXT: Read Carrie's Story, the woman's telling of what the other couple saw.