AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you haven't read the story called "My Wife's Big Assed Girlfriend" then I suggest you do that first. This is neither a prequel or a sequel, but it is related. You can find it under "Erotic Couplings".
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I have always known that Susan's mum, Sylvia, had a soft spot for me. I nicknamed her "Wife No.3" I just never knew how much of a soft spot that was. But as I look back, I can see indications of how she felt about me. Sylvia is now 75 and this story takes place only a few months ago. But there have been tiny instances over the last five years that point to the event surrounding the story I am about to tell you.
There was the time Max and I arrived at her apartment to deliver Christmas presents, on our way to a party. I was dressed in a suit and had bought a new shirt especially for the occasion. Susan and her children were at Sylvia's apartment as well and Susan couldn't help herself and just had to run her fingers over my chest, just to "feel the fabric", as she put it. We all had a laugh at my embarrassment, but when Sylvia came up to me to touch, Susan steered her away and for a moment I think I saw disappointment in her eyes.
Another time, I bumped into Sylvia in a DIY shop. She hadn't seen me and was pleasantly surprised. She kept touching my face and telling me how young I looked. I am in my mid fifties now and meeting her was about four years ago. It was almost as if to her that meeting me had somehow made her day. I guess you could say that I was blissfully unaware of her intentions or her emotions that day, because at the same time, Max called me on my cellphone and I happily told her who I had run into and even put Sylvia on the phone to talk to Max.
Sylvia had a "boyfriend" called Arnold, whom she had known for the best part of twenty -five years. They didn't live together, but every so often he would come a stay the night, from what Susan and Max told me. Neither Max or Susan gave me any indication that sex was involved. I am assuming that Susan would rather imagine her mum of no longer being interested in such things, being the age she was.
Max and I bumped into Sylvia and Arnie, as he liked to be called, whilst we were out hill walking. Sylvia would have been around 73 at this point. When we met, I noticed that Sylvia was dressed in a singlet, a pair of shorts and walking shoes. It was quite a warm day and all of us were warm and sweaty. I took time to see that despite her age, Sylvia was in amazing condition. She had always been thin, but I saw that her arms were quite muscular. Not masculine muscular, but fit. No sagging skin. Her legs were in great condition too. Her thighs looked like the thighs of a woman twenty years her junior. Of course I noticed her chest. The singlet left little to the imagination and it was easy to see that she was wearing a bra. But her breasts were perky and not sagging at all.
When we met, Sylvia walked right up to me and gave me a hug. But there was more to this hug than could have been described as normal. She put her arms around my neck, nuzzled her head into my chest and held me tightly. I responded in kind, holding her as tightly as she did me. In that instance, I felt something. I can't say that it was mutual attraction, but something passed between us.
When we got home, Max teased me.
"Sylvia likes you," she said, emphasizing the word "likes" as if to say there was more to it than met the eye. I went along with the joke, but I couldn't get the thought out of my head that maybe there had been more to it.
We learned later, from Susan, that Arnie had contracted testicular cancer.
Over the following four years, his health deteriorated and Sylvia was so busy travelling to and from the rest home where his family had moved him, that we hardly saw her.
He died about six months ago. Sylvia said that she would grieve only a short while because she had had ample time to prepare for his death and knew that he was in far better place. Sylvia also said that Arnie's death had shown her that life was too short and fragile to spend grieving long term and that she was going to live out the rest of her life doing what she wanted to do.
Sylvia inherited a substantial amount of money from Arnie's will and used it to move from her old apartment into a brand new build. On the day after Christmas, we visited for the first time for dinner and bringing presents. When we walked in the door, Susan greeted us first with hugs and kisses on the cheeks, followed by her children, who hugged us. Sylvia waited until the end and walked up to me and gave me one of her "special hugs".
The evening went by pleasantly with no mention of Arnie, or the funeral or what Sylvia would do now.
A couple days into the New Year, Max called me from work to say that Sylvia had called her to ask if I could pop over to her apartment to help her move some furniture around the lounge. Susan's brother, who lived close by, had helped her before Christmas with making room for the Christmas tree, but now that had been removed, the furniture had to be moved back and he was out of the country for the six months. I said that it was fine and we could swing by later that evening. Max told me that Sylvia was adamant that she wanted the furniture moving in the afternoon. I said it would not be problem and left to catch the bus to Sylvia's place.
When Sylvia opened the door, she was dressed for cleaning. She wore a singlet, like the one she wore when walking and a pair of sweatpants. The carpet slippers on her feet seemed a little out of place with the rest of her attire. Her dark hair was tied back in a short pony tail to keep it out of her eyes. I could tell that her hair was in need of recoloring because I could see the grey roots showing across her hairline.
She ushered me inside and as the door as closing, I received one of her special hugs, only this time she pulled me into her, tightly. She told me to hang up my jacket and follow her into the lounge. I could see why she needed help. Her suite, which consisted of a couch and two chairs, was large and heavy. Not for the faint hearted and certainly not for a 75 year old grandma.
After about half an hour of humping, dragging and cleaning, we were done.
"Would like a cup of coffee?" she asked and I accepted.
Sylvia told me to me to take a seat on the couch while she made the coffee. As she poured water into the kettle and spooned coffee grounds into the the French Press, we made small talk about work and my relationship to Max. She also told me of her suspicions that Susan was dating someone. Max had never said anything and so I could only assume that Susan was keeping things on the down-low until the relationship was me solid. It was plainly obvious that Susan had never mentioned her evenings at our place.
Once the coffee was brewed, she placed the French Press on a tray with mugs and a plate of cookies and carried it to the coffee table, in front of the suite. Then she sat on the couch, next to me.
I felt her hand touch my thigh and turned to look at her.
"Would you be surprised to hear that people my age are still having sex?" she asked in a very calm and matter-of-fact way.
I wasn't surprised to hear the fact but it made me curious as to why she was asking me.
"I'm not surprised at all," I answered. "I don't believe that there is "use by date" on intimacy. I think it's all down to the individual. As long as you are fit and healthy, take care of yourself and can still move your limbs, I can't see why we can't be having sex into our nineties."
She smiled.
"I'm not sure I will have the energy to be doing it at that age," she replied.
I raised the mug to my lips and was about to take a sip of coffee, when Sylvia asked,
"Do you know how long it has been since I was last intimate with a man?"
Putting my mug down on the tray, I shook my head.
"Twenty years ago. Can you imagine that?" she replied. "I haven't been with a man in twenty years."
I noticed my hand was shaking. Suddenly I was feeling very nervous.
"B...but...what about you and Arnie?" I stuttered.
"Arnie, bless his soul, was ten years older than me, when I met him. We had a good sex life for about five years until he developed problems with his waterworks. The doctor said it was an enlarged prostate. Arnie didn't want the operation, but there was no other choice. Afterwards, he was unable to rise to the occasion, if you get my meaning."
I nodded my head.
"I had ample opportunity to engage in extra marital relations with men, over the following years, but it is not in my nature to cheat. I was in love with Arnie, whether he could get it up or not."
