The Widower And The Neighbor Girl 1

***This is another long one. If you are looking for a quick wank, this isn't it. It has a couple of sex scenes, but the set up is needed for the final one. I hope you like it.***

It was another boring, dreary Pennsylvania morning during my senior year when Kathryn walked into my life. We had gotten to school and were gathering in Mrs. Castor's room for homeroom. I had taken my usual lackadaisical attitude towards the beginning of the day. I was a decent student, garnering B's and C's; however, I was not the most enthusiastic. I saved that for the Brains.

I was doodling on my paper bag book cover, probably something to do with The Doors, or Black Sabbath, or one of the other bands I worshiped... it usually was... when I happened to glance up and see the new girl walk into the class. She had shoulder-length, straight brown hair, and was wearing jeans and double Izod shirts, green over blue, and was the most beautiful girl I had ever in my life laid eyes on.

As I sat there wondering what twist the Fates had used to bring this creature into my life, I watched her walk up to Mrs. Castor's desk. I had to have this girl. She had to be my girlfriend. I would never be happy until.... Of course, I knew I was fooling myself. I was 5'9" tall and weighed around 130 pounds. I was not the most masculine guy at school. I was a runner, and was on the cross-country and track teams, but I wasn't #1. I was, actually, middle of the pack. I wasn't the best student, and I wasn't that popular. I was Anthony Michael Hall's "Farmer Ted" character in "16 Candles": King of the Nerds.

Guys like me, we don't get the beauties. I had girlfriends, but they were the ones that were in my league. I got along great with all of the girls, they just didn't "like" me in the manner I would have preferred. I tried giving a cheerleader a shoulder rub one afternoon in the attempt to get her to allow me a go, and all it did was have the rest of the team lining up behind her for their weekly "appointment. I had a knack for computer programming, back in the early days of school having such classes, and had several of the girls coming to me for help with their computer homework. Two of the popular females lived on my block, and I drove them to school and home. They didn't invite me to the cool kid parties, and they still wouldn't date me. There was no chance this girl was going to be any different.

Imagine my shock when she finished checking in to Homeroom and walked across the room to sit in the empty seat in front of me. A couple of people noticed her, but most everyone was wrapped up in their own conversations. This new girl, this exquisite creature, sat down, got settled, and turned to face me.

"Hello."

It took me a second to respond. I had fully expected her to ignore me as the others did, so I had to gather my thoughts before speaking.

"Hey." OK, I never said I was a world-class conversationalist.

She stuck her hand out. "I'm Kathryn Ames. I just moved here from Cincinnati."

"John Andersen."

I shook her hand. It was getting easier to be around her because I had put myself into the friend zone. With no expectations of having her lower herself to be interested in me, talking became more natural. She pulled out her schedule.

"Maybe you can help me a bit with this. Obviously, I don't know where any of these classes are, and I know nothing about the classes or the teachers."

I took her schedule and looked at it.

"Well, this day is going to be a bit easier for you. We have first period English together. Mr. Alton. He's tough, but probably the most fair teacher here. He hates everyone." I laughed. "No, he's tough, but if you do the work, he will give you a good grade. I can walk you to his class, downstairs. Second period is computers. Well, that's me, again. It's down at the end of the hall across from the office. Third period, you are back here for, wow, a brain. Calculus is taught by Mrs. Castor. Fourth period is... let's see, here... fourth period History. Mr. Enders has his classroom right down the hall, here. Lunch, my favorite period."

She laughed. "Oh, stop. I doubt that is true."

"Whatever. Let's see...."

I went over her schedule for the last three periods after lunch and it seemed that we had two of them together. Well, if I couldn't be her boyfriend, I could, at least, see her.

About that time, the bell for First Period rang. She gathered her books, and we left the class. She kept a running commentary: her last school, and her friends, and moving here. I was only half listening, but I must have made the appropriate noises at the appropriate time, because she never seemed to notice. When we got to Mr. Alton's class, I guess I was supposed to know everything about her. Of course, I knew nothing. I hadn't been listening.

As I got to my seat, I was hoping Mr. Alton would sit her behind me. There was an empty sat, she needed a place to sit. To me, it made perfect sense. Of course, Mr. Alton was an adult, and a teacher and didn't ask my opinion. He put her across the room next to Eric Rodriguez. Eric-fucking-Rodriguez.

There were three alley cats in my class, those guys that scam on all of the girls in school. They had a competition going between them as to who could get the most girls naked, and virgins counted twice. They were cool, good-looking, and sports stars, and popular, and successful at everything they did. And sitting next to my....friend. So, class began and life, for me, ended.

We had a rare free day (of course). We were supposed to be working in teams writing original stories in a specific style. We had to research the genre, find out the commonalities that defined it, what they had to have to further the story, and what each of the great authors of that genre added to make their tales unique. We could work alone or in pairs or teams.

I was, among other things, a DnD nerd. Of course, I chose the genre of swords and sorcery/fantasy: Terry Prachett, Terry Brooks, Robert Jordan, Michael Moorcock, Stephen R. Donaldson, and- of course-King Tolkien..... these were my writing gods. I knew everything about them, and figured this would be a breeze. The Alley Cats didn't have it as easy, but with Kathryn helping them out, I had no doubt that they would get an "A", among other things. The entire class, I had trouble concentrating on my work, because every time I looked over they were laughing and giggling together. He already had his hooks in her, and would, no doubt, add her to his list.

After class was over, I picked up my books and headed out the door. Kathryn caught up with me.

"So, where are you headed so fast?

"uh... Computers, remember?"

"Of course, I remember. You were supposed to walk me there."

"I figured you would have Eric walk you. He has class downstairs."

She giggled at my comment. A prettier laugh I had never heard. It was the sound of birds singing in the summer breeze.

"You certainly are the silly one, John-boy Walton. Eric is OK to talk to, but he is only looking to get into my jeans and brag to his friends about it. I've been dealing with his type since Freshman year. I'm not having a white wedding by hanging around that idiot."

"My last name is Andersen"

"No kidding, John-boy"

That is how I got my pet name, and that's how Kathryn and I became, well, Kathryn and I. There was never any of the "will you go out with me" that begins every high school relationship. It was automatically known that she and I were together. And, it lasted that way the rest of the year, through college, and beyond.

After I took my degree and became a freelance software developer, and Kathryn became a published author, with a fair amount of success. No doubt, you've read one of her novels.

Though she made a couple of million dollars a book, (plus movie rights and appearances), and my company made me about a million a year, we kept to our roots. We lived in a nice, upper middle class neighborhood in Carbontown, a small town in the coal region of Pennsylvania, population about 2500. We got along with the neighbors, and were involved in the various small town activities. As we were unable to have children of our own, Kathryn and I, sort of, adopted all of the kids in the neighborhood. They would come to swim in our pool, we would babysit them when their parents were going out, or they would simply stop by to partake of the cookies that Kathryn seemed to have always just baked. One more than all the others.

Denise lived across the street with her father and mother, Dave and Danielle Lindermann. Oddly, she looked like almost exactly like Kathryn. As she grew up, she turned into the girl I fell in love with in school. She had the same look, the same great personality, the same... well... boobs... It was a good thing she was my self-adopted daughter and, well, there was that whole "underage" hassle. Every time she was around the house, I had to remind myself that I was madly, desperately in love with my wife. The more she grew into adulthood, the harder it was to remember that. Seeing her in her bikini made it that much more difficult.

As ashamed as I am to say it, there were times when I was being intimate with my wife, I was seeing someone else in my mind. The first was the night of her 18th birthday. It had been about a week since Kathryn and I had sex, but after the party, and Denise and her friends were running around her parent's backyard in their shorty shorts and various boob-enhancing shirts. Denise had on a tight tank top that put her 18-year-old titties out front and pushed up for the world to see...

I started to get an old, familiar tingle in places I was not supposed to be getting them for the girl I considered to be my daughter. I began to harden, and it was only by the strength of my will I didn't allow it to get big enough for the entire world to see. Not that I am Ron Jeremy, or anything, but I was in shorts, and it would have been obvious. I wasn't ready to explain my excitement to her father.

Now that she was legal, as we got into bed that night, I couldn't help but wish that Denise was crawling into bed beside me.

"Did you hear me, Mr. Walton?"

I snapped out of my dream to realize Kathryn had been talking to me, and I didn't hear a thing she had said.

"I'm sorry, Babe. What did you say?"

"I said, Denise's party was really nice, wasn't it? Where were you?"

"Oh, I was going over a thing we're trying to figure out for... program's not working to expectations. It's been bugging me all week. Nothing to really worry about."

I'm sure my beloved Kathryn knew something was up, but she never said anything, not even until the day she died.

Which gets us to the point of this story.

Kathryn had been feeling run down, but nothing serious. When she started having weakness in her muscles, pain in her legs, we began to realize something was wrong. Then, she started having trouble swallowing.

The first time we noticed that was when she was giving me, one of the best blow jobs in the history of sucking cocks. I laying in bed reading the latest draft of her new novel on my tablet. It was some historical romance whatever. I normally don't got for this kind of thing, but I always read her semi-final drafts, and this one was getting good. It was a sex scene and it was graphic, more so than I had ever seen from her. "Damn, Kathryn, I had no idea you had this in you." She reached under the blanket and began rubbing, according to her, my second best body part.

"So, my lover, how about you read it to me?"

I looked at her with a bit of wonderment. She normally didn't wanted to hear her writing. I read them all, but never aloud.

"But, why should-"

She stuck her hand in the front of my boxers and began stroking me with purpose. I became instantly hard.

"Well, Mr. Walton, you can either read this to me, or I can stop this right now, and go to sleep... on the couch."

"No, no, we don't want that."

I looked back at the manuscript. The extreme desire to have an orgasm and the anticipation that it might happen made it very difficult for my eyes to focus on the words and to concentrate on actually reading it.

"Lauren crawled up between his legs, as he struggled against the leather straps holding him to the bed."

I felt Kathryn crawling up the bed, kissing the sensitive skin on the inside of my legs. I had tingles before, but this made my already hard prick start to elongate even more.

"Knowing there was nothing he could do to stop her, she used her tongue to tickle the underside of his-"

I gasped as she did exactly as I was reading. By the time she stopped, my tingling, expanding prick had turned into a massive, throbbing cock. I don't think I could have gotten any harder if an 18 year old Hermione Granger, herself, were servicing me.

"Come on. Keep reading, my love. I want to know what happens next."

She started licking the underside of my balls, just in front of my ass, right on the most sensitive area. I jumped so hard I almost dropped her manuscript.

"Come on, keep reading."

"I-"

"Come on, Baby. Talk to me."

I took a deep breath. This was going to kill me. I knew it was. I refocused on the manuscript that had started this event.

"When Brantley could take it no more, and was whimpering for relief, beg...ging for the torment to s...s...stop. Feeling pity for her victim, Lauren took him into her mouth as deeply as she could."

With this last sentence, Kathryn lifted her head and speared herself on my love missile.

"OH, MY FUCKING...!!"

I almost lost it, right there. As I was reading, she was licking my balls, then with no warning, I was deeply embedded in her throat. Her manuscript forgotten, and scattered across the bed, my fingers were wrapped around the blanket to prevent me from grabbing her by the ears and shoving her face into my groin so hard it broke her nose. A few more strokes with her mouth and I was starting to feel that familiar tightening of my-

"You stopped reading, Johnny. I guess I need to stop also."

I was done playing, and refused to be tortured any longer. I grabbed Kathryn by the back of the head, twisted my fingers in her hair, and forced my cock into her throat. This was going to happen with no delay.

I held off as long as I could, but just when I couldn't take it, I came so hard that I was worried it was going to shoot straight through the back of her skull. Since the first night she gave me a sloppy, halting suck job, her sister told her that she needed to swallow, and she took it to heart, loving every single drop. This time, just the attempt caused her to choke, and sent her into a coughing fit. The next day, the trouble swallowing and other ailments continued, so we called the doctor. I figured they were going to tell us she had a brain tumor, or MS or something.

After some testing, the doctor told us she had ALS, or Lou Gehrig's Disease. She was going to die. This woman that I had loved, deeply and without exception for twenty-five, since we were seniors in high school, was going to die. And it would be a horrendous, painful, long, drawn-out death, and there was not a single thing I could do about it. I tried to be strong for her, but I can't deny that I was devastated. I was a computer programmer. I could fix anything. Everything had a solution. Everything could be fixed. Everything... except my wife. I could make a home compter grow legs, hop off the table, and dance the tarantella, but I couldn't fix the sole reason for my existence.

Over the next almost three years, I promoted my lead programmer to general manager, hired another programmer, and worked from home. I still took my classes to keep up with the changes and trends in programming, but for the most part, I stayed home and loved my wife for however long we had left together. I hired a doctor, a neurologist, to educate me on everything he could about ALS. We got her a physical therapist to teach me to work with her. Even though I had not the foggiest what the hell one was before now, or that they existed, we hired a practitioner of palliative medicine to help improve the quality of the life we had left together. All of that expertise cost a substantial amount, but money we had. Answers on how to fix my wife, we didn't. And, through it all, I stayed home to take care of the love of my life.

Eventually, it got to the point where the doctors weren't useful, and I didn't have the ability to do everything myself. I needed someone else to help me take care of the love of my life. It had gotten to the point where.. it was too tough to do it alone. Luckily, I didn't have to look too hard or too long. The help I needed was right under my nose. Denise had graduated from high school and was attending the local community college taking her beginning nursing studies. One day, while her parents were over for coffee, they offered her services a couple of days a week after classes. Later that afternoon, Denise stopped by while the physical therapist was visiting.

When I answered the door, the first thing that struck me was, again, how much she reminded me of my love, who was currently in the other room going through the paces. I got a catch in my throat for a quick second until I realized it was not my Kathryn come back to me, but the little girl I had seen grow up across the street. She was dressed in her blue hospital scrubs, having returned home from... well, I didn't know where. Her hair was back in a ponytail, and she had the slightest of make-up on, a bit of neutral color lipstick and that was about it.

"Hey, Mr. Andersen, Mom told me you needed a bit of help with my other mother."

That same old joke. Normally, it was amusing enough, but today... lately...

"Yeah, absolutely. Come on in, Denise. I just put a pot on, would you like a cup of coffee?" I led her to the kitchen.

"Actually, Mr. Andersen, classes have been a bitch this week. What I could use is a beer, if you have any."

I knew good and well she wasn't 21, yet; however, she was going to help me with Kathryn, and I didn't care. She deserved a beer for all she was getting ready to go through.

And, so began the four years of my "daughter" caring for my wife. At first, while she was in school, it was part-time. I paid off her loans, and put her on salary of $400/ week while she was learning. After her beginning classes, I took care of the cost for her to attend nursing school to finish getting her degree. When she finally got her license, she worked for me full time and I increased her pay to $1,000/week. It was more money than I should have paid, but I didn't care about the cash. What I cared about is that I had a caretaker that loved my wife, and wasn't in it just for the paycheck. Eventually, she moved into the guest room where she could be available 24 hours a day. She was definitely earning her money. While I was still the primary caretaker, she had the nursing schooling and training to do more good than my meager attempts. I had learned as much as I could and had been taking care of Kathryn, but.... well... I was glad for the company, was the truth, and Kathryn was glad to have her around

The hours she spent, working with my wife, and caring for her were hours I didn't have to. It gave me a chance to leave the house, to grab a cup of coffee, or simply take a walk around the neighborhood and clear my head, and for that, I would have paid twice. She often teased that I was off to see my girlfriend while I left her there alone to do the heavy lifting with my wife, but the truth was, I could never do that. It had been years since I'd had any adult physical contact with Kathryn, and she wouldn't ever know, but I couldn't do it.

While the doctors were there, or the nurses, or whomever, I would make dinner for Kathryn, Denise, and myself. I had always been a decent enough cook, my mother having taught me growing up. Knowing my love had only a few years left on this plane, I decided she deserved something other than my feeble attempt at feeding her. I spent more of the money I no longer cared about to hire a chef right out of school to teach me how to be a proper cook. I wanted to make meals for her that she could remember unto the next stage of her life. Not only was I working for her, it also gave me a chance to focus on something other than the grim reality our existence had become.