A Widower's Comfort

Disclaimer - all characters in this fictional story are over the age of 18.

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Coping with the death of someone you love is never easy, but it helps to have someone close by to help you heal.

My wife of almost 30 years, Maria, died 14 months ago after a long fight with cancer. It was a big shock. Though the cancer kept returning after multiple treatments, our doctors had told us that the latest cocktail of chemo and radiation was proving to be far more effective than anything we had tried before.

Maria's mother, Betty had come to live with us when Maria first received her diagnosis. Betty, though having her own medical issues associated with her age, wanted to do everything for her daughter, and for me. She knew I couldn't bear the burden of caring for Maria alone. After all, for the last 30 years, she had been my mom too.

In the end, it wasn't actually the cancer that killed my wife; it was the cure. The medicines simply took their toll on her organs which eventually failed. I almost wish we hadn't fought so hard. Each new round of chemo was full of false hope we didn't deserve.

After the funeral, I asked Betty to stick around a bit longer. I told her it was for me, that I couldn't bear to be alone. In reality, I knew that she shouldn't be alone. Its one thing to lose a wife.. Quite another thing to lose a child. She had sold her home, not wanting to worry about maintaining it from another state. Not that she could have done too much maintenance; She had already been feeling the effects of severe arthritis in her shoulder and legs years before she moved in with us. In fact, before Maria got sick, we tried desperately to get Betty to come live with us, without success. She had always been fiercely independent.

The first few weeks after the funeral saw both of us oscillating between numb silence and deep crying. I tried to be strong for Betty, and she tried to be strong for me, but we often just hugged and cried in each other's arms.

After about a month, we settled into a new routine. Though still incredibly sad, we had reached a point where at least one of us could go two days without crying. We made it a point to have breakfast together every morning. Sometimes we'd talk about Maria, and sometimes not. We both knew we were forcing a new normalcy on ourselves.

One day, on my way home form work, I passed a flower shop I used to go to when buying flowers for Maria. On impulse, I thought a bouquet would be a nice gesture for Betty. She had been staying in her bedroom a bit more than usual due to leg pain and, well, her bedroom could use a little livening up if she were to be in there all day. When I gave the flowers to her, she wrapped her arms around my neck and sobbed so deeply. I should have known flowers would have reminded her of the dead. But to my surprise, when I looked into her face, eyes wet with tears; she thanked me. Her smile seemed to be coming from someplace deep in her chest. She told me that they were beautiful and that I did not understand how much she needed that gesture. Betty had started to feel as if her grief was defining her. She felt that she, as a person no longer existed, but a shell of herself existed only as the mother of a dead woman. It was nice to be recognized as a living breathing person that may take pleasure in the every-day things in life. Betty planted a big wet kiss on my cheek. It's the happiest either of us had been in months.

Unfortunately, the happiness was short lived. Because of the arthritis, she was having trouble getting in and out of the bathtub. She was ashamed to ask for help, but didn't have much choice. I promised her that I have an easy access standing shower installed as soon as possible, but while we waited, something incredible happened between us.

For the sake of her modesty, I would help Betty into the tub in her robe. Then I would leave, locking the bathroom door behind me, and she would begin to run her bath. One day, however, I heard Betty calling to me from the bathroom. I knocked and asked if everything were okay. She said that her new bath soap had made the tub too slippery and she was having a difficult time reaching her towel and robe.

I assured Betty not to worry, that the lock was easily opened, and I would be inside the bathroom in a moment.

I was more concerned about her losing her balance, and focused solely on getting in, that I did not think to remind her to cover up. In hindsight, she could have drawn the curtains a little more, but when I entered the bathroom, she was fully naked and exposed. I quickly averted my eyes, looking forward just enough to guide myself to her towel and robe.

The bathroom not being so big, I still saw her in all her naked glory. Since Betty wasn't covering up, I decided to instead act completely natural. I acted as if the situation were entirely normal as to not cause her any shame. I took Betty's towel and draped it first over her shoulders. I was about to reach for her robe when I noticed that Betty was having a hard time drying herself. Her limited shoulder mobility was preventing her from performing even this basic task. I walked over, and helped her dry.

Betty didn't protest. She Thanked me and told me how sweet I was. I did my best to both help her dry and to keep her dignity, but she didn't seem bothered. I avoided trying to dry her breasts which glistened with moisture under the bathroom lights. I moved the towel down to her leg that was closest to me, immediately catching sight of the Heart of her Femininity. Though thickly covered in grey hairy bush, spotted with droplets of moisture, her pink labia showed through quite visibly. I was both shocked and aroused.

Not wanting to be to intrusive, I announced that I was going to wipe her feet to remove the excess soap making them slippery. She lifted her feet to oblige me and in doing so, exposed even more of herself to me. I made special effort to focus on her feet alone. Like a monk, I chose a single point of focus, her toes, as to not be tempted to look in the wrong direction again. Betty remained quiet.

Once done, I draped her towel over her shoulders again and this time, made sure to cover her breasts as well. Betty stood up as I reached for her robe. I went to reach for her elbow to provide her support as she exited the tub, but to my surprised, she was able to do so on her own with a fair amount of agility, all things considered.

I held the robe open so Betty could slip her arms into it, but she didn't. My Mother in Law instead moved my arms and the robe to the side, and with her still wet, naked body, hugged me, resting her head gently on my chest. I was at a loss. I perceived this to be an expression of her grief I was not familiar with and went along. Releasing the robe with hand, I hugged her back.

As best as I tried, It proved impossible to keep my own waist far enough from Betty's body. I was hoping to hide my erection from her, but I could feel it pushing against her. Initially, all I could think of was my shame at my inability to control myself but then Betty shifted her embraced from around the trunk of my body to around my neck, with both arms. Her shoulders did not seem to be suffering from the lack of mobility demonstrated just moments earlier.

Betty looked me deeply in the eyes, and commanded that I kiss her. This was no coercion, nor was this an example of me being complacent to not offend a grieving woman. I genuinely desired Betty and kissed her as deeply and as passionately as I've ever kissed a woman in my life.

As our lips locked, she ran her arms along my chest, and my hands rand down her back, grabbing her naked buttocks firmly. Her breathing quickened, her eyes closed as she gasped for air in between kisses. I could feel her her breasts against my body as I held her close. The water from her body penetrating through my own clothes.

Betty then grabbed my crotch through my pants and asked me to take her to bed. She led me by the hand. All I could to was stare as her naked back side and she strutted towards her bedroom. Once in, she turned to me and we began to kiss again. I reached with my hand to her crotch and pressed firmly, but gently onto her clitoris. She moaned. I began to undress and soon, we both stood naked with desire, frustration and guilt between us.

None of those emotions however were more powerful than the lust we felt. I laid her gently onto her back, parted her legs and brought my mouth to her lovely mound. The natural moister of her vagina was clearly distinguishable from the water that had accumulated in her pubic hairs. She pushed my face deeper into her and I licked her labia with rigor and intent. I shifted my tongue to her clitoris, which was a little larger than Maria's, and give it my undivided attention.

Betty moaned with pleasure. She pronounced my name in low, rhythmic gasps. Her hips gyrating and bucking into my face. While my mouth pleasured her clitoris, I used her natural lubricant to play with her pussy lips using my fingers. My mother in Law seemed to like this a lot and it was not long before her low erotic gasps turned into higher pitched, short staccato moans. She was climaxing. Betty pulled my hair tightly, shoving me into her even more. I knew that was the moment to lick her clit as hard as I could until I felt her body settle.

As soon as it did, I crept up her body until we were eye to eye. I kissed her, and she kissed me back. I began to dismount her because I wanted her to know that, If she got what she wanted from me, I was okay with that. We didn't have to do anything else if she didn't want to, but Betty let me know that we were not done. With bedroom room eyes, she moaned, 'no' and grabbed my throbbing dick. Betty's hands were still cold from her bath, and she used them to guide me into her wanting crevice. I penetrated this beautiful woman for the first time and it was amazing.

I began to thrust into her, feeling the pleasure of a woman's body. It had been a couple of years since I had this, and Betty's body felt better than the day I lost my virginity. I posted one arm on the bed to keep my balance as I gyrating my cock in and out of her. I looked up to meet her stare and caressed her face with my free hand. My original intent was to stare at those beautiful eyes while came, but she had closed them. Her face was elegant has it contorted with the pleasure of my manhood deep inside her.

Peripherally, I saw a picture of her daughter, my late wife on her nightstand, Maria looked so happy in it. Would she be happy with what we were doing? There was no way of knowing, but I looked back at Betty and could see all the beautiful features in her face, that I fell in love with in Maria. The thought of both women in my heart reached my groin and made me sell. I could feel myself preparing to cum.

Betty must have sensed it too. She grabbed me by the waist and pressed me into her as if to signal for me to give it to her harder. At that moment, I stopped being her lover and became a based animal, a machine that pumps until its job is done. I wanted to imitate a younger version of myself, and I bucked violently into Betty's wet and hot pussy until I gushed everything I had into her.

That was three months ago. Betty and I have not slept in separate bedrooms since. I don't know what our futures hold in store for us, nor how long it will take for people to question why I haven't moved on. I hope its a long time away because I'm in love with Betty and the sex we have is great.