My eyes were tightly closed, hands behind his head, back arched, as I tried to pull my lover’s mouth closer, vainly attempting to get more of my breast into the mouth of the one man I loved more than life itself, moaning. "Ohhh, yes, suck them....suck my titties… suck them hard."
It felt so good having a man’s lips on my breasts for the first time in nearly year and a half, my lower body was trashing around searching for something…anything to satiate the hunger of my long starved cunt. The only problem was that the man doing the sucking and hearing my encouragement wasn’t the one I was really speaking to. In my mind I was pretending it was someone else making love to me.
Sam’s hand moved from one of my breasts to my mound and began fingering my pussy. I tried to clear my mind and concentrate on him but it didn’t do any good. As horny as I was, I began losing the ecstasy of the moment until I began fantasizing again. Just bringing my imaginary lover to mind again created a sudden fire in my loins begging to be extinguished immediately.
"Fuck me, Darling, fuck me now." I moaned in my mind.
Sam was panting in my ear. "Oh, Yes, Marcy, you are so hot and wet."
"I know, Darling, I know. I want you now. I want you to make me cum. I want your beautiful cock in my pussy now." I begged aloud as I spread my legs wider, not realizing, nor caring who I was talking to.
The combination of Sam’s cock and my vision rapidly brought me to that long desired pinnacle….then heavenly release.
"I’m cummmmming....cumming....oh yes yes .....yes...yes....soooo good."
I lay there for awhile, catching my breath, eyes closed, savoring my dream as long as I could before facing stark reality. I finally gave up and went to the bathroom, with the familiar longing still in my belly and the ache in my heart, to cleanse the feel of Sam from my body, hoping I could also cleanse the whole episode from my mind. The entire incident had came about due to what I thought were good intentions, but when I realized that I had made a mistake it was too late to back out. As I headed back to bed, I was wondering how to get rid of Sam gracefully. As I got back to the bed, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. I thought I was going to gag.
"Marcy, that was so good. I think we both needed it."
I laid a hand on his cheek and smiled sweetly. "I know I did. Thank you so much."
"May I spend the night?"
"No, Sam. As much as I would love it," I lied. "I don’t want the neighbors talking."
"I understand."
I got up again and threw on a robe while he dressed, then walked with him to the front door.
"When can I see you again?" He whispered against my lips as he fondled my left breast.
"Get your fucking hands off of me and leave." I screamed in my head, but said aloud. "I don’t know. Ricky will be home in a few days for Christmas. Call me later in the week."
"I can’t wait." He whispered as he kissed me again.
"I can." I thought.
After he left, I got a glass of wine, curled up on the couch in the living room and began mulling over my dilemma.
My husband, Richard, had passed away about six months before, leaving me, a 38 year old widow, with a 19 year old son, after being sick with cancer for a year. Richard and I loved each other very much. We were very conservative in appearance to the public, Richard being a well known businessman in a relatively small town, but we went wild in the bedroom. We both loved sex and when we were horny, which was often the case, our imaginations knew no limits. But I had been celibate since he got sick. It was without a doubt the roughest year of my life.
Ricky, my son, was between high school and college when his Dad got sick. He had always been very mature for his age, so when his father became bedridden, Rick refused to go away for the first year of college. Instead, he took a couple of courses at the local community college in order to stay at home and help me. Over that year he became the man of the house, taking over all the chores his father used to take care of plus some of mine. Many times he would hold me while I cried my eyes out. I received all of my emotional strength from him during that period. I guess it was during that time that I began seeing him as a man instead of my son.
A couple of months after my husband passed away, Ricky left for college as originally planned. With both of them out of the house I cried almost every night because of the loneliness. It was over three months after Richard died before I began to feel the desire for sex again. That’s when I began masturbating for the first time since I got married. When I first started, I would try to picture Richard in my mind but that image would be immediately replaced by that of his son. Just looking at Ricky’s photos, speaking with him on the phone or thinking about him would create those old familar sexual yearnings, causing a terrible guilt.
Thanksgiving was especially rough that year. We were at my in-law’s but even there it was difficult to keep from dragging him into a bedroom and raping him. It was so bad that I couldn’t sleep at night, knowing that the object of my illicit desire was just a couple of doors away. At the time I blamed it on just being horny. After all he was my son and a mother wasn’t supposed to feel that way about her offspring. I felt deliciously depraved and guilty at the same time. I finally decided that the only cure was to get laid.
There was a family friend named Sam who had been sniffing around me even before Bob died. Don’t get me wrong, he was a lot of help to me, but I knew he was ready to jump into bed with me at a moments notice. Sam and his wife had been family friends for about 10 years until his wife suddenly found a new religion and went off to commune with something or somebody about two years before. After that Sam just kind of hung around like a lost dog. He was a lot of help to me during my husband’s illness and throughout the mourning period, but I never thought of him as anything more than just a friend.
