Helping Her Through the Divorce [mF]

This probably started with a call from my mother-in-law about six months ago. My wife's family was a relatively close-knit one, so it was rare for anyone to have a secret to divulge, much less one as big as this: my wife's aunt was getting a divorce. It wasn't much of a secret to us that their marriage had been an unhappy one, but it was a shock nonetheless, and clearly enough of one that she hadn't elected to tell us herself, even though she was half an hour away on the train. We all felt bad for her – her kids were grown and no longer in the area, and she suddenly had this cavernous house in the suburbs to herself.

It was about a month later that I started going over there to help out. I would take the train from the city once or twice a month and take care of some of the household chores – mow the lawn, patch drywall, move things into and out of storage. For the most part I went up alone, and I would stay well into the evening, usually cooking dinner for her as well.

At first we didn't talk about the divorce, or really anything in her personal life, just the long to-do list of household chores. But after the fifth or sixth visit, she started to open up a little. She was by no means a vulnerable person, and she projected an even tougher demeanor to keep people from pitying her, but she clearly wasn't okay with everything that had happened. Little by little, the details started to tumble out while we weeded her garden or ate dinner together – how unhappy the marriage had been, how distant they had become, how they hadn't even shared a bed for a year before it ended. For someone as reserved and proper as she, her sharing that last detail came as a surprise and left me squirming with a bit of awkward discomfort. But it was a detail she was clearly fixated on, because it kept cropping up in our conversations. I wasn't about to tell my wife's aunt, who was well into her 50s, that she should just sign up for tindr and fix the problem, but it was clearly the solution she was hinting at.

Two visits later we started on the same topic as I was getting ready to mow her lawn. It was a hot day, and I had already taken my shirt off as we stood there talking in her driveway. The conversation wasn't anything new, at least until she dropped the act and said what she was missing:

"I haven't had sex in a year and a half."

If I wasn't squirming before, I was then. She was being incredibly direct with me, and given my state of half-undress, it felt more than a little awkward. I tried to think of a platitude that would address her comment and not make me feel incredibly uncomfortable, but it was no use. I just started the mower and went about my work, while she retired to the house. I saw her peering out a few times while I mowed, first from the living room, then from her bedroom upstairs. Not entirely odd, but also not something she normally would do when I was working.

All of this left my mind – and apparently my feet – racing. I finished her lawn quicker than usual and headed back into the house, still shirtless and coated in a sheen of sweat. I made my way up the stairs so I could shower and change – something I usually did before catching the train home. I was about to enter the hall bathroom when a noise caught my ear from behind the half-closed bedroom door. It was a high pitched but quiet whine. At first I thought it was an electric toothbrush, so I made my way toward the door so I could tell her that I had finished and that I was going to shower before fixing dinner.

In retrospect I probably knew what I was hearing, but I pushed the door open anyway. There she was, lying on the bed, her jeans unbuttoned and her right hand placed inside, maneuvering what must have been a very small vibrator. Her long brown hair was tossed about on the pillow, and her cheeks had taken on a ruddy tone. For that split second, while she lay there with her eyes closed, clearly close to ecstasy, I admired her body. It was usually hidden under a decidedly frumpy wardrobe, but I could appreciate how fit her legs and abs were, even at her age, and I could clearly see how she could have been one hell of a catch when she was younger.

And then floorboard creaked under my foot. Her eyes shot open and her hand ripped itself from her pants. She looked at me, embarrassed and horrified, and I did my level best to appear just as shocked, as though I had only just entered the room. Unfortunately the shorts I had worn to mow the lawn were not as convincing, and I was forced to quickly turn and hide a growing bulge. We both looked at each other, unsure how to proceed, until I broke the silence by telling her I would be taking a shower now.

I was completely hard by the time the water hit me. I was struggling to think of what I could say to her, whether I should talk to my wife, whether I should come back at all. She would probably be too embarrassed to have dinner with me that night, anyway. Maybe I would just give it a few weeks before helping out again.

I finished my shower and had barely taken one step out into the steam-filled bathroom when door creaked open. I quickly wrapped my towel around my waist and waited to see what she needed from me at such an awkward moment. What I didn't expect was for her to step into the bathroom, clad only in a black bra and matching panties. They weren't anything special, but they were probably the sexiest things in her dresser. She matched me step for step – her advancing, me retreating – until my back was against the wall. Her eyes showed determination, as though she had made up her mind while I was showering and there was no going back.

My erection strained under the towel as she positioned her self inches away from me, her eyes locked on mine. I tried to say something, anything to break the tension, but she countered with a finger to my lips. It lingered there for a second, then moved downward, caressing my chest, then stomach, then hooking into the top of my wrapped towel. With a silent tug it fell to the floor, leaving me standing there, naked and erect, as her finger continued its southward journey.

She ran her fingers along my shaft, first one, then two, until her hand wrapped around it and started gently stroking. Her silent determination made it feel that much more forbidden, and it left me harder than I could remember. With her hand still stroking, she leaned in and placed her lips on mine. Our tongues met, gently at first, then frantically. She moved in closer, until I could feel the lace and padding of her bra pressed against my chest. My hands left my slide and moved to her hips, pulling her to me. They wandered from there, cupping her ass, grazing her inner thigh with my fingers, each moan into my mouth encouraging me further. We had moved far past the point of no return.

Her stroking, like our kiss, grew faster, until she broke it in one sudden motion. She stared into my eyes and gave me a wry smile, then slowly lowered herself onto her knees. She stroked if a few more times, then placed her lips on the head. There was a moment of hesitation, as if she was wondering if this was too far, but her lips soon enveloped me. I could feel her tongue flicking my shaft as she moved further down it, her hand still pumping furiously near the base. For someone who hadn't gotten laid in over a year, she was still very, very skilled.

For moment I considered finishing like that, so we wouldn't take it any farther, but I knew that this was about her and not me. I pushed back on her shoulder so I could pull out, then reached down and cupped her cheek in my hand, our gazes telegraphing lust back and forth. She took the hint and stood up, still silent, and walked to the bedroom with me in tow. Her hand reached behind her back and unclasped the bra, allowing it to fall to the floor. Her breasts were surprisingly firm, if a little small. Her panties followed suit, revealing a neatly trimmed V of black hair.

I walked over to her and kissed her again, moving her back until her legs stuck the bed and she fell backwards onto it. She gladly laid back and spread her legs for me, showing just how wet she was. I kissed along the inside of her thigh, bringing myself closer and closer until I could feel the subtle heat radiating from between her legs. I ran my tongue up her wet slit, causing her breath to seize for a moment. I continued to tease her with these gentle licks until she grabbed hold of my hair and pulled me closer. I greeted her pussy with enthusiasm, pushing my tongue into her slit and moving upward to her clit. Her breathing quickened as I moved my focus there, first with flicks of my tongue, then with more pressure and speed. She thrashed underneath me, moaning and grabbing at my hair. Each moan made me bury my face deeper in her, until her thighs were wrapped around my head. I kept my pace, pushing hard until I could feel her body start to quake and a short, high-pitched moan escape from her as she came.

Her grip on my head relaxed as she laid back, spreading her legs further and inviting me. I positioned myself between her legs and rubbed my hard cock along her soaking wet lips. I looked at her for approval, and she gave a quick, eager nod. With that I plunged in. Though she was old, such a long dry spell had made her tight. She winced a little as she took me, but with a few strokes we were in a good rhythm. I picked up the pace, pounding harder and eliciting more moans from her. Once again I could feel her body quiver and her pussy tighten. Her cheeks flushed red with the orgasm, and she cried out, not with the short moan from earlier, but with one that the neighbors must have heard.

It was too much for me to continue through, and I let loose a torrent inside of her. We slowed to a halt, me still inside of her, and stared at each other. There was a realization on both our parts of what we had done, that there was no undoing the act. I started to speak, to try to find the right words to say, but she pulled me close and kissed me again. She smiled and brushed my cheek with her hand, before finally breaking the silence:

"Something tells me I have enough work around the house to keep you here all night."

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/2c96ez/helping_her_through_the_divorce_mf

2 comments

  1. Well done! The pacing was very good! You really show effort in this piece. There was a really good balance between story and sex. The story was innocent and transitioned well into the fucking. The characters were relatable to as well. The sex scene fit the style and theme of the over all writing. She was indeed a milf, but she didn’t suddenly become a porn star and started taking him up the ass (although that could change in the near future?). The man wasn’t oblivious but knew what he wanted. In other words, the characters feel real. This is well written erotica. I look forward to reading more of your work.

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