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The shock of losing a loved one is astounding. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t even cry for God’s sake. I had just lost my best friend. The doctor’s say they attempted to do everything they could. The damned drunk driver at 7:00 pm on a Thursday. She was on her way home from conducting parent teacher conference meetings in late February. I had prepared a special dinner for her, which ended up sitting on the counter for 16 hours.
The day of the funeral was a blur, more because I couldn’t focus on anything more than I had lost my wife. I couldn’t tell you who had come to pay their respects, I was essentially a robot in the receiving line as people told me “I’m so sorry for your loss. Please tell us if there is anything we can do.”
A familiar face stood out in the line. We had worked together for about a year in college before I transferred to another university.I was surprised that she was here, but she always was the type to put others first.
“Ty, I’m so so sorry for your loss.” Angela said to me, our first words in over three years.
“Thank you, Angela. You didn’t have to come. That’s very kind of you,” I responded in my template response of the day.
“I would do anything for you, Ty. You know that,” she said, grabbing my hand. There was a sparkle in her brown eyes, that had I been in the right frame of mind, I might have read into.
“Well, thank you. It really does mean a lot.”
“Listen, I’m not going to hold the line up,” she grabbed my other hand holding them both, “call me, and I’ll bring you dinner this week.”
I thanked her again. Her slender frame hugged a gentle hug with a few rubs on my upper back and moved on. I thought nothing of it and probably wouldn’t call.
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*12 months later*
I had poured myself into my work over the past twelve months, making tremendous strides in my career. I was essentially waking up at 5:30 to go to the gym, exercising for an hour, going to work for 10 hours, and then going back to the gym to swim laps at night. I’d go home and cook dinner and read a chapter of a novel, shower it all off and do it again the next day. Looking back, I think it was a cover for not wanting to be alone.
It was Tuesday in the produce section of my local Publix when I heard a familiar voice behind me.
“You never called me,” Angela said to me. She was in blue scrubs and what’s and gray tennis shoes. She was still very physically I could tell. Her smile lit up the produce section.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to bother you.” I responded with a smile. The first smile in what feels like a year.
“Well I still owe you that dinner. How about Friday?”
I was shocked she still wanted to hold true to her offer. I accepted and gave her directions to my house, not thinking anything about it. She was a good soul that genuinely wanted to take care of people. I suppose that is why she became a nurse, to take care of people.
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*Friday*
I continued my same routine, however I stayed at work for only eight hours versus my usual ten, and then went for my nightly swim. I came home and showered and slipped into a pair of light gray slacks a white polo shirt under a navy blue quarter zip sweater. Since we were staying in I forewent shoes, but opted for a stylish pair of striped socks that matched the rest of the outfit.
The doorbell rang.
I put the last few miscellaneous items away and went for the door. I was taken aback when I opened the door. Standing before me was the half-Latina goddess that I had worked with so long ago. She wore a tight black turtleneck with a gold chain with a cross on the outside, black faded jeans, and black ankle boot heels. Her black hair was pulled up in a messy bun, her make up was fixed just so, and that sparkle in her eye that I had seen a year ago was present again.
“Wow, you look incredible. Come in, it’s starting to snow,” I said looking out over the front yard where snow was starting to stick. We were forecasted for an inch of snow that night.
“Well thank you, you’ve obviously been taking care of yourself,” she rubbed my chest and stomach as she walked by me to the kitchen, her heels clip clopping along the way.
She had brought the ingredients for dinner, not dinner itself. Which is fine, the company was nice. We broke into a bottle of wine that she had brought and carried on some small talk while she cooked. She wouldn’t allow me to help slapping my hand if I tried.
One thing about the south is people knew how to make comfort food. It may not be conducive to your fitness goals, but in times of grief, it does make a difference. She was making pan seared sirloin, baked mac and cheese, sauteed green beans, and a few pieces of chocolate cake for dessert. We laughed about old times back at work at the car wash that we worked at in college, the people we worked with there, and what we’ve been doing since then. She had been keeping in good shape. She had actually gotten out of nursing and into teaching nursing at the university I graduated from, so she had actually been living in town for the past two years and I didn’t know it.
She had dinner ready and she at least let me set the table.
“Those lights are so bright, do you have any candles we could eat by? That will make watching the snow out the window so much better,” she said as I was getting plates and silverware in place.
“As you wish, my lady,” I joked with her as I gathered some candles that were sitting around the house.
The table was set, with three candles set between us flickering light. Angela brought over dinner with another bottle of wine from my collection, as we had already put away the bottle that she brought. We ate, we drank, we continued to laugh. We had no concept of time, just two old friends spending time together. We had just finished dessert when I turned on the gas fireplace and we sat on the couch continuing our conversation and bottle of wine.
“Can I ask you something?” She asked, getting a serious tone about her.
“Sure.” I said, as I took another sip of pinot.
“Why did you never ask me out when we worked together?”
She had stumped me, I was always attracted to her and always thought that she was a fantastic person.
“I guess I just thought that you were too good for me. I mean you’re very obviously beautiful,” she smiled, “and you’re an incredible person. I just never thought that I had an inkling of a shot.”
She leaned in and kissed me. I was shocked at someone’s lips on mine. It had been over a year since I had been kissed. Not since the morning that Kate was killed.
“I’m sorry,” she drew back, “I should go. I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
I grabbed her hand.
“No, it’s okay. I’ve always wanted that to happen. I was just shocked that it did, and I’m hoping that it wasn’t the wine,” I confessed to her.
“It wasn’t the wine. I’ve always wanted that too. I really should go though, it’s getting late,” she said gathering her things.
I reluctantly helped her, but it was after midnight. I walked her to the door, she turned to say something, and I kissed her again. She smiled, and had that same glimmer in her eye.
“I guess I owe you dinner now,” I told her.
“No you don’t,” she rejected.
“How about I take you to dinner anyways?” I was more direct with my request for a date.
“I’d like that,” she smiled as she opened the door.
Somewhere in the night we hadn’t noticed that the snow never stopped coming. The roads were covered and we had what looked to be six inches on the ground and roads.
I closed the door and pulled her to me at the same time, “You’re not going anywhere,” I said as I put my lips on hers.
Our lips met with passion, and wanting. We both had apparently wanted this but had let the desire build within for years. The cold from outside had filled the house. We hurried back to the fireplace where we both sat, positioned with our legs stretched out in opposite directions, so that we could be looking at each other.
“Well what do we do now?” she asked.
“I’ve got an idea,” I said, getting up, out of the floor.
I grabbed my phone and went over to an old record player that I had refurbished. I grabbed a vinyl record of various old jazz tunes and put it on, playing softly in the corner. I walked back over to the fireplace.
“If we were going to go on a date, it would be dinner and dancing,” I confessed to her, “we’ve already got the dinner out of the way, so how about some dancing?”
She smiled as she took my hand to help her out of the floor. When she got to her feet, she raised her right arm and draped it over my shoulder as we began slowly swaying to the music. I had no idea of the song or artist, I had picked the record up at the thrift store for $1 when I bought the record player, but it turned out to be pretty good so I kept it in rotation.
We danced for two songs, not saying a word just looking into each other’s eyes. Living in the moment.
“Truth or dare?” she asked me with a sly grin.
“Dare,” I responded.
“Kiss me again.”
I took both hands and put them gently on each side of her neck with my thumbs placed just in front of her ears. I kissed her. Her lips were soft. I caught the gentle aroma of vanilla as all of my senses were heightened. I slid my tongue in her mouth, even though we had just eaten and been drinking wine, she had the taste of peppermint.
“Truth or dare?” I asked back to her.
“Truth,” she responded.
“Have you ever spent the night with a man on the first date?”
She laughed, “No I haven’t. It looks like this will be the first.”
“Truth or dare?” She came back to me.
“Truth.”
“Do you want to sleep with me?”
I sighed. I didn’t know how to play this one. She was a very beautiful woman, and I was beyond attracted to her. This had quickly turned into the first date I had been on in six years. I would consider myself lucky to be with her, but at the same time. I didn’t want to rush into anything.
“Yes,” I decided to be completely honest.
She looked at me almost in shock, I sensed a little anger. That scowl turned into a smile as as she leaned in and kissed me. Our tongues met again. Our breathing intensified and things were hotter and heavier than they had been previously. She reached down and released the hook clasp on my pants and unzipped.
I pulled away and grabbed a blanket from the couch. I walked back over and spread it out in front of the fireplace and pulled her back into me. As she came back in closer, she slipped her hands inside of my sweater and lifted it over my head. I wrapped my arms around her and began untucking her black sweater from her jeans. I lifted it over her head to reveal a heathered black bra holding her small b-cup breasts and the tightest midsection you’ve seen. She rushed through the two buttons on my polo to get my shirt off. She pulled my head back to hers where our lips met and our tongues rejoined each other. I could feel my pants sliding down, unassisted. I unbuttoned her pants and slid the zipper down. I let my pants fall as I began working her pants down over her plump ass. She had to pull her legs out of the legs of the skinny jeans, which gave me a chance to admire the beautifully fit body that she had created for herself. She wore panties that matched the bra that she wore. Having a hispanic heritage, she was naturally tan, as I was much more fair skinned in the middle of winter.
When she got her pants off, our bodies came back together, as if they were meant to be there. Her skin was soft, warm, perfect. She pulled her lips away from mine and began kissing my neck. My head leaned back as I took a deep breath of satisfaction. Her lips moved down my chest, her hands tracing my skin along the way, leaving me with chill bumps. She finally got to her knees as she reached into the waistband of my boxer briefs to pull them down. I took a deep breath as she wrapped her lips around my dick. The first sexual touch I had experienced in more than 12 months. She was gentle, slow, and intimate in her movements. She glanced up at me as she fit my entire cock in her sweet mouth.
A few moments that felt like eternity had gone by. I removed my dick from her mouth and got on my knees to join her, our mouths reuniting. I unhooked her bra and slipped it off. She pulled away and lay down on her back, her legs bent, extending one in the air. We exchanged a smile as I reached up towards her panties and began to slide them towards me. I gently spread her legs and began kissing on each leg alternating between right and left as I worked my way up. I lay down on my stomach as I got to her sweet spot. I began gently licking, massaging her clit with my tongue. I wanted to be as gentle and intimate as she was with me. She began to gently moan as I relished the taste of her pussy. I kept my work delicate, taking my time with her, ensuring that she would receive the most satisfaction that she could.
She let out a loud moan followed by a loud, breathy “Oh my God, I’m going to cum.”
I kept licking her clit until after her legs had quit twitching. I knew that she had reached her orgasm. I began to move up and kiss her tight stomach, I took an erect nipple in my mouth and gently worked it over with my tongue while massaging the other breast with my hand. I moved past her breasts to her neck and began to kiss and nibble.
“I want you inside me,” she moaned as I made the beginnings of a hickey on her neck.
I kissed her lips, and looked deeply into her eyes. I could tell that she didn’t think this was just a hook up. I could see care and tenderness in her eyes. I made my move and positioned my tip at her opening. She slid her hands down my back, gently scratching my back along the way. Her hands landed on my ass and I slowly started inserting my rod. Her hands tightened their grip on my ass as my entire length was inside her. I began slowly thrusting, feeling the heat of the fireplace on my side. I hadn’t been with someone since the wreck, I was out of practice but was doing what I remembered how. It seemed to be working from the arch in Angela’s back.
I could feel myself getting close, so I pulled out and flipped over to my back. Angela instinctively mounted me, I sat up and took a nipple in my mouth as she rode me. She began to moan louder and louder as she rode me faster, our faces together. I picked her up off my cock and flipped her back over on her back. I was aggressive in getting back inside her. I began thrusting faster and harder. I was getting to the verge, the sound of her moans pushing me over the edge. At the very last moment I pulled out, my cum spraying out onto her stomach, her clit, her labia.
I flipped over on my back, the chest beads running down my chest. Angela cuddled up to me as I put my arm around her.
“I’ve wanted that for so long,” Angela said.
“I didn’t realize it, but I had too,” I said, finally being honest with myself.
“Let’s go take a shower and go to bed,” she said, getting up and grabbing my hand.
I got up, and she pulled me in to kiss her. I obliged. I could feel my cum transferring from her stomach to mine. She turned towards the master suite, me watching her ass as she left. I was feeling something I haven’t felt in so long. I reached down and turned the fireplace off and followed her.
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I only write fiction stories, and only write as they come to me. I have a few stored up and can put them out quickly right now, but will slow down eventually.
Comment or send me a chat and let me know. I especially appreciate the feedback of women, as I think my writing style is geared more towards women.
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Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/va26ss/how_the_widower_28m_recovered_from_his_wifes
I like it. Just enough details without getting vulgar. Good writing style.