The Widower and the WaifbyMrFalkirk©
It was a wild midsummer's night. The rain was pelting down in sheets and the wind was howling through the trees like the banshee's lonely wail. I was sitting in my favorite chair with a half full bottle of single malt Scotch in my left hand and a revolver in my right hand. There was only one bullet in the revolver and I was getting up my Dutch courage to play the first round of Russian roulette.
Click! I downed another shot of Scotch and spun the cylinder on the revolver.
As I poured another shot into my glass, I heard a faint tapping at the door, or was it something tapping inside my head? Ever since my wife had died in a horrible hit-and-run accident, I had been feeling rather more than depressed. The rest of the family called me a basket case and I guess that I was. Tonight, I had reached the end of my rope and somebody forgot to tie a knot in it.
Tap! Tap! Tap! It had to be coming from the front door. Maybe, just maybe, if I ignored it, whoever it was would go away and leave me to my Russian roulette.
I live out in the country and my nearest neighbor is easily a mile away through some mighty dense woods so I don't get many visitors banging on my door in the middle of a downpour...and it was pouring like the forty days and nights that led up to the Great Flood that floated Noah's ark full of animals.
Tap! Tap! Tap! I roused myself and somehow managed to get to my feet. In my drunken state that was no mean accomplishment. How I managed to navigate my way to the door was another mystery that my brain had no desire to investigate. What happened next totally took my unawares. I opened the door to find a shivering young lady dressed in...dressed in nothing but the suit she was born with. As I opened the door, she literally collapsed dripping wet on my hardwood floor. The wind was blowing rain directly at the door so somehow I managed to drag her into the house and lean hard enough against the door to get it closed.
I looked at my naked visitor and felt my cock begin to expand, something it hadn't done in the six months since my wife was killed. The girl in front of me was a natural redhead and was a bit on the small side. I doubt that she weighed over 110 pounds or stood five feet tall in high heels. Her small breasts sported a pair of nipples that stuck out at least a quarter of an inch in the cold and wet. In my drunken state I guessed her age at no more than twenty, but at least eighteen. How I made that determination I have no earthly idea, but it was a best guess at the time.
Seeing the girl laying at my feet snapped me into an instant sobriety and I managed to bend over placing my arms under her shoulders and her knees. She was as light as a feather and I laid her on my couch. I noticed her skin was mottled blue and full of goose pimples so I dragged a comforter over from the back of a nearby chair and covered her with it, but only after taking another really long look at her beautiful young body. My cock was now at full mast and I tried to will it down, but it wouldn't go down without a fight so I took off for the bathroom and fisted myself into a gigantic cum. It only took about thirty seconds for my sperm to shoot out and into the toilet. It had been a long time since the last time I had been sexually active: six months and several hours was the way I had it figured. Tonight was the six month mark of my widowerhood.
Sexually satisfied, I took my clothes off and dragged myself into my bedroom where I fell asleep without pulling the covers over me. I don't think I moved all night. It was the first really good night's sleep I had in quite some time.
When I awoke, the morning sun was playing hide and seek with my eyelids and my stomach was trying out for the local high school gymnastics team...with a good chance of winning the state championships. My head was pounding and there was a strange smell coming from somewhere. I staggered to my feet and managed somehow to get myself into the bathroom where I relieved myself of my morning load of urine, looked at the haggard face in the mirror and swore I would never touch Scotch again--at least not until nightfall. Foregoing the clothes that I had taken off the night before, I walked towards the kitchen in my original birthday suit even if it did sag a bit in places. The smell was still there and got stronger as I left my bedroom in the direction of the kitchen which had been a mess when I left it the previous afternoon.
My eyes did a double take as I walked through the kitchen door. The dishes had been washed and put away. The smell had been coffee which was in a mug in front of my chair at the table along with the milk and sugar.
My eyes did another double take as I looked at the girl standing in front of the stove with a spatula in one hand. She was dressed in one of my dead wife's almost see-through nightgowns that did little to hide her charms. Her mouth was moving, but I couldn't hear anything she was saying.
"Excuse me. Who the fuck are you, young lady?"
"My name is Brianna, but everybody calls me Bree. And who the fuck are you?"
"My name is Henry, but everybody calls me Hank. Now, what are you doing in my wife's nightgown?"
"I-I-I found it in your bedroom closet. I had to have something to put on. I woke up naked on the couch and I needed something to wear, didn't I?"
"Hmmmm. You do have a point there. OK. You got the nightgown from the closet. Fair enough."
"How would you like your eggs?"
"Over easy. Hey! What the hell are you doing standing at my stove cooking eggs?"
"Well, I figured you might be hungry this morning. By the way, where did you put my clothes? And where are your own?"
"What clothes?" I passed on answering about where my clothes were, after all it was my house and I could walk around naked if I wanted.
"The ones I had on."
It started to come back to my still recalcitrant mind. This was the girl who had fallen naked through my doorway last night just as I was starting my game of Russian roulette.
"Uh, you didn't have any on."
"I did too! I never go out naked. Did you? Did we? Uh, you know?"
"Well, sweetheart, you were certainly very naked and very, very cold and wet when you fell through my door and landed at my feet. And, no we didn't. I was too fucking drunk to worry about sex last night." It was just a small lie after what I had done in the bathroom, but she would never know. "Say, did you see a revolver laying around?"
"Yeah. How do you like your bacon?"
"Extra crisp. Well, where is it? The revolver, I mean."
"I put it away where you can't hurt yourself. One bullet. A bottle of Scotch. Passed out naked and drunk on your bed. You were going to kill yourself weren't you?" The tone of her voice made me mentally wince, it was that sharp. "Weren't you?"
"Yeah. I guess I was going to try to keep playing until I lost."
"Hank, that's fucked up...big time fucked up."
"You don't know the whole story, as they say."
"Hey, I know enough not to put a gun to my head and pull the trigger. That's the only story I need to know. And why aren't you wearing any clothes?"
"Listen, Bree, is it? This is my house and what I wear in my house is none of your damn business." Unfortunately, my smaller head was beginning to get very interested in what I could see of Bree's young body which was only partially covered by the very revealing nightgown. That head decided it was also time to rise and stiffen. I tried to ignore it, but every look at Bree caused it to rise and stiffen a bit more.
"Yeah, you're right. It isn't any of my damn business."
"Now, young lady, I have a question or two for you. First, where the hell are your own clothes? Secondly, where did you come from?"
She put the food on the table before answering my questions. "First, I don't know where the hell my clothes are. The last time I saw them, they were on me and I don't remember taking them off. I suppose you won't admitting to taking them off me?" Bree bristled and glared daggers at me. "Secondly, I'm from Charlottetown. Third, where are your clothes right now? Your thingy there seems to be getting awfully stiff."
"Bree, you are one hell of a long way from Charlottetown...at least a hundred miles and probably a bit more. My clothes are still in my room where I left them. And, dear girl, if I were so interested in ending my life why would I undress you, hide your clothes, and then leave you on my couch without fucking the hell out of you?"
"I-I-I don't know." Bree was obviously on the verge of tears. "I-I-I was a virgin until last night. I thought you had raped me. I was bleeding from down there and there was some gooey stuff dripping out."
How did I ever miss that last night? I really must have been drunker than I had thought. By now my lower appendage was at full staff and saluting the idea of fucking this girl eight days to Sunday, but I knew I shouldn't and couldn't push that issue in her current frame of mind. I sat down before my small head could rear any further into the air, not that sitting down was going to make him behave himself.
"Bree, my wife died in a hit-and-run accident six months ago yesterday. That was the reason for my playing that game of Russian roulette. Ever since she died I have had absolutely no desire for sex in any form, but after seeing you wet, cold, and very naked, I went into the bathroom and jerked on my cock until I came...and, boy did I ever come. I never touched you except to pick you up and lay you on the couch. and I have never in my life raped anybody. These are very good eggs, by the way. And, the bacon is just the way I like it." That brought a small smile to her face and her blue eyes twinkled in the morning light.
"Yes, please. You also make some very good coffee."
"My father was an old soldier who liked his coffee hot, strong, and sweet...just like he said he liked his women."
I took a long look at this waif that had literally fallen through my door. Her red hair was wavy now that it was dry and even in a ponytail extended beneath her shoulder blades. Her tits, while not very large, still seemed to be at least a small B-cup and were proportionate to the rest of her body rather slim body. I watched as she got up and went to the coffee pot to refill our cups and admired the way her hips rolled when she walked. She may have been a virgin up until last night, but she sure knew she was beautiful and knew how to make the most of what she had.
Bree sat down and started her own breakfast. "So what do you do?"
"What do I do?"
"Yes, what do you do for work?"
"Oh. I'm retired."
"Retired from what?"
"From life. No, really, I retired from a software consulting firm six months ago the day after tomorrow."
"You retired the day of your wife's funeral?"
"Yes. Bree, I'd rather not go down that road, if you don't mind."
"OK, I understand."
We sat there in silence for a long time. I didn't know what to do with Bree and she didn't know what to make of me. We both sipped at our coffee and looked out the French door towards the backyard and the woods immediately beyond.
"Well, I guess I need to clean up the dishes." Bree got to her feet and started clearing away the remains of our breakfast scraping my plate into hers and gathering up the silver. She left the coffee cups and brought the coffee pot to the table refilling our cups from the last of the pot. "I'll make some more, if you want?"
"No, thank you, Bree. Not for me. If you want some, you're welcome to have some, but I've had my limit for the morning."
Looking at her breasts hanging down as she poured the coffee into our cups got a reaction from my little soldier who was rapidly standing to full attention. While I wasn't the biggest cock on the walk, I could hold my own in a cock measuring contest and not be ashamed of my endowment.
Bree's breasts were pert, somewhat on the smallish side but very well formed none-the-less, and capped with darker nubbins that seemed to be harder every time I looked at them. I was very glad I was sitting down so my predicament wasn't overtly obvious. My mind was conjuring up all sorts of lascivious images of Bree and it was with a great effort that I pulled my eyes off the twin peaks of her breasts. As I looked up, I saw Bree smiling back at me. There was a twinkle in her eyes that told me the smile wasn't a faked one.
"Liked what you saw, huh?"
That stumped me for about ten seconds before I realized that the little vixen had meant for me to see her breasts hanging down.
"Uh, yeah, I guess I did at that. You are a very pretty young lady and that gown has always been one of my favorites. Debbie bought it to seduce me into buying her a diamond necklace."
"Did it work?"
"The seduction, did she get her diamond necklace?"
"I never told her, but I had already bought it for her. She never needed to seduce me into buying her anything. I just..." My voice faltered as I started getting emotional again. "Why the hell did you fall against my door last night? I could have been so much cold meat right now."
"But I did fall against your door and you aren't cold meat. You are very much alive and you took me into your house without any ulterior motives. That has to be a first for me. Men always seem to want to stick their hard cocks in any hole they can find, and as hard as I have tried, I had only managed to save my virginity in one of them, my...well, you know what I'm talking about."
"Yes I do and I'm glad I didn't take it last night."
"Thank you for not taking it, Hank. That meant a lot to me and I wanted to be the one to decide who got to that part of my body first."
"Well, we'd better find some clothes for you to wear around here. Follow me."
Bree followed me into the master bedroom and she picked out a sexy tube top that held her breasts reasonably well and a pair of cut-off shorts that barely hid her treasure hole. It seemed that Bree and Debbie wore the same size...almost anyway.
Bree laughed and I smiled as she picked out the clothes and then she shooed me out the door while she changed from the gown to the outfit she had chosen. Her modesty was refreshing considering I had seen her entirely naked body the night before. Still, my cock gave an appreciative little jerk as I thought about how lovely her body had been laying in all of its nakedness.
I smiled as I walked back into the kitchen and decided to make myself another pot of coffee, this time with a bit of Scotch in it. I got the coffee made and reached into the cabinet where I keep my Scotch only to find it as bare as Old Mother Hubbard's cupboard. Oh well, I sipped the hot coffee thinking how well Bree had made it and the rest of the breakfast, how easily she had fit into my world, the world that I had almost departed.
I closed my eyes and saw Debbie smiling at me. When I opened them Bree was standing in front of me replacing my mental image of Debbie with her own. The problem was that Bree in the tube top and cut-off shorts looked a hell of a lot like my dead wife and I didn't know how long I could take it.
"Well, how do I look?"
"Great. Just great." was my response as I took in her charms. Beneath the tube top her nipples were making a pair of small dark tents. The shorts just barely covered the vee between her legs and I could see the stray hair peeking out from either side of the thin strip of fabric. "Just don't sit down anytime soon or you will show everything that you are trying to hide with those shorts."
"I know. I already tried sitting down in them. These shorts don't leave much to the imagination do they?"
"No-o-o-o, they sure don't. Are you sure you wouldn't be more comfortable in something else?"
She smiled at me and said "No, I'm really OK right now."
"Well, if you feel comfortable, then I guess I better get junior to behave."
"Yeah, Junior. The little head between my legs with a brain of his own that seems to go into high gear whenever he sees a nice pair of tits and a half-naked ass."
"You know, I bet there are some panties in my wife's drawers if you want something a bit more modest."
"Thanks. Maybe later. Right now, I want to try to figure out what happened and how I ended up naked on your couch."
"Well, what were you doing last night?"
"I went to this new nightclub in Camden and..."
"I always go out alone. I don't have many friends."
"A pretty girl like you? You don't have many friends? That's hard to believe."
Bree did me the courtesy of blushing at my compliment before she continued. "Yes, well anyways I went to this new club in Camden and had a couple of drinks. There was this really nice guy there and we danced and danced."
"Camden? That's a good distance from here. Does Mr. Really Nice have another name?"
"I honestly don't remember. That's the really weird part about it, I don't even remember if I left the club with him or not. And I don't remember anything other than the dancing and his blue eyes until I woke up on your couch without any clothes on me. At first, I thought he had taken me home to his place, but he was much younger than you are and he said his apartment was only a couple of miles from the club."
"Thanks. I didn't realize I was that old."
"Oh, I didn't mean anything bad about that...it's just that he was about my age or maybe a bit older. No more than 25 or 26."
My eyes started fixating on Bree's nipples which were still tenting the tube top with their dark areolas. She noticed my stare and smiled at me as I looked up. "My mom always said that my tits and my hair color were my best assets. You seem to agree with her."
"I wouldn't argue with her on either score, but I am more enthralled with your voice. It's absolutely melodious."
She had the modesty to blush once again. "Why, thank you, kind sir."
"Don't thank me. I only stated the obvious."
"You know, I could get to like you, Hank. You are really a nice person."
I didn't blush, but the words cheered me somewhat. "Thank you. Now that we have that out of the way, do you remember anything else that happened last night?"
"I do remember feeling a bit dizzy at the nightclub, but thought that I had a little too much to drink. Then the lights went out."
"Did you have a purse with you last night?"
"Yes! I did. I had just cashed my paycheck and decided to go celebrate."
"It was the first time since my parents died that I felt good enough to go out and do some dancing."
"When did your parents die? You don't drink much do you?"
"They died about a year ago in a building fire. And, no, I don't drink too much. Good girls aren't supposed to drink much and I've never really liked the taste of the hard stuff...oh, some of the wine is OK, but the hard stuff burns going down my throat."
"Yep. It would definitely do that. OK, so what did you do with your purse?"
"I don't know."
"I guess Mr. Really Nice could probably tell us if we could ever find him."
"I suppose. I had over $400 in that purse. I guess I can kiss it good-bye, can't I?"
I nodded my head in the affirmative and got up. Junior was still leading the way as I walked towards my bedroom. "Well, I guess I had better cover Junior up before he makes a mess all over the floor. Your body is just too nice to keep him disinterested."
Bree followed me into the bedroom and watched as I started to pull on a pair of cut-off shorts and a t-shirt. I had the t-shirt just about over my head when she reached up and stopped me.
"The clothes won't be necessary."
"It is unless you want me to fuck you."
"Maybe I do want you to fuck me. I've got an itch that I think needs some scratching and I can't reach it."
"Have you now?"
"Yes, I do" came her reply as she removed the clothes she was wearing. She soon stood in front of me just as naked as she had been the night before. I stood stock still as Bree's hand unsnapped the waistband of my shorts and lowered the zipper. My shorts fell in a pile on the floor and I stepped out of them. Bree reached over and took my stiffened cock in her small hands. She started a gentle up and down motion sliding the skin back and forth over the turgid meat underneath. I honestly couldn't remember ever being harder than I was at that very moment. My erection felt as if it were going to explode in her hand and I let out a low groan.