A Widow's Comfort

They say not to make any big decisions after you've been bereaved. It's stupid advice as we have nothing to do but make decisions: coffin, flowers and photos for the service. Where to hold the wake afterwards? What to do with his clothes, the things he loved, what to do with me? You've had time to discuss what might happen if you're older. Maybe not; perhaps the longer it is, the more difficult it becomes to talk about.

Chris and I hadn't had that long at all. We'd only been married two years, together for four, but we've been so happy. I loved him so much; I still do and always will. Twenty-eight-year-old widows are an oddity. There's a young widow's club, but they class forty-five as young there. I'm an oddity because this isn't supposed to happen.

Six months after losing Chris in a motorway accident, I thought I'd moved on in some small ways. I walked around the house looking at photos of us and didn't cry every time. Sometimes I smiled, briefly happy that I'd had our love before the unending sadness overwhelmed me at what I'd lost.

His wardrobe was mostly cleared out. I'd kept some things: his best suit, a favourite shirt, a cuddly jumper, a leather jacket and, of course, his favourite cologne. I would have to buy a new one soon; it was almost empty. I couldn't lose that too. I sprayed it on his pillow every night, so I could lay in bed, close my eyes and pretend he was still beside me. I missed him just being there, I missed him in countless ways, but in the past few weeks, I realised I missed him in new ways, too.

I could hug that pillow that smelled of him as much as I wanted to, but it would never hug me back. It was never going to kiss, caress, and make love to me. Suddenly I was horny, so horny that I was surprised it took so long. Chris and I were both highly sexed. I suppose we never really had a chance to leave that honeymoon phase. It was more than that, though; we just needed to be together in that way - a lot.

Chris was an excellent lover, and I was a very satisfied wife. Six months and two days since I'd last made love to him. Six months and two days since I'd had any affection or male attention. Let's not beat around the bush; six months and two days since I'd been given a good seeing to, as Chris would have said.

The problem was that I had this physical need that was suddenly overpowering. I didn't want to have a relationship; I didn't want to date. It was too soon; I wasn't ready, I might never be prepared.

So, I carried on and tried to keep busy. It was the lawn mower that tipped me over the edge. That had been Chris's domain. He'd had to have the big noisy lawn mower a little too big for our garden: boys and their toys. Bless him. I couldn't get it to work correctly and then it stopped completely when I was halfway through. It was too much for me. All my frustration came out because of that stupid mower. I cried, screamed, and ended up sitting on the half-cut lawn. Eyes tight shut, sobbing like a baby. It was then that I felt arms around me. Strong arms were holding me tight, rocking me, soothing me. A deep voice told me it would be all right, that I would be all right.

I opened my eyes to see Mal, my neighbour. He smiled at me, picked me up, and carried me into the house, although I was as light as a feather. That's no mean feat, as I'm a curvy girl. Not fat, as Chris used to say, but a real woman with big breasts and a generous bum.

It was also no mean feat as my neighbour Mal is 67. I hope I hadn't damaged him. He deposited me gently on the nearest counter stool and went to put the kettle on.

"Tea. I'll make us a nice cup of tea. The British cure at all times of stress," he smiled.

"Sod that," I muttered. "There's wine in the fridge. Get it open now."

I managed to calm myself down and breathe as he poured us two huge glasses of wine. I looked properly at Mal. I know he'd been retired for a couple of years. I knew he'd lost his wife, Sherry, just before we moved in. Sadly, newly retired together, she'd got an infection and died within days. He had shown me a photo once; she was a stunning redhead who looked about 50, certainly not 65.

I remembered what Mal had said as he took the picture back, "She was always at the gym, so fit and then went so quick -- pneumonia."

I remember the sad look on his face. Only now I knew how he felt.

"It's rubbish, isn't it, this grieving business?" said Mal gently.

"Times a great healer? Balls to that," he said as he handed me my wine.

Mal was a big guy, tall with a shock of curly white hair. He was still trim and fit but very definitely a man in his sixties.

"So what stage are you at them, petal? Denial, anger, depression? You're too early for acceptance, my love. Hell, it's been three years for me, and I don't think I'll ever accept that I get to be here and my Sherry doesn't."

With that, I watched as a tear ran down his cheek.

"Sorry, love," he grunted, "I'm meant to be helping you, not wallowing."

"It does help," I smiled. "It helps a lot talking to someone who understands."

"I do understand, but it's different for you. You lost Chris too early, too soon. I had my Sherry for 38 years, we'd watched our child grow, but it was still too soon. It's always too soon, believe me."

With that, he held my hand. I noticed his muscular, tanned forearms.

"You're grieving for what you might have had, too. At least I'm not grieving for what might have been."

I must have drunk my wine too quickly as I suddenly blurted out, "There's another stage of grief. I appear to be suffering from. That no one ever mentions."

Mal smiled at me knowingly, "It's not the horny stage, is it?"

I looked at him, shocked and embarrassed.

"You've got to that stage quick, but then you're only young. It took me about a year, but then I'm older. Of course, you and Chris were always very active in that way."

"How did you know?"

"You were also very vocal, my love. I might be an old geezer, but there's nothing wrong with my hearing. I was only on the other side of the wall. I lay there many nights listening to some of your and Chris' finest work. No wonder you miss it. That boy was a sexual dynamo."

I should have been horrified, but I just laughed, warmed by the wine and happy memories.

"I miss Chris in every way, but suddenly, I miss him that way too. Not just the sex; I miss the intimacy. I miss having him in my bed. I miss the hugs. I miss them most of all. When you hugged me before, it was the first time I felt a man's arms around me for months."

"Well, if you ever need a hug, you know where I am. Anyway, I better go and finish your lawn with my mower. Will you be all right if I go?"

As he said this. I couldn't help looking down and noticing that his shorts had tented rather impressively. All this talk of sex had turned Mal on as much as me. I quickly glanced away and asked Mal if I could have a hug goodbye. He leaned forward and held me tight, but I noticed he angled his lower body away from me. He left quickly, but I thought about what he'd said, what he'd heard.

I watched Mal as he finished my lawn. He was handsome and strong. Maybe Mal was just what I needed. Someone to hold me, someone I could trust, to be with. I couldn't have a romantic relationship with him. The age gap was too big. He was old enough to be my grandfather. Maybe I was just what he needed, too, a bit of affection, company, and sex. No strings attached, a friend-with-benefits arrangement. That couldn't hurt, could it? I did admit that I found him attractive, too. He was still a very good-looking man. I bet he'd been stunning in his younger days.

Living next door, being in such proximity, literally on his doorstep, was a worry. If it all became too much, I'd move. I may have to do that eventually to escape some of the memories. To allow me to move on a little, finally. Perhaps, this would be my first step. One thing I was sure of was that Chris would tell me to go for it. He knew that Mal would be no threat to the memories of him, and he'd want me to be fulfilled and satisfied. I wondered if Mal could satisfy me. He certainly had no trouble getting hard. I just needed to be held. I needed someone in my bed. I needed Mal. I thought about how I would go about this.

In the end, I decided on the direct route. Later that night, at 9:00 PM, I rang Mal. "Mal, are you busy? I need your help with something."

He said he'd be right over and was at the door within minutes, "Is everything OK, love?"

"No, not really. I need one of those cuddles."

He smiled at me and opened his arms to embrace me.

"No, not here," I stammered, "I need those cuddles to be upstairs, upstairs in bed. I need there to be less clothes. I need you."

"Bloody hell, Ellie, are you sure? I'm old enough to be your dad."

"Actually, my dad is 49. You're old enough to be his dad."

"Exactly. What on Earth would you want me for? Once we cross this line, there's no going back. Things won't ever be the same."

"I'm fed up with the same," I shouted, "The same is killing me."

I took his hand and quietly continued, "I'm under no illusions. I know this is mad; I know you're old, but I think you're attractive. I'm not asking to marry you. I'm not asking for a relationship; I'm not ready for that. I'm asking you to have sex with me. I'm asking you to be my friend. My friend with benefits. Not forever, just for a little while. I'm asking you to make me feel like a woman again."

"Well then," he said as I pulled him towards the bedroom, "In that case, it will be a pleasure."

A pleasure. It certainly was.

By the time I had laid back on the bed. Mal had already stripped off his shirt to remove his shorts. He still had a good body, a little paunch, but being tall, long, well-shaped legs. He had very sexy legs. Unlike the hair on his head, his body hair was still dark; rising from a nest of dark hair was a thick cock. It was a cock any young man would have been proud to possess. I wanted it to be mine. I wanted to possess it. He kissed me for the first time. His strong arms were around me as he kissed me. His fingers sought out my wetness as I responded.

"You do want me, don't you?" he said as he licked my nectar from his fingers.

"Delicious," he murmured as he gently pushed me back and started to taste the source of my wetness.

It felt amazing to be wanted again, to be desired. He murmured as he licked and sucked and probed at me with his tongue. I opened myself up to him as he stroked my inner thighs. His tongue was terrific; I could feel my orgasm building as he brought his fingers into the equation. He ploughed his fingers into me, sawing them in and out as he licked my clit. I came hard then, clasping my legs around his head as I pulled at his thick white curls.

Spent, I pushed him on his back and took him inside my mouth for the first time, holding his balls gently as I sucked him in.

"That feels amazing," he growled.

I concentrated on licking and tasting his head as I stroked him. As I did this, he reached around and again started to finger me. I whimpered as he began to thrust into my mouth gently.

"Stop. I need you inside me now," I cried.

I turned on all fours as he put his hardness inside me. It had been so long since I felt a man inside me, so long since I had felt this good. I thought about Chris; part of me wanted to pretend it was him. Then Mal reached his hand around to gently massage my clit. At that point, I was in no doubt who was making me cum again, this handsome man. I wanted to see him. I wanted him to see me. I pulled away and told him to lie down. I lowered myself onto him, playing with my nipples as I rode him. My tits bounced as I rode him harder and harder as I came again and collapsed onto his chest. He came with a roar. I didn't know that a man could orgasm so loudly.

Mal said, "Sorry about that. It's been a while."

"It was amazing. Thank you," I said as I kissed him on the cheek; we lay there for a while, just holding each other.

"I have to go soon. Can't have the neighbours talking. Will you be okay if I leave?"

"0h yes, I'll sleep well tonight. Any chance of a repeat performance before you leave?"

"I wish one of the disadvantages of age is that I'm a once-a-day man nowadays, as much as it disappoints me. It doesn't help that our talk earlier had me hard most of the day."

"I'm glad I have that effect," I smiled.

"So, was this a one-off?" I asked, not looking at him.

"I'm here if you need me. I hope I gave you a good time. I've never had any complaints, but I'm an old man now. You're used to being with a young stud."

"No complaints; you were wonderful. I want to do this again as long as we're clear that this is just for now until we are ready to move on and meet somebody else."

We did repeat it many times over the next few months. Luckily, we could keep it secret from the neighbours. We weren't overlooked at the back, so he removed a fence panel. We didn't always have sex; we were company for each other. We talked about Chris and Sherry, and we laughed together. Sometimes he stayed the night and we just held each other.

Of course, we often had sex, too. Although we always enjoyed it and felt satisfied, we would both admit it was never as good as that first time. I think we enjoyed the foreplay more. We both loved oral, and Mal couldn't get enough of that. He also did this thing, something that Chris had never done. I wouldn't even know what to call it, so we just called it "The Thing."

Sometimes he made me beg for "The Thing." He used both hands to finger me. One coming from underneath and one coming from the top. One was supplying fingers inside my pussy and the other was massaging and teasing my clit. He latched on to me all the time, suckling at my breasts, It used to drive me mad, and I used to scream when I came. Mal was very proud of himself.

"Not bad for a pensioner," he laughed, licking his fingers with a happy grin.

Eventually, I knew that whatever this was, it was coming to an end. It was fizzling out. So, it came as no surprise when Mal told me that although he would always be my friend and ready with a hug, the sexual aspect of our relationship was coming to an end. He'd bumped into the widow of an old colleague, Marian, and he needed to be free to pursue her. Of course, I gave him my blessing on the condition that I could experience "The Thing" one final time.

I was surprised in one way that Mal was so upfront with Marian about the nature of our friendship. In another way, it didn't surprise me. Mal was a good guy; one of the things I admired about him was his integrity. He refused to start off what he knew could be an important relationship with any secrets.

They had been seeing each other for a couple of months before Marian, and I were introduced. The first time Marian and I did meet, it was rather awkward. She was wary of me, but we laughed after a few glasses of wine.

Marian looked at me and said, "I'm sorry I was struggling to get my head around this. I just felt threatened. You're young and gorgeous and I'm 62. How could I possibly compete? Now, I see there's no competition. There was no way that anything could happen between you two in the long term. Wherever this was between you is over. I can see that."

"It's you he loves Marian, certainly not me."

" I know he loves me," she smiled, "I know he finds me attractive. I know he wants to be with me."

"Why wouldn't he? You're gorgeous."

"Yes, he seems to make a habit of punching above his weight, doesn't he?"

We collapsed in giggles at this point.

"I suppose I should say thank you," said Marian. "Without you, he wouldn't have moved on. I can't bear to think I'm missing out on being with him. I realise he only comforted you, but did he have to do it with his cock?"

After that, we collapsed into giggles again and were all the best of pals.

Soon they were planning their wedding. They felt that life was too short to wait. We all understood that sentiment more than most.

At the wedding, I met Mal's son, Jake, for the first time. He'd returned from Australia after a bad break-up with his girlfriend. He also seemed to have lost all his friendship circle in the breakup. Mal was hopeful that Jake would stay in this country. He had even lined up some job opportunities through some old pals, hoping that might encourage him to stay.

Jake looked just like the photos I'd seen of Mal when he was younger. He was gorgeous, tall with long, dark curly hair and the same cheeky smile and twinkle in his eye that his dad possessed. During the wedding, I noticed him watching me; it gave me a lovely warm feeling, but it also made me slightly uncomfortable. I felt an overwhelming attraction to him. I think I was finally ready to start dating again. Typical, I'd finally found someone to catch my eye, and he was the one man I couldn't pursue. I was surprised at how sad I felt until Jake asked me to dance. He held me in his arms and he never really let go again.

So, that was how I met my second husband and the father of my children. When Mal and Marian returned from their honeymoon, they were shocked to find that Jake was gone. He'd left them a note telling them he'd moved in next door with me. Jake met his Dad in the garden. He left the back door open and told me I needed to listen to their discussion and know what was said.

"Are you happy, son?" said Mal.

"Very happy, Dad. I finally found the one. I know it's happened quickly. But I can't imagine life without her."

"Look, Jake, if you're serious, there's something I have to tell you."

"About you and her? I know, Dad. Ellie told me all about it."

"I'm so sorry, son."

"Why? It was before I met her. I'll be honest when she told me it knocked me for six; I felt a little disgusted at first. Don't worry; I don't feel like that now. I took time to think about it, and I don't blame you. You were both hurting and you both helped each other. It was a brief period in the past, and now it's over. It is over, isn't it?" he looked at his Dad intently.

"Yes, of course, ever since I asked Marian out. I'd never do that to her. I was a faithful husband to your mum and I will be to her."

"Well then, that's OK."

"It really doesn't bother you, son?"

"If it means I get to be with Ellie, then no, it doesn't. Do you want it to?"

"No, I just don't want you to be hurt. I don't want Ellie to be hurt either."

"Good, I don't want this to be awkward for any of us. Let's leave it where it belongs, in the past. Her past partners are nothing to do with me any more than my past is anything to do with her. Why should this be any different, just because it's you?"

He looked serious for a second, "However, I don't want you to treat Ellie differently on my account. She's your friend. Just treat her like you would any daughter-in-law. No more, no less."

"Daughter-in-law? That serious, then?"

"Yes, Dad, that serious. She's the one. Just think, with some luck, your grandchildren will be growing up just over your fence. Dad, you made her happy once. Now, it's my turn, but don't be offended if I make her happier than you ever could."

"I wouldn't doubt it for a second, son," Mal beamed proudly.

It takes an extraordinary man to be the second husband of a widow, strong enough to live with the memory of a lost husband, who will never grow old. It takes someone even stronger to be the husband of someone once intimate with his father. That's how special my husband is.

Marian once asked me if I loved Jake more than Chris; I answered honestly,

"I don't love him more than Chris, but I certainly don't love him any less. Some women never find their soul mate. How lucky am I? I've had two."