A Widow's Tale Pt. 01

[This -- as in all my work -- takes place in a world where the safe sex we need to practice nowadays isn't necessary. Please don't indulge in casual, unprotected sex -- as arousing as stories about it may be.]

I suppose I could be lazy and blame it on the virus and the subsequent lockdown, but the truth is, it was bound to happen anyway. At least now, after the fact, it's pretty obvious to me. But if you had asked me a year ago, I would have gotten offended and never spoken to you again. Life turns on a dime, I guess.

My name is Maria Salvez. I'm 39 and I've been a widow for almost 5 years now. I grew up in the New Jersey suburbs. Life in my hometown wasn't really all that spectacular. I went through high school with 3 other girls (well, they were girls when we started and I'll probably always think of them that way even if we are all approaching 40 now) who've remained best buds since then. Andrea Waters, Karen Demoans, Beverly Trichtel and I were the four queens. Not exactly divas, but girls who knew what they wanted and were secure enough to not be bothered by rules and strictures. We partied. We smoked and drank. By the time we were entering college we had all lost all our virginities, and we all had shared those events intimately with one another. If it was permissible, I'd love to share about things we did in high school that make most of what you read on Literotica look like soft porn. But I'll stick to the rules -- sex never happens before age 18. You can use your imagination, okay?

We all went off to college and yet managed to stay in touch. It helped that Andrea and Beverly went off to room together at school in Maryland, and Karen and I did the same at Rutgers in New Brunswick. We all were big fans of Skype, and decided we'd always do a weekly call together to check in and compare notes with one another. We kept it on Monday nights so we could rehash the weekends. We went through everything together (hookups, "after-action reports," breakups, getting back to dating, engagements, weddings, divorces, children and more) and they were incredibly wonderful with me when Johnny died.

Since I brought it up I better speak to it. I met Johnny Athers in my junior year of college at a party. I fucked the shit out of him that night -- along with an unknown number of other guys, I have to say. I was at that "if it has a dick and gets hard around me, it must mean I'm loved" phase. In other words, I slutted through my last two years of college and became the boy toy of frat row. There's probably a whole generation of guys out there teaching their kids about sex based on the wild woman they encountered in college. Good for them!

Anyway, Johnny was one of many guys that night. I'm not ashamed of it. But he stood out, for a couple of reasons. The first one was his dick -- I'm not kidding! It wasn't the biggest one that night (a couple of Black dudes shared that honor) but it was simply memorable. I can't quite figure out what to say. It was bigger than average but not a giant. It was thicker than most, but not a beer can. The head of it was amazingly well-formed, and it was red and contrasted with the shaft. He was the hardest dick I ever encountered -- I couldn't bend it away from his body with both hands! And he used it better than any other dude. I remember that very well -- I still get wet thinking of it. When he put it into my mouth, he didn't make me do all the work or try to force himself down my throat. No, he made love to my mouth! Seriously! I've had all kinds (and a lot of them) and his cock and his handling of his cock stood out. He used it to make love to my mouth. Unless you've had that happen, you really can't understand it.

And given the nature of the night, my mouth wasn't his only insertion point. When he got his turn at my cunt, it was as if his dick was driving electrical energy into me! Hard and aching and tender at the same time, he got me off at least three times before he finally came in the mix of other guys' come -- and he stayed hard enough to pull out and take my ass with that magic stick. I came twice from him fucking my ass. In other words, this man was magic. You bet I remembered him. There were a lot of other guys that night, but when it was all done I made a point of finding out who he was and how to get hold of him again. I had to find out of that magic stick came with a magic man or a dumb clod.

That night changed things for me. I lost interest in getting gang fucked by frat boys who were usually too drunk and too dumb to be able to say something intelligent; who thought calling me names and smacking parts of my body was somehow a turn on for me -- or who just didn't care if I got anything in the deal, as long as they could imagine themselves as pseudo porn starts, emulating whatever they'd recently jerked off to. I realized I let that happen. They were just being guys, sticking their dicks in any available hole -- but I was the one offering up all my holes. Oh, don't get me wrong -- I got off a lot during those gang bangs, but I also had more than a few thoughts of regret during and after. Because I just let myself become three holes to use, not a woman to be loved and adored.

When I got that -- when I saw that little miss party slut, gang bang gal was just some poor substitute for wanting to be loved, I spent almost a day hunched over the toilet, sick to my stomach over what I had become. I didn't regret the sex -- I enjoyed it. What I didn't enjoy, I basically tolerated if it didn't disgust me. Except now I WAS disgusted with what had motivated me. I felt like I was breaking apart as all that came crashing into my head. And my girls? God bless them, they took turns with me. They held my head (literally - Karen was there immediately, followed a few hours later when Andrea and Beverly arrived from Maryland). They listened to my retching and my wailing and they cried with me. And they celebrated with me when I had finally got it all out of my system and could stand on two feet again. Out of that, Andrea and Beverly re-evaluated the frat boy party culture and joined it! Karen, for her part, swore off men -- which, as it turns out, was easy enough for her since she'd been a closet lesbian for years. As for me, I got very single minded and set about finding that guy with the amazing cock.

It took a week or so. First, I had to deal with the guys at the frat house. When I walked in at least four of them simply unzipped their pants and pulled out their cocks -- as if I was just there for them. Not unexpected, of course, since prior to that I would have been on my knees in a flash and covered in come within minutes. It took some doing to let them know they no longer had me available. I suppose someone should write a book on the different behaviors of guys trying to get off with a woman -- but I'll leave that to any reader who has the time or energy. Eventually, things got put away and I was able to talk to them. Had to ask about six different guys -- the first three had been too drunk that night to remember anything; the next two vaguely recalled other guys in other holes but the last one knew who I meant. He gave me Johnny's name and number, and I was out of there.

Then it took another couple of days before I'd worked up the nerve to call him. I ran through scenario after scenario in my head. "Hi," I imagined saying, "we weren't introduced properly, but you fucked me silly at the frat house and we need to talk" probably wasn't going to go over well. Nor was "I'm the girl everyone was fucking on Saturday..." I ran through lots of different things, but wasn't just getting crazier and crazier. Then the phone rang. My phone. Caller unknown. I answered it any way.

"Hi, it's Maria."

Then came this masculine voice that reminded me of dark chocolate, rum and cigars: "Oh, thank goodness you said your name! I didn't know it and couldn't figure out how to ask for it and I've thought of nothing but you since we met..." Then there was silence.

"Do I know you?" I asked.

"I'd really like to hope so, but I was just one of the guys you, er, that were, I mean..." again, silence.

"I got it. You were one of the frat boys who fucked me silly this past Saturday. Is that what you were trying to say?"

"That's sort of it. I mean, you took on a lot of guys. And I was one of them. But I never thought of it as fucking. I was trying to make love to you in the midst of that. But I guess you couldn't tell..."

"You're Johnny! Johnny Athers!"

"Wait -- you know who I am? How? I don't understand! And it's pronounced 'at hers,' not 'ath hers. Sorry. That was silly, it's just my mind is blown that you know me!"

"Well, Johnny 'at hers,' I don't know exactly how many guys there were, but I do know that one of them stood out as different. You. I did know you were making love to me. To my mouth, my pussy and my ass! I wasn't just a set of wet holes to get off in -- it was special, evidently for both of us! I've been rehearsing how to call you an introduce myself and worried that all you remember is a come-covered slut who took on the frat."

"Well, I do remember watching you with a lot of other guys before I got my turn, and that was pretty hot. So, you really were a come-covered slut taking on the frat. But that isn't who I'm calling. I'm calling the woman with whom I had the most mind-blowing sex of my life. I'm calling the woman who somehow electrified my dick and did me the honor of coming on it multiple times. I know everyone thinks you are supposed to date and figure out if you're compatible and then jump through hoops in that weird ritual of gradually getting to sex -- but I think that great sex just might be a valid starting point for a relationship and I was hoping to convince you to give it a try with me."

I found myself weeping as I listened to him. I somehow managed to answer him even as I reached for tissues. "Johnny, I am crying as I talk, but don't take that the wrong way. It's not an upset cry. It's a tears of joy cry! We have a lot to talk about, and I think we definitely need to see if that magic sex was an accident of time and space or something we have between us and no others. When can we get together? Would now be too soon?"

In the ensuing silence from his end, I traveled all over my emotional landscape, from worrying I'd said too much to the land of he-can't-possibly-like-me, to the far reaches of if-he-says-no-I-may-just-kill-myself, back to God-I-hope-I-didn't-scare-him-away to please-please-please-say-yes. "If you don't say something soon, Johnny, I think I'm going to die!" I couldn't believe that came out of my mouth!

"Something soon, " came the voice on the other end. And then gales of laughter that swept me up into them. "I'm sorry, Maria. You blew my mind. Again. I literally couldn't think of what to say. It can't be now. I have responsibilities like a job and a class to teach and papers to grade -- things I've promised other people. And I can't even give you an estimate because, of late, too much shit happens and I can't seem to keep a time schedule for shit. I can't be sure of anything until at least Friday night. Will that work?"

"You may finally get me to utter that silly phrase." I said.

"What one is that?" He asked.

"Thank god it's Friday. I swore I'd never use it because I cherish every day, not just the end of the work week. But if that's when I get to meet you and talk with your and jump back into bed with you and only you, then I will compromise my made up values for that! Friday it is!"

That isn't where the call ended, by the way. We spent at least 45 minutes trying to describe to each other how our sex together was so blazingly different than anything before. And that turned into phone sex because we both got so horny as we recounted the sensations that it was inevitable. And truthfully, it was a whole lot of fun!

The next night (Friday minus 2) Bev, Karen and Andrea all got on the phone together. They were checking in on me -- my heroes! I thanked them again for standing by me. After that I shared the nonsense at the frat house trying to find out my magic man, I made sure I let them know I was no longer on slut patrol. And then I told them about the call with Johnny and things went a little crazy. At first I thought I had somehow screwed up and they were upset at hearing about it. But that got corrected quickly -- they each let me know they were just simply turned on and thrilled for me. I was describing something that, for each of them, was a fantasy they had been hoping would happen to them. They made me promise to tell them all about how my time with Johnny went down. In detail, of course.

I could barely get through until Friday. He had texted me an address and said "come sexy," so I spent hours trying to figure out what was sexy -- the kind of sexy that would be romantic -- and what was simply slutty. I mean, I was strongly contemplating no underwear, a wrap around dress that had a neckline that went down to about my navel (yes, I had one like that for those "desperate to get laid" nights) and only stayed in place because I used double sided tape. One that could come off easily and quickly because there was no question where the evening was winding up -- but I nixed that idea. I went with a new LBD (Little Black Dress, guys.) that cost way too much but was sexy as hell! It started about 3 inches below my crotch, hugged my body and had a scoop neckline that at first seemed modest -- until I bent over! I wore crotchless pantyhose -- my thigh high stocking showed too much top and even the clasps of any garter set -- a demi bra that was more a shelf to hold up my boobs and, of course, pearls. I had my hair up and when I walked into the French restaurant where we were meeting, I was delighted to hear the room quiet down -- I was a high wattage attraction.

And there, seated at the bar, was my date. My man with the holy, magical cock -- Johnny Athers. I recognized him, but got to see more details -- there was no crowd, and no sperm covering my face and blurring my vision. Oh, he was a handsome dude! He had to have been a few inches over six feet, had dark, wavy hair, a coffee colored skin and bright, piercing green eyes. We made eye contact immediately and he smiled, then stood as I came over and very slowly and deliberately his eyes took in every inch of my body from the top to the bottom, with careful attention to everything in between. If my dress had been any other color he probably would have seen my panties getting wet. I know he saw my nipples grow hard and long. I had no problem bending forward to give him (and anyone else who was looking) a great glimpse of the girls. By the time his eyes reached mine, I could see how his pants were obviously bulging -- we were electric!

Joining him at the bar, there was a moment of awkwardness as he wasn't sure how to greet me -- so I took the first move and flowed into his arms and raised my lips to be kissed. "Kiss me hard and deep, Johnny. Make everyone jealous!" And he did - one hand behind my head, and one trailing down my back onto my butt as our lips locked and as his cock pressed up against me and he flexed it I felt my pussy gush it's slippery juice. We held that for what seemed like an eternity and I was about to come when he released me -- and we heard all the comments from the room. Then he took my hand and we walked to our booth in the back. He seated me, and I made sure that he got another good, long look at my boobs, leaning forward to reveal them. I watched his crotch and, sure enough, there was movement!

"I am so tempted to simply get up and leave with you right now! I want you so badly I can't stand it!" he said.

"Patience, sir. While I have to confess that my pussy is actually dripping, wanting you to fill it, I think we ought to see how long we can resist. Be assured, we will get there, but in the meantime we probably ought to learn about each other. So let's start with some wine, then you are going to buy me a delightful meal, we will tease each other through dessert and then I will reward you with every inch of my body. Every part of it will be yours. How's that?"

"That sounds like a night in heaven to me."

I can't remember too many details from dinner, except to say it was a delightful blur. I let myself go, and decided that not only would I enjoy every bite, but that I would make sure he enjoyed watching my enjoyment. And he caught on quickly. I know that I was able to describe it all and recount our banter to the girls when we next met. I know the night in that restaurant was magical for us -- and yet the memories are somewhat faded and dulled because if I dwell on them I still miss him so terribly. Perhaps I can get Karen to write down what I told them and have her share it with you.

When that last bite of dessert was done and the bill was paid, we took a cab back to his place. And yes, I know that I always advise friends that that's not smart on a first date -- well, what did I have to worry about? I wasn't going to be raped -- we were going there for sex, to see if we could conjure up the magic we experienced together in the midst of my gang bang. In the cab (we both left our cars at the restaurant because we were too intoxicated to drive safely -- and promised them we'd be back for them in the morning) we began to make out. It was hard to restrain myself from pulling out his cock and going down on him, just as he later told me he struggled to maintain some minimal decorum when I spread my legs wide and grabbed his hand. Needless to say, that restraint served to ratchet up our mutual desires, so we were barely inside his front door before I was down on my knees, unzipping his pants and pulling out his nine-inch, cut cock. I think I purred as I unveiled it, the helmet a dark red, the length very inviting and the girth of it promised pleasure. But first, I wanted to thank him for dinner...

I love sucking cock. For lots of reasons -- from the experience of power I have gotten when I managed to get a response, to the taste, texture and heat, to the exercise of my talents. I couldn't naturally deep throat, so I trained myself using both my toys and the endless numbers in those frat houses since I knew that guys loved it. I knew that not every woman could do it, so I determined to stand out from the crowd and master the skillset. (And it is a skill -- sword swallowers make great teachers -- but that's a story for another story) I found that invariably, every guy always had a reaction when I managed to press my nose into his pubes as his tool lodged in my esophagus. The big ones were sometimes challenging, and some were just so enormous that I couldn't do it -- but even their owners were impressed by my determination and devotion. It was a skill I had worked hard to learn and now enjoyed using.

Johnny certainly enjoyed it! Before long his fingers were wrapped in my hair, seeming to guide my motions up and down on his big cock. I added a hand to the process, and as I stroked him, I pulled off enough to speak. "This time, I'm in charge. Let me do my things and I promise you that you will be a happy man. Right now I want to suck the cum out of this magnificent cock, and we'll get it hard again and put it to further use. In a bit. For now, let go and fill me with that hot sauce!" With that I inhaled, opened my mouth and my throat and began to stroke him from tip to base and back with nothing but my mouth. When he was all the way in, I swallowed and let that massage his rod. I found that I almost didn't care about breathing -- that electricity I had felt before was once again there -- it was as if his cock was hitting my clit through my throat!

At some point he unzipped his pants and stepped out of them, and we disposed of his boxers as well. (He eventually switched to briefs when he found out I liked them better) That let me take hold of his ass -- and it was right after that that I heard him give out an "oooohhhh" and felt him begin to twitch. I buried his dick down my throat and let him come, doing my best to swallow every drop, which was a real challenge since I was coming at the same time!