tagRomanceFull Circle

Full Circle


My heart ached as the casket lowered into the ground. Michelle and I had been married for 35 years, but now she was gone. The cancer had killed her amazingly fast; it was only a couple months from when she was first diagnosed until she died. She was only 56 years old.

I found myself thinking about how rich and wonderful it had been, being married to her, but then I remembered our vows – "Until death do us part" – and realized that our marriage was a chapter of my life now ended.


Michelle and I had five children together, all of them now grown – three girls and two boys. The five of them were a great source of comfort to me now, helping me to remember the good times, and the life we'd shared. Especially our middle daughter, who was virtually a clone of her mother, both physically and in her personality. I never lost my sense of wonder to look at our children and realize that they came from Michelle and me; that they were literally made of the two of us, of Michelle-stuff and me-stuff. Between the five of them, and the grandchildren that were starting to arrive, they helped make the days a little less lonely.

Sometimes during the nights, though, the loneliness, the sadness and the sense of loss could get pretty challenging. It seemed to help to think back on the life we'd shared together for 35 years, and the joy she'd brought to my life. Over the years, we'd really grown together, just like it was supposed to happen.

Especially in my bed at night, I could hardly help thinking of all the great sex we'd shared over the years; the warmth of her body nestled against mine, the firm fullness of her breasts, the way she would move against me when we made love, my erection happily buried inside her.

Our sex was always good, often very good, and sometimes incredible, bordering on transcendent. A few of our very best times together kept recurring to me, like the time, on one of our family vacations, when we went skinny-dipping and made love on the beach at midnight, after putting the kids to bed, the crashing waves providing the background music as we plunged together in our mutual ecstasy. When the Northern Lights appeared in the sky above us, the moment passed from 'wonderful' into 'transcendent'.

Then there was the time we took a 'getaway weekend' at a Bed-and-Breakfast up north, when we made love again and again, and it seemed like I stayed hard inside her for hours. I would come, filling her with my semen, and we would lie in bed caressing each other until I got hard again, without me ever pulling out of her. I've often wondered whether we were annoying the other guests.

Or our 25th anniversary, when we stayed in another cabin in the woods, and spent a week-long second honeymoon completely naked together, except for the few times we needed to leave the cabin for food, or rare sight-seeing excursions. Our mutual nakedness spurred us on, again and again, to new erotic heights, and we were making love three and four times every day, like we had on our original honeymoon, even though we were, by then, well into our 40s.

I thought of our honeymoon, when we had all the time in the world just to get to know each other, and have sex again and again. We'd go out sightseeing, and hurry back to our room to have sex; then go to a play, and go back to our room to have sex, then wake up in the middle of the might to have sex, and then have sex when we woke up in the morning. It had been a wonderful time, and we would often recall those days to inspire ourselves.

I thought of our wedding night, when we'd gone to bed and started making out, like we had hundreds of times before. Then Michelle had excused herself to 'go slip into something more comfortable'. I stripped myself naked and slid under the covers to wait for her return, and whatever erotic outfit she had in store for me. When she returned, she was wearing a tattered old sweatsuit. "This is the most comfortable thing I have," she'd said, leaving us both laughing hysterically, and confirming in my mind that I had married well. Then we fell upon each other and made deep, passionate love for the first time as husband and wife. And then again and again, all through the night.


I thought about the very first time we'd had sex together, one weekend in college when her dorm roommate had gone home for the weekend. I often hung out at her room, and when we were alone, we had a lot of fun making out together, and she'd let me grope her breasts.

With her roommate gone for the weekend, I don't think we were exactly thinking that we would have sex, but when the passion of our making out escalated, we didn't have the anxiety that we could be interrupted at any time, and so we just kept going. When she first gripped my erection through the front of my pants, it was about the most incredibly exciting thing I'd ever experienced.

Soon, I had her shirt off and was fumbling with the clasp of her bra. When I first laid eyes on her lovely breasts, after only ever having felt and caressed them through (or under) her clothes, it took my breath away. I couldn't help myself – I pulled her tightly to myself and began licking and suckling her firm, fleshy orbs, causing her to moan with rising arousal.

I pulled her on top of myself, and continued to suck on her breasts. When she felt my erection through both our pants, rubbing against her pubic mound, she began to grind herself against me, which only served to drive us both a little crazier.

Quickly, she hopped off me, unbuckled my belt, and peeled my jeans off me, leaving me in only my briefs, my erection sticking up like a tent-pole against the fabric of my briefs. A small wet circle spread out from the tip. At first, Michelle was shy about getting me naked, or even reaching inside my underwear. She simply gripped my cock through the fabric and held it, taking note of the size and shape of it.

Not wanting to be the only one naked, or nearly so, I reached over and unbuttoned her jeans, tugging on the waistband to pull it down over her hips. Impatiently, she stood up on the bed and wriggled out of them herself, leaving herself clad only in her cotton panties. Then she laid back down and joined me on the bed.

We hugged each other tightly. I felt her breasts pressing against my chest, her nipples digging into me. The sensation of her naked skin sliding against mine, was utterly intoxicating. I slid my hand inside the waist band of her panties, and softly caressed the cheeks of her ass. After a few minutes, I looked into her eyes; finding the permission I sought, I peeled her panties off her, leaving her completely naked, and open to my gaze.

Her pubic hair was thick and curly and dark. I reached down and began to stroke it, running my fingers through her rich, luxuriant bush. Finding the slit of her opening, I traced along it with my fingertip, noticing the puffiness of her vaginal lips. Tenderly, I pressed my fingertip inside her, while she groaned, and raised her hips up off the bed. I reveled in the smooth, moist warmth of her vagina, and I spent several minutes exploring inside her, while she squeezed on my fingers with her pelvic muscles.

Michelle had been happy to have me exploring her own most intimate parts, but eventually, she wanted to do some exploring of her own. She reached inside the waistband of my briefs, and gripped the shaft of my cock directly, before peeling my underwear off me entirely. She looked at my erect penis with something like a sense of awe. "It's wonderful," she breathed.

We flipped around so that our heads were aligned with each other's genitals, so we could explore each other at our leisure. I stroked all around her pubic hair, her labia, and inside her vagina, like it was my favorite toy on Christmas morning. Michelle was similarly occupied with my penis.

For a long time, she was happily content to simply stroke it and squeeze it, feeling the hardness, and yet the softness of it. She traced along the rim of my cockhead, and laughed as she squeezed the head. Seeing the precum oozing from the tip, she spread it all around on my cock, and delighted in the slipperiness of it.

When we had both explored each other to our heart's content, Michelle pulled me on top of herself. She spread her legs, opening herself to me. I looked questioningly into her eyes, and she nodded.

I probed forward with the head of my cock, feeling it nestle between her pussy lips. I continued slowly pressing into her until my entire cockhead was wrapped inside her, and then inch by inch, my whole shaft was inside her, and I was buried in her completely.

Slowly, we began to grind against each other, getting acclimated to the intense sensations of being joined to each other in the most intimate way possible. I felt the smooth wetness of her vagina wrapping my pulsing rod in its warmth. Soon, I was rolling my hips into her, driving myself as deep into her as I possibly could, and we settled into a sensuous rhythm as we rocked in intercourse.

Michelle began to sob as we mated. "Oh god, Greg – you're making love to me. You're inside me, and you're making love to me. Oh god, it feels so good. I want you, Greg; I want you forever!"

Her words were just overload for my brain. Not only were we having sex together, and not only was it mind-blowingly, earth-shatteringly incredible, but I could feel it binding Michelle and me together on some deep, sub-conscious level that I didn't understand, and my excitement was off the charts. If she wanted me, I wanted her at least as much; I wanted to give myself to her completely, and to know her completely.

"I love you," I gasped, and my orgasm overtook me. Streams and rivers of semen exploded from me, and surged into Michelle, filling her with my bodily essence.

She began thrusting herself furiously up at me. "Oh, baby, you're coming in me! Oh, yes! Come in me, fill me up!"

We laid together for a long time afterward, savoring the warm afterglow of making love to each other for the very first time. I knew I wanted to marry her. I just had to wait until the details fell into place. But I WAS going to marry her.

We made love occasionally after that, when the opportunities arose, like when one of our roommates left for the weekend. Then we would virtually spend the weekend in bed together, making love as often as we could, and learning all we could about sex, and about each other.

We were married shortly after I graduated, when I was 23 and she was 21. She had a year left before she graduated, so I took a short-term job nearby until she graduated.


When we were first married, Michelle didn't care much for oral sex. She didn't mind giving me an occasional blow-job, but she hated it if I came in her mouth. And somehow, the very idea of me going down on her gave her the willies. I tried to go down on her a few times 'in the excitement of the moment', but she would always push me away, firmly. I would occasionally press the question with her, but those conversations never went like I hoped they would, so I quit asking.

Somewhere around 10 or 12 years into our marriage, though, something changed in her. Just on a lark, one day, I brought up the topic of oral sex again. I told her that sometimes, when we were making love, I just wanted to kiss her pussy, and taste her 'down there'; I asked her if she would ever consider letting me do that. Unlike all the previous times I'd asked about it years before, that time, she got a curious look on her face and said, "You know, that sounds like it could be interesting. Maybe even fun."

I was stunned. Either she didn't remember all the times she'd pushed me away, or she did, and changed her mind. Not wanting to lose an opportunity, I asked her if she would like to try it right then. She smiled and said, "Sure!"

So we went to bed and got each other naked, kissing and stroking and caressing each other's bodies. After a while, I crawled down between her legs and started nuzzling and nibbling on the soft flesh on the insides of her thighs. As I moved slowly closer to her sex, she began to squirm and moan, as my kisses drew closer to her eager womanhood.

I began nuzzling all around her pubic area, inhaling the rich, musky scent of her arousal. I was beside myself with joy at finally experiencing my wife in this intimate way that I'd always wanted to.

I kissed her labia with my lips, and she groaned, pressing her groin against my face. I licked along the inside of her delicate folds, pressing my tongue ever-so-tentatively into her opening, savoring the sharp taste of her interior, while my nose rubbed against her clitoris.

By now, she had her legs draped over my shoulders, and was squeezing my head between her thighs, as she was approaching her first oral orgasm.

I moved my mouth up, and began tending to her clit, gently sucking on it like a peach, alternating with broad, ice-cream licks across it. And that drove Michelle over the edge – soon she was bucking wildly against my face, twitching and writhing in ecstasy, as her orgasm washed over her in wave after wave. I thought she would calm down in a minute or two, like she usually did when we made love, but she just kept coming, and coming, and coming. A few times, she seemed to be calming down, but I just kept at her, and soon, she'd be thrashing around in orgasm once again.

Finally, she pushed me away, which by then, I was almost glad of, because my jaw was starting to hurt. "Twelve," she panted.

I didn't understand. "Twelve?" I aksed.

"Orgasms. Twelve orgasms."

I smiled. "So you think you might want to try it again?"

"Ummmmm. . . yeah. I think I might."

And with that, she sat up, flipping me onto my back, and took my erection, which by that time was straining against its own skin, into her mouth. I watched in wonder as she savored the taste of my throbbing manhood. Precum was oozing copiously from the tip, but Michelle was undeterred. She swirled her tongue around my cockhead and bobbed her head up and down on my shaft, while caressing my balls with her free hand. Soon I was on the edge of my own orgasm.

I tapped her on the shoulder. "Um, honey," I said, "I think I'm gonna come."

She just looked back at me and winked. "Mmmm-hmmm," she hummed, without missing a stroke.

I thought, she let me eat her pussy, maybe she's had a change of heart about me coming in her mouth, too. So I rolled my head back, and gave myself to my orgasm.

Streams of semen shot out of me, and into Michelle's mouth. I was thrusting my hips, trying to bring the mind-blowing sensations to final completion, as climactic spasms continued to wrack my cock and balls, and send globs of semen into my wife's mouth, for several minutes. And Michelle never moved her mouth from my cock; she just kept stroking and squeezing it, trying to coax every last drop out of me.

Finally, I was done. As my limp cock slipped slowly out of her mouth, I propped myself up on my elbows, and looked down at Michelle. She was grinning at me, even as her mouth, and her face all around her mouth, were glistening with a sheen of my precious bodily fluids. Slowly, she opened her mouth, showing me the huge puddle of my cum sitting in her mouth, and on her tongue. Then, still grinning from ear to ear, she closed her mouth, and swallowed. I could only groan at the incredible eroticism that had suddenly, somehow, come over my wife. As soon as I could get hard again, we made urgent, furious, passionate love, like we never had before.

And ever since then, oral sex, in both directions, had been a staple of our lovemaking.


My memories of sex with Michelle gave me many hours of fond reminiscence. But there was one other woman who would occasionally come to my mind in those days of recollection following Michelle's death. That was Cindy – coincidentally enough, the only woman besides Michelle that I'd ever had sex with. We had given each other our virginities the summer after high school, having both turned 18 during the school year.

Cindy's family had moved to my town during our senior year of high school, and we just instantly hit it off with each other. Which was nice for her, being new in town; and nice for me, because the girls I'd grown up with had struggled, until then, to take notice of my desirability. Cindy and I became something like best friends, and, in the fullness of time, something more than that. By the time we graduated, we were happy to think of each other as boyfriend/girlfriend.

In the first lazy warm days of summer, we spent a lot of time together. Cindy had a job, but it was only a few hours each week, and I played baseball, which involved two or three games each week, so we still had quite a lot of free time.

One evening, Cindy came to one of my baseball games. I had a good game – I hit a home run, and my team won the game – and I was in a happily elated mood afterward. Cindy was grinning as we found each other after the game, and suggested that we go out for ice cream.

We were enjoying each other's company so much, that after we finished our ice cream, we just got in the car and drove, just so we could keep talking with each other. Eventually, we were so far out in the countryside, and the gas gage was getting low enough, that I just found a quiet place to park the car on a back-country road, so we could talk some more, without burning gas.

As we talked, Cindy slid over next to me, and I put my arm around her shoulder, hugging her tightly to myself as our conversation became more personal, revealing and intimate. Finally, during a lull in the conversation, I was just savoring being there with her, savoring the smell of her perfume and the soft texture of her hair, when she reached up with her hand, took hold of my hand, and cupped it over her breast.

I was stunned – Cindy, my girlfriend, the only girl who had ever taken any notice of me at all, had, of her own initiative, put my hand on her breast! My head spun as I gently stroked and squeezed it, for the first time in my life savoring the soft firmness of a real, live human female breast. Cindy turned her head toward me, raising her lips to invite my kiss, and I bent down to meet her lips with mine. I wasn't at all sure what I was supposed to do, but I was greatly enjoying the sweet taste of her lips against mine.

Then Cindy parted her lips ever-so-slightly, and I felt her tongue tracing along my lips. I had never experienced anything like that, and it was like a jolt of electricity shooting through my body. I parted my lips, and soon, our tongues were tangled together in a passionate embrace of their own, exploring the far corners of each other's mouths.

I turned toward her, so I could fondle her breast with my other hand, and she stroked and caressed my chest, back and shoulders. We continued making out like that for a long time, until Cindy finally sat up and broke our embrace.

"That was fun," she said, "but we really should get home before people start wondering what we're up to." I reluctantly agreed, and drove us back into town. I dropped her off at her parents' house, but before she got out of the car, we made out for a few more minutes. It had been the most exciting night of my life.

After that, we made out together whenever we could, often as not on a long drive off into the countryside, and Cindy would always let me feel her boobs.


One day, I was over at Cindy's house around lunch time, much earlier in the day than usual. Her parents were both gone to work, and we were just idly watching some useless drivel on the TV while I casually fondled her breast. Finally, Cindy grew impatient with the show we were watching. "This is stupid," she declared, and turned off the TV. Then she turned toward me, in the manner I'd come to recognize as her 'let's make out' posture.

Immediately, our lips met and parted, and our tongues intertwined as we had done all summer long. But this time, instead of the front seat of my parents' car, we were on the couch in the family room of Cindy's parents' house.

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