Garage Sale

I heard the hesitation in her voice as she responded, carefully, so as not to sound desperate.

"Okay, we could do that next week," was her tremulous reply. "You live up north of me a couple of counties up, don't you?"

"Yeah, I was headed to WalMart when I stopped at your place," I replied easily, enjoying the moment.

"You know, I am coming through there tomorrow on my way to visit my younger daughter in St. Louis," she said, with hope seeping into her voice. "Maybe I could stop by your place and save you a trip next week."

She was offering to come to my house. I could throw her on the floor and rape her if I wanted. She would not resist, because I would still have the tapes. I could do whatever I wanted with her! But what I wanted most was for her to give herself to me the way she did her husband and his unnamed friend.

"Well, we could do that," I said pleasantly, explaining how to find my home on an isolated county road. She did not hesitate.

"Plan on me dropping by sometime tomorrow morning, then," she said, almost relieved. "I'll see you then."

I hung up the phone, thinking about how I wanted to manage the next day's activities. I wanted this woman in the worst way, but if I was careful I might get more than just a one night stand. I might gain her confidence, and surely she was at least somewhat horny after more than two months without her very active lover.

That night I watched the five copies I had made to make sure I had good copies, and went to bed exhausted after three orgasms.

The next morning Sarah pulled into my driveway in her conservative, five-year-old Ford Taurus. As she got out of the car and started up the walk toward my house I noticed she was dressed differently than the week before. She had on jeans and though not skin-tight, they were tight enough to show her shapely figure. She had on a long-sleeved sweater with a scoop neckline. It rode slightly off one shoulder revealing a bra strap. Best of all, however, was the clear evidence that it was a sheer bra, for both nipples were visibly erect under the light blue fabric. She had seen me looking at her boobs and was offering herself to me visibly in exchange for the possibility of avoiding extreme embarrassment.

I let her in and led her into the living room. She accepted my offer of some iced tea and sat politely on the couch looking around my living room as I fixed two glasses of tea.

"Is that your wife?" she asked, indicating the wall of pictures I had of Denise.

"Yes, that is my Denise," I said. "She died five years ago of breast cancer. We were married 30 years."

"Then you know what I am going through," she said, looking at me with a hint of pity and an obvious offer of friendship and empathy. I nodded and went to the den, bring out the box of tapes, setting them on the floor in front of her.

Denise would have kneeled down in the floor beside the box to go through it, but Sarah had already decided to give me a view, so she scooted forward on the couch, pulled the box to herself and leaned over, pulling tapes out. I had a clear view past the scoop neckline down the front of her sweater. She was wearing a sheer, undercup bra with a deep scoop itself, just barely covering the tops of her nipples and revealing a great deal of beautiful cleavage.

She slowly pulled all the tapes out of the box, stacking them in several different stacks. When she got to the five plain tapes all stacked together I saw her pause slightly and take a deep breath. She had no idea I had watched them.

"These were the ones I was looking for," she said, looking at me with slightly-pleading eyes. "I would be happy to pay you for them."

I reached out for the tapes casually and her hand trembled as she gave them to me.

"These don't even have titles," I said, trying to act surprised. "They look like they are home-made tapes."

I looked quickly up into her eyes and saw fear and hopelessness building in them before she lowered them to her hands, which were busy smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her jeans. I remained quiet, not willing to talk until she responded.

"They are," she finally said softly, and then looked up into my eyes, openly pleading me with her own soft, brown doe-eyes. I was falling in love. She may have read my thoughts for she looked back down at her hands.

"Are they of you?" I asked softly.

"Yes," she said, continuing to look at her hands.

"Just you?" I asked, deciding that if she was honest with me I would let her have the tapes; if not, I would send her away for the moment empty-handed.

She didn't speak or look up, but shook her head in a negative response. I sat back in my chair then, waiting for her to pick up the conversation. She finally looked back up at me, her eyes filled with despair and fear, but there was no evidence of accusation or anger – she had no idea I had already seen the tapes.

"There are a couple of me showing off, flashing, and things like that; Mardi Gras, Fantasy Fest, exhibitionism kind of stuff," she offered. I remained quiet.

"Then there are a couple of Leo and me making love," she said, pausing. "Then there is one of me and Richard making love."

"Who's Richard?" I asked.

"A friend of Leo's that he knew in the service," she replied, looking back up at me with some hope in her eyes. "When we were married I was just 20 and a virgin, and Leo was 32 and had been in the service. He liked to take nude pictures of me, but I was afraid to send in the film because I had heard stories of film developing people passing around sexy pictures that were sent in. Leo found out that Richard worked in photography and could develop the pictures for us. The only thing was, he would only do it if I would make love to him whenever he could make it around to visit us. So I did, because Leo wanted me to. The last few times Leo videotaped us together."

She paused then, looked questioningly into my eyes and then down at the tapes in my hand. I handed them to her and received a warm look of gratitude that thrilled me down to the very core.

"How often did Richard come around?" I asked, wanting the moment to last as long as possible.

"Only eight," she said quickly, and then blushed again as I smiled at the thought of her keeping count. She dropped her head and then looked back up smiling shyly, almost as if we were having a brother/sister conversation.

"It was one of Leo's fantasies to see me with another man," she said, almost sighing. "I tried my best to please him because he was so good to me. I think he and I were both thankful that Richard lived so far away and was not able to get down here that much."

"Leo was a lucky man," I mused, almost to myself, and then leaned forward and locked her eyes with mine.

"I know I told you that you wouldn't have to pay for those tapes," I said with a boldness I did not feel, "but at the time I didn't know what they contained. I want something in return for giving them back to you."

Uncertainty clouded her eyes before she looked back down at the tapes in her lap. She then just seemed to sigh slightly, her shoulders dropping a little, as she grasped the stack of tapes in her hands with both hands.

"I want you to spend the night with me tonight and pretend that I am Richard," I continued hastily before I lost my nerve. "You can call your daughter and tell her you will be delayed a day. When you leave in the morning you will never have to hear from me again."

She looked up at me, blushing again, but her eyes did not accuse, nor was there any anger; just a hint of wonder that I would want her, I think.

"I can't do that," she said after thinking about my proposition for a minute. "They already have dinner reservations and plans for taking the children to the zoo."

I sat back in my seat, watching her and waiting to see if she would continue. She did.

"But if you will trust me, I will stop back by here Friday on my way home," she finished, speaking so softly that I could hardly hear her. Then she looked up at me, trying to smile but finding it difficult, her eyes again pleading . . . begging me not to ask for the tapes back.

"If I have to wait I want the whole weekend," I answered bravely, my heart beating so fast I was afraid she could hear it.

This time the smile was genuine, sneaking out past her fear of the unknown, and I knew she was reading indecision in my gaze as well.

"You are very much like my husband," she said softly, looking away at the pictures of Denise on the wall.

"In what way?" I quickly asked.

She looked at me, wondering whether or not to respond, and then continued.

"Well, whenever he would start talking to me about something sexy he wanted me to do, he would get almost breathless and boyish, as if he was hoping he could keep me from saying 'No' by telling me what he wanted as quickly as possible. You just reminded me of him when you asked for the entire weekend."

She was still blushing, and looked down at her hands again before meeting my eyes again, her own friendly and resigned to the fact that I wanted her . . . and would get her.

I grinned then, not like an adult, but like a little boy that had just had his wishes granted, and I saw surprise and then humor in her eyes before I stood up and relieved her of talking about it anymore.

"I won't keep you any longer, then," I said. "What time should I expect you on Friday?"

"About dinner time?" she replied, the blush now gone from her cheeks as if we were just arranging a business appointment. "Maybe five or so?"

"That will work," I answered, my heart in my throat. "I'll fix up something here, and then we can go out to eat Saturday night."

She nodded her agreement and went to the door, stepping lightly through it as I opened it for her. She stopped then and turned back toward me lifting her lips quickly to mine in a quick, but quite warm, kiss.

"Thank you, and I'll see you Friday," she said before quickly turning and walking toward the car – but not before I saw the color returning to her face. As she drove out of the driveway into the county road in front of the house she waved slightly and I lifted my hand in acknowledgement. Then she was gone.

I watched my copies of the tapes several times the next couple of days, watching to see what seemed to turn her on, and how Leo brought her sexual pleasure. I knew she did not love me, and would not respond as she had to Leo, but I didn't want her to be uncomfortable either.

I also watched carefully what she did with Richard, so I would know what I might expect from her. She sucked, but she did not bring either man to a climax orally. There was no anal action whatsoever, either, even fingers. But she was hot!

Her innocence and total release to the men's bodies when they were with her filled me with intense desire as I watched her on the screen. I did not masturbate, however, for I wanted to save everything for the weekend. At the age of 55 I had lost a lot of my sexual stamina and knew three or four times in two days would probably be all I would be able to manage.

When the Taurus drove into my driveway precisely at five o'clock Friday evening I had pasta and seafood prepared with candles and a fancy table cloth on the table, set off by our best china and a bottle of wine.

I went out to meet her at the car and carried her bag in. She was wearing a camel-colored dress suit with a white silk blouse underneath the suit's coat, and a skirt that hit just above the knees.

She smiled as she saw the table prepared for a candlelight dinner and asked me to help her with her jacket. I was stunned as she shrugged out of it, realizing that she did not have a bra on under the thin blouse. Her nipples were large and erect, and clearly visible.

"I stopped at the convenience store up the road to use the restroom," she explained shyly as I looked from her breasts to her face. "And I thought that if we were going to do this, we should do it right. So, I took off my underwear before coming on to your house."

With the last statement my eyes dropped immediately to her skirt before returning to her face. She was smiling in a whimsical sort of way as she carefully raised her skirt with both hands revealing a tight-looking little pussy which certainly did not look like it had been used as much as it must have during her years with Leo. She had shaved recently, leaving a close-cropped, bikini-sized triangle of dark hair to offset the pale beauty of her skin.

She dropped her skirt then, and hooked her hand under my arm.

"Well, sir, I would like to be escorted to my table now," she said softly, "I am absolutely famished."

"So am I!" I blurted out, looking at her body once more, and eliciting a quick blush that covered every inch of flesh that was exposed.

"There's that little boy, again," I said, smiling sheepishly. "Come on, I hope you like seafood."

She nodded and accepted the chair I had pulled out. I don't remember much else about the dinner, although by the time it was completed we had eaten almost everything and had consumed the entire bottle of wine.

I led her into the living room and seated her on the couch before getting another bottle of wine and our glasses. I dimmed the lights as I came back into the room, and sat beside her, pouring our glasses full.

"I don't really know how to go about this," I confessed, trying not to devour her with my eyes – but probably failing. "I haven't socialized much since Denise died . . . in fact, I haven't socialized at all."

She leaned forward and picked up her glass, draining it to the last drop before putting it back down. Then she kissed me, warm and long, sliding her tongue between my lips briefly before pulling back from the embrace.

And then it was as if I was watching one of the 'Richard flicks,' as she stood, and undressed herself and then me. After she had teased me orally for a few minutes she leaned back on her heals and smiled.

"You're going to have to show me where the bedroom is," she said with a sly grin, "Or everything is going to happen here on the couch."

It was my turn to blush, realizing that she knew just how close I was to an orgasm. I took her hand and led her to the bedroom where she stretched out on the bed and accepted my body over – and into – her own.

When we were finished she excused herself to the bathroom for a few minutes of cleanup, but I noticed that she did not wash the musky smell of our sex from her body. "Thank you, Leo," I thought, "for teaching her what men like."

I wrapped my arm around one shoulder and she cuddled up to me, gently caressing my nipples and chest with one finger. I stroked her hair and caressed her face with the backs of my fingers, wishing she would touch my face and cover it with butterfly kisses the way Denise would do – but she didn't. I understood: this was not love, just sex, no matter how great it had felt.

"Was it okay?" she asked softly after a half hour or more of touching.

"It was awesome," I replied just as softly.

"Do you want more?"

"No, I am fulfilled," I said honestly.

She snuggled even closer, laying her head on my chest, and quickly fell asleep. I could not sleep, however, thinking about the way I had deceived her and knowing that I would never be able to get the love from her that I now craved.

The next morning I awoke to the smell of biscuits and gravy cooking, and found her totally naked in the kitchen washing the dishes from the night before. I grabbed a towel and dried as she washed, watching the graceful way her body moved as she worked.

After breakfast we had quick, passionate sex on the dining room table, and she looked me straight in the eye, smiling, as I came in her and quivered to a halt.

We spent the day walking on the property with me proudly showing her the improvements Denise and I had made together over the years. Maybe if she fell in love with the place she might fall in love with its owner, I thought.

I took her into town that afternoon to a little restaurant I sometimes visited when I was tired of eating my own cooking. She was wearing the same outfit as the night before – "I'm sorry," she had apologized, "but I hadn't planned on going out but once when I left home." I didn't mind, I knew what was under that jacket.

I told the waitress we wanted a quiet setting and she seated us at a back table in the candlelit overflow dining area. We were all by ourselves and Sarah smilingly opened her jacket, revealing those luscious breasts which I had repeatedly made love to the night before.

The waitress immediately noticed Sarah's revealed breast when she came to take the order and quickly looked at me, catching my smile and embarrassedly looking away for a second. When she arrived with our food, Sarah had unbuttoned her blouse and had to hurriedly slip her breasts back in before the waitress arrived at the table.

"Is there anything else you need before I leave you two alone," the young waitress asked, giving us a knowing smile.

"Not right now," I said casually. "But in five or ten minutes you could send us some more bread and wine," I said. Her brow furrowed slightly as I spoke, and then her eyes locked on mine with understanding.

"Okay," she said brightly, "enjoy your meal."

The food was delicious and we talked softly as we ate. I could not take my eyes off of her, moving from her warm eyes, to her open, innocent face to her beautiful breasts, resting gently on her chest just above the edge of the table. The nipples were soft and round, puffed slightly from the excitement of being so exposed.

About halfway through the meal a young man came into the room with a carafe of wine and a plate of bread. He was wearing a busboy's uniform, but I saw that he had tucked in his shirt and slipped on the little black tie that the waitresses wore.

He sat the wine and table carefully on the table before looking directly at Sarah's breasts. Following a pregnant pause, he wet his lips slightly and looked at me.

"Will there be anything else, Sir," he asked. I looked across at Sarah and saw that she was enjoying the situation almost as much as I.

"Do you want anything else, dear?" I asked.

"As a matter of fact, I would like a little more pepper on my pasta if I could," she said, smiling sweetly at the young man. He nodded and left the room for a minute before returning with a pepper crusher. He dusted her plate with pepper before stepping back slightly, his eyes never leaving her breasts.

"Thank you," she said, looking up and him and smiling. He nodded and walked out of the room. I saw the waitress just outside the door accept her tie back from the boy as he returned to his duties. She will get more than her obligatory 15% tonight, I vowed to myself.

That night we went directly to the bedroom for our sex and it was a delight, although I knew I was just an extension of Richard in her mind. She must have sensed my mood, for after we had both climaxed she raised herself on an elbow and looked into my eyes.

"Have I disappointed you?" she asked.

"Not at all!" I quickly responded, kissing her gently on the forehead and mouth before pulling her head back to my chest. "You were wonderful; there is not a man on this earth who would not feel fulfilled if they were in my place tonight."

She accepted my answer and slowly drifted off to sleep.

"I have just disappointed myself," I thought wryly as I stared at the ceiling and concentrated on the places where our bodies touched, enjoying the sensation of this last time together.

In the morning she fixed breakfast in the nude again, but I did not initiate sex. I saw the question in her eyes, as if she had done something wrong, and reassured her with my own that I was more than satisfied with our weekend.

We sat on the front porch in the porch swing, naked under the blanket that kept us warm, watching the birds at the feeder and feeling the brisk November air on our skin.