Mature Man & Maiden Maureen Ch. 11

She laughed.

"I love coffee, strong and black is how I take it. I can't get through my day without two cups of black coffee," she said.

We went inside the house and I made her comfortable in the guest bedroom, which was the bedroom at the end of the hall. She insisted that she stay in the same room that her sister had, before Maureen and I started sleeping together in our threesome arrangement with Colleen. Not having to share a bathroom, having her own, it was as if she had her own suite. The arrangement afforded her a level of privacy, if she so wanted it.

At that point, after meeting her, reliving Maureen with her resemblance to her sister, hearing her voice, and watching her familiar mannerisms, everything about her reminding me of her sister. I'd accommodate her in any way that would make her stay longer. Already saddened about her leaving, I never wanted her to go.

I wanted her to stay longer than the weekend that she had planned. I wanted her to stay with me forever. Selfish of me, I wanted her to replace her sister. As long as she stayed with me, I wouldn't hurt as badly as I hurt now.

# # #

Suddenly, the thought of Gwen in my life, instead of Maureen, was perversely perverted and so offensive to me that I almost vomited. Surely, I knew that even though they looked so much alike, they were two individual people with different feelings, wants, and needs. Still, I was giddy with happiness that she was here with me in my house and in my little world, which suddenly expanded greatly, again, with the hope of a new life with Gwen.

Her visit was uplifting. I was happy that she was here. When I first saw her, and how much she looked like Maureen, I expected to be miserably depressed. My first thought was that I wanted to send her away. I was glad that I didn't.

Instead, once I accepted how much she looked like Maureen, it was just the opposite. In a weird way, with not having a chance to say good-bye to Maureen, her visit was cathartic. She enabled me to, somehow, get the closure that I needed to deal with the sudden and tragic death of Maureen through her sister.

In a morbidly perverse sense, this was my way of talking to the dead through the living and it was a way for me to discover things that I didn't know, and that didn't have a chance to know about Maureen. I found that learning more about Maureen growing up as a child from her sister was so very healing and comforting. If nothing else, she took my mind off my mourning. The mere activity of talking to her kept my mind busy and my spirits lifted.

I helped her with her things, moving what she needed, and helping her to arrange the empty closet. No one had been here since Colleen moved out some months ago. I wasn't only excited about having a roommate again, albeit a temporary roommate, but the fact that she looked so much like Maureen lifted my spirits from the depressed state that I had been in lately. If nothing else, she was a diversion and someone to talk to for a few days.

I had been feeling so lonely and Gwen helped me through my loneliness. Only, I had to make a conscious effort not to stare at her and not to call her Maureen. She was just so damn beautiful and looked so much like her sister, that I was instantly attracted to her. How could I not be? Any man would be sexually attracted to this beautiful, sexy, and shapely, twenty-three-year-old woman.

"I'm glad that you drink coffee," I said. "I can't function without having two, big mugs of strong, black coffee in the morning."

She laughed.

"Other than sex," she said giving me a sexy look and a naughty smile. "Coffee is my only addiction," she said.

'Sex,' I thought. 'Gwen is addicted to sex.'

She surprised me when she said that sex was her addiction, and gave me a sexy smile and a naughty look. Then, I remembered Maureen saying that her sister was a whore. Hoping beyond hope, I wondered if she'd have sex with me. There would be no better way to get over Maureen than to have sex with her sister.

# # #

"Great." I'll put on a fresh pot. "Maureen and I..."

I paused not knowing if I should proceed to talk about Maureen to her.

"Please, I want you to talk about my sister. That's why I'm here," she said.

When she suddenly looked very sad, I felt her pain, and gave her a hug. Hugging her felt as if I was hugging Maureen. Suffice to write, I loved hugging Gwen while pressing her enormous breasts against my muscular chest.

"Maybe, somehow, my visit can help us both heal," she said.

She looked at me with her big, blue, beautiful eyes that melted my soul and hardened my cock.

"Okay," I said while not knowing where to begin.

Taking the lead, Gwen talked about her sister.

"Maureen moved out of the house, while I was still in high school, and then I went off to college. So, I haven't spent as much time as I would have like to with my big sister. I was hoping that you could help me by telling me more about her, the things that I didn't know about her," said Gwen.

I nodded my head. Only, I wished that Colleen was here to act as a buffer. Not that I was a rapist or a sexual abuser but I didn't trust myself to be alone with Gwen. With me missing Maureen too much and Gwen a dead ringer for her, there's no telling what would happen when we're alone after splitting a bottle of wine.

# # #

"In that regard, we have that in common. I was hoping that you could tell me more about Maureen as a child, and what it was like growing up with her."

We smiled at one another and I felt that I should continue the conversation, telling her about the Maureen that I knew.

"It's a deal," she said. "You tell me how Maureen lived her life with you and I'll tell you about how she grew up as a child."

I laughed silently to myself while thinking of Maureen having lesbian sex with Colleen.

"We always had coffee this time of the late morning or early afternoon," I said volunteering what information that came to mind. "Then, we'd take our cups to the back screened-in porch where we sat and talked about everything and laughed over nothing, while watching the dogs play."

"I'll tell you what," she said. "Show me the kitchen and I'll make us a pot of coffee."

She was just like her sister, taking charge of things.

The dogs abandoned me to follow her and I could not blame them. Who said dogs are dumb? I'd follow her, someone who looked as good as Maureen, to the end of the earth.

I put some biscuits on a plate for us to have with our coffee. As soon as the coffee brewed, we took our cups out back. She even took her coffee the same as did Maureen, black with no sugar.

At times, it was difficult to talk to her without staring, without swooning, and without wanting to lean over to kiss her. Although, I had never seen a photo of her, certainly, I felt as if I already knew her from what Maureen had told me about her kid sister. Whenever she looked away, I studied her face looking for the smallest imperfection in her to make me realize that she wasn't Maureen. Physically, she was an identical, genetic copy.

Perversely perverted, I listened intently as she talked to me wondering, while what she looked like in her bra and panties. I wondered what she looked like topless. I wondered what she looked like naked.

Grieving over Maureen, while sitting here with a carbon copy of her, how could I not wonder what she looked like without her clothes? I wondered if her tits were the same with the same, big, pink nipples that Maureen had. I wondered if she was shaved, trimmed, or bushy.

With her already confessing that she was addicted to sex, I wondered if her pussy tasted the same. I wondered what she was like in bed. I wondered if she talked dirty and if she screamed when she had a sexual orgasm.

I couldn't believe that I was already undressing this nice, young lady with my eyes. I couldn't believe that I was such a degenerate. Yet, I missed Maureen so very much and here was her sister looking so much like my lost love, I couldn't help but imagine Gwen in all sorts of sexual and depraved positions. I had to force myself to think of something else, anything else to say to take my mind of sex.

# # #

"Do you like baseball," I asked?

She laughed.

"Yeah, my whole family follows the games," she said.

I returned her laugh with my laugh.

"How 'bout those Red Sox? I can't believe they won another World Series. Do you think they'll become a baseball dynasty like the Yankees used to be?"

She made a face while shaking her head.

"I hope not. I'm a Yankees fan," she said with another laugh.

I gave her a smug smile.

"Yeah, that's right. You guys are from New York. I forgot," I said.

# # #

She helped me with dinner, tuna steaks with brown rice and peas. Even though I opened a bottle of wine and offered her some, I decided to forgo the wine. Since Maureen died, I've numbed enough of my days with alcohol. Besides, just in case she wanted sex, I wanted to be ready.

"This is the perfect wine with fish," I said. "I apologize for not joining you in a drink but I've had more than my share of wine over the past few months."

She nodded her understanding.

"Oh, that's okay, I understand. I found myself drinking more than usual and had to make a conscious effort not to drink," she said pausing to take a sip of her wine.

She paused again, perhaps, while reflecting on what she was about to say.

"Unfortunately, my mother has been drinking more than she ever did in the past. Maureen's death hit her the hardest. She's changed. Morally modest before, now she seldom gets dressed. She walks around the house wearing her short, sheer, sexy, low-cut nightgowns no matter who is in the house."

I suddenly wondered what her mother looked like. I wondered if she looked like Maureen and like Gwen. Then, I wondered what she looked like in her short, sheer, sexy, and low-cut nightgown. I wondered if she had Maureen's and Gwen's sexy and shapely body and their huge breasts.

# # #

"I hope that I can still meet your parents, one day," I said while letting her know that I wasn't angry for not inviting me to Maureen's funeral.

Gwen made a face.

"My father, in his convoluted logic, blames you for Maureen's death."

I looked at her with hurt.

"He does? How? Why," I asked?

I was stunned by this sudden revelation that their father blamed me for Maureen's death. Even though Colleen had touched upon her family somehow blaming me for Maureen's death, it still hurt for Gwen to say that.

"He said had Maureen not moved to Massachusetts from upstate New York, she would have not have been hit by a drunk driver." She looked at my pained expression. "She could have died anywhere, anytime. Obviously, it was her time to go," said Gwen showing her maturity beyond her 23-years of age.

I shrugged my confusion.

"Actually, Maureen hadn't even met me when she moved to Massachusetts," I said.

Gwen nodded her head in agreement.

"I told you my father's reason for not liking you was convoluted," she said.

I leaned forward in my chair.

"I understand your father not wanting to like me. We're nearly the same age, after all. And if it makes him feel better in his grief to blame someone for the loss of his daughter, than I can shoulder that burden," I said with a sad smile, while nodding my head.

Gwen reached out and squeezed my hand.

"You're a good man, Mark," she said consuming her first glass and allowing me to pour her a second. "I can see why my sister fell in love with you."

# # #

She stood, kicked out her chair, and leaned over the dining room table. When I stood to meet her, she gave me a great down blouse view of her low-cut, sexy bra and her long line of ample cleavage. Surprising me, she gave me a kiss on the cheek and a hug. Then, when she pulled her chair back to the table and moved to sit, with a quick flash, her white panties peeked out their hello with a triangular, over her thighs patch of bright white, as she sat in her chair.

Maybe, it was the hot coffee that I was drinking, but suddenly I was feeling warm, hot actually, after having a down blouse view of Gwen's low-cut bra and an up skirt view of her white panties. Again, unable to help myself, lonely and sad, I wondered what Gwen looked like naked. I wondered if she looked like her mother or her father.

I imagined that if she looked like her mother that I'd be attracted to her mother, too. I laughed to myself. Who's next? Am I going to want to fuck her mother, too, if I had the chance to meet her and, maybe even her grandmother, if I was ever to meet her?

"The wine is very good," she said. "It goes down too easy and doesn't burn at all like most of the wine that I drank too much of in college."

I gave her a warm smile.

"Ah, I see you've grown accustom to wine of questionable vintages," I said laughing. "I assure you that you'll find no Boones Farm Apple wine in this house, only French, Italian, and a few bottles of Californian."

She laughed.

"Yeah, well, when you're in college, you buy what you can afford, and I could only afford the wine with the screw top bottles," she said with a laugh.

As if we had known one another for years, talking to her was so easy. I wondered how much of a party girl she was. I suddenly envisioned her drunk at a dorm or a frat party. I suddenly pictured her wearing a barely there bikini at spring break and exposing her huge tits to everyone. It surprised even me, when I said what I was thinking.

"So, are you one of those naughty and fun loving girls that they show on Spring break doing the wet T-shirt contest or the bikini contest," I asked with a laugh?"

She returned my laugh with her laugh.

"Oh, yeah, I did all of that and more. Trust me, I was wicked naughty," she said with a dirty laugh. "I must admit though that I look fabulous in a bikini, that is, when I wasn't walking around topless," she said striking a pose that made her tits look even bigger. "It was fun. Only, much like Lindsay Lohan, unfortunately, something that gets me in sexual trouble, I can't hold my alcohol," she admitted.

'She can't hold her alcohol,' I thought? 'Well, that's certainly good to know.'

"In that case, drink up," I said laughing. "Have more wine. I'll open another bottle," I said laughing.

I suddenly thought about her walking around my living room in just her bikini panties and nothing else.

"Trust me, Mark. You don't have to get me drunk to take sexual advantage of me," she said.

She gave me another sexy look and another naughty smile.

"If I have more than couple of glasses of this delicious wine," she said holding up her glass to swirl around the wine. "You'll be putting me to bed, undressing me, and taking sexual advantage of me, I'm afraid."

I suddenly had the sexual vision of carrying her to bed and undressing her.

"Well, rest assured, Gwen, that I'd put you to bed and probably undress you, so as not to wrinkle your clothes," I said in a voice that impersonated the late, great comedian, W. C. Fields. "But I'd never take advantage of you, Maureen's baby sister," I said with a dirty laugh.

She laughed, too.

"Well, that's good to know. As far as undressing me, I'm much like my sister in that regard, we could have been nudists. My mother is like that, too. She's answered the door in her bra and panties. She's sunned herself in the backyard topless and naked in front of the pool men and/or the landscapers. Actually, now since Maureen died, she doesn't care who sees her topless and/or naked.

She laughed.

"Like me, I guess my mother is a bit of a whore," she said with a laugh. "I can't tell you how many nude beaches we've frequented, but my Dad is an absolute prude. He doesn't understand our need for nudity," she said with a laugh. "He's never gone with us to a nude beach."

# # #

I made note of the nudist remark. Suddenly, drunk, and naked, I imagined seeing Gwen, her mother, and Maureen standing together on the sand of a nude beach with nothing on but a smile. Damn, I was so freaking horny right then.

"Do you smoke?"

I looked at her sitting pretty in her smart, short skirt and button white blouse. Whenever she crossed her legs, whether deliberately or unintentionally, she flashed me a triangular patch of white panty. Then, every time she leaned forward, I was rewarded with a nice down blouse view of her ample cleavage.

Damn, she has huge breasts.

'Stop staring, Mark, I repeated to myself. Feeling so much like the pervert that I am, I felt like I was leering at her, especially every time she crossed her legs or leaned forward. Yet, she made me horny,' I thought while continuing to stare at her.

"No, I've never smoked," she said with a toss of her hair, the same toss that Maureen did that made me crazy with desire for her, whenever she looked up at me and was about to tell me something about herself.

She paused to take another long sip of her wine.

"I was a runner in high school and in college." She gave me a sexy smile. "And I'll have you know that I was on the swim team, as well," she said putting a hand to her hip and flashed me a supermodel smile. "I earned twelve letters in high school."

I flashed her a smile.

"Yeah, I can see that," I said admiring her figure. "With your broad shoulders and slim waist, you have more of a swimmer's figure than you do a runners body."

Then, she looked at me with curiosity.

"Do you smoke?"

I shook my head from side to side.

"Nah, I never did. I was into boxing heavily at a very young age." I took a sip of my coffee. "My uncle owned a famous boxing gym in the west end of Boston across from the Boston Garden. I was the only white kid there," I said with a laugh.

# # #

I looked at my watch.

"I'm tired," she said with a yawn and a sexy stretch.

I stood.

"Come, let's get you to bed. I'll walk you to your room. We can sit and talk tomorrow. You must be tired after that long drive."

She shook her head, no.

"No, actually, if you don't mind, I'd like to stay up and talk for a while longer," she said while pouring herself a half glass of wine, her third glass. "I'm enjoying drinking this wine."

Remembering what she said about wine that she can't hold her alcohol, I took the bottle from her hand and filled her glass.

"Well, I'm glad that you're not driving because if wine treats your head the way that it attacks mine, it has a way of sneaking up on you." I laughed. "Let me know when you're ready for the wet T-shirt contest and I'll get the hose and some dollar bills to stuff down your panties."

She laughed.

"I think one more glass will put me in that mood," she said with another sexy laugh and a naughty look.

# # #

We adjourned to the comfort of the living room. I offered her the softness of the sofa, while I took my usual voyeur seat across from her in the soft, worn, brown leather of the recliner. She had another glass of wine, her fourth glass, while I settled for another cup of hot, strong, black coffee.

As if she was home in the comfort of her living room, she sat with her short skirt hiked up nearly up to the middle of her shapely thighs. Her knees were parted enough to give me a continual view of her bright, white, bikini panties. Never have I seen so much of a beautiful woman since Maureen stripped Colleen down to her bra and panties before stripping her topless and then, naked.

I knew that either Gwen would be sleeping where she was sitting or I'd be carrying her to bed. Hoping for the later, instead of the former, I imagined having to lift her shapely body and carry her to bed. I imagined having to strip off her clothes so that she didn't wrinkle them as my excuse for undressing her.

After a while, I watched her eyes briefly close, as she began to slur her words. Maureen was the same way. Whenever she had more than two glasses of wine, she was tipsy. Now, with Gwen consuming nearly four glasses within a two hour period, I figured she was a bit drunk.