Ready For Love Pt. 01

Ready For Love, part one

I'm not sure why, but I prefer the look of what some might refer to as an average woman. She isn't the knockout babe with the "perky" tits, "juicy ass", perfectly toned body, and a face that could launch a thousand ships. Nope, she's the everyday housewife we encounter numerous times a day. My late wife was like that, she had the girl next door look down to a science, and while she didn't officially live next door, three houses away was close enough for us. What is about the everyday housewife that can be so tantalizing, so seductive and inviting even though she isn't on the prowl? You see her everywhere you go, the grocery store, gas station, post office, department stores, diners, school, sports activities ... the list seems endless.

She doesn't necessarily dress to impress any longer unless it's a special occasion, even then she dresses for her man and he's happy with her. She leans more toward overall comfort in her attire, she doesn't always stand out in a crowd, yet is still pretty enough to hold her own. She isn't concerned with the younger flashier women, she knows the time will come when gravity and the reality of having children will visit them as well. Her man make look at times, but doesn't touch, she knows him backward and forward, his likes, his dislikes, they've been together long enough they finish the others sentence at times.

She stopped wearing seductive undies on a daily basis after the third baby, they only seemed to guarantee another pregnancy. She determined her stretch marked boobs and jiggling ass were more in need of comfortable underwear than sexy, stretch lace, ass hanging out around a strip of cloth uncomfortable thongs. Herbie adores her and meets her physical needs two or three times a week, never once has he complained about what her bra or panties looked like.

She's married to mister average and like her he doesn't necessarily turn heads anymore, he works in the trades so the common misconception is that he's a hard headed drinker and difficult to live with. On the job he may be a pain in the butt, but at home he's quite different. In fact, he's quite the opposite, if he's gonna drink a beer he does it at home, he doesn't need a tavern to feel accepted and one of the boys, there's no one there he wants to impress anyway.

He still brings her flowers and a card just because, he plans date nights, at times he tells her to go do something while he watches the kids. He's a simple man, but very affectionate to her, a loving husband, energetic daddy and still makes her heart skip a beat. His gestures of affection and loving tenderness toward her continually reassure her she's all he needs, she's a loving devoted wife with a warm wet pussy to bury his cock in, which she knows keeps him a happy camper.

Her underwear drawer contains mainly items of comfort, but she also has what she calls fun stuff. Those three or four sets of matching slinky sexy panty/bra's, stockings and a garter belt that are typically saved for a night on the town, or if she wants him to fuck her savagely as soon as the kids are asleep. If they're out for an evening she likes to not only look good for Herb, she likes to feel sexy and desirable underneath her outerwear. Though no one but hubby will see or touch them, she loves the sensation of knowing she looks like mommy home maker on the outside but is dressed in "take me home and fuck me lingerie" underneath. The only one in her mind that will ever do that is the guy she married and she's happy with that arrangement.

When the slow song they once called "their song", begins to play, the one that was playing the first time he was brave enough to kiss her at the high school dance. Snug in his arms she moves in tight to his body, letting everyone watching know they belong to each other. With her pelvis pressed tight to his she whispers in his ear, "I'm wearing your favorite panties and stockings", a smile invades her otherwise stoic expression as she feels his dick begin to harden and protrude between their bodies. If she were able to let what she calls her favorite toy loose the tip would easily reach her navel, for now she'll have to settle for her favorite toy rubbing against her mound through layers of clothing.

She giggles as he moves his hand down to her ass and draws her in harder than before, he feels her legs part gently as she begins to ride his thigh, not in a grinding slutty fashion, but rather with soft gentle pressure leaving no doubt to anyone watching that he is her man. On the way home she raises her skirt enough for him to see the straps of her garter belt and the lacy tops of her sexy patterned stockings, then takes his hand and puts it on the inside of her thigh. The silk stockings are inviting and smooth, heat and musk radiate from her warm damp panties, his dick stiffens once more, she sees it and smiles. In a smoky voice she asks.

"Is that a summer sausage in your pants or are you happy to see me?"

He gives her that, 'you are such a tease look' and says, "Damn you woman, when we get home I'm gonna eat your pussy until you cream and then fuck you until you scream."

She smiles, in spite of the fact that her breasts are no longer young and what were once called "stiff" they don't sag much either, the pretty pink areolas are now a darker color, almost brown with darker extended nipples. Little lips sucking on them for a year or more at a time tends to render those results, yet her man loves to suck on and nibble at them. She thinks about how he holds and forms them, lightly biting the sides sending shivers of pleasure down her spine. She's anxious to get home, pay the sitter and get ready, he'll walk the two blocks with the sitter to make sure she gets home alright, and by the time he returns mommy homemaker be lying on the bed waiting.

Wearing just panties, stockings, and a belt she beckons to him in a "come hither" fashion. Hubby likes a full bush so she keeps it trimmed in the warm swimsuit season but lets it grow wild during the off season. She laughs to herself, "wild" hell, it's thick but barely covers the mons to begin with, and the few hairs along the vulva are easily spilt by his tongue or dick. In the warmer seasons she trims the few strands that might want to be renegades and sneak out the leg opening, but that's it.

His hand slides into her panties as they neck, she instinctively raises her hips from the bed pushing into his exploring hand, he always groans when his fingers slowly snake their way through her pubic hair, thick and silky. He lingers there momentarily, tugging playfully as he explores and then dips a finger into the warm slick crevice guarding the entrance to her vagina, it always feels so good as he stimulates and then gently probes the warm wet opening of her baby canal. With a nipple in his mouth, his hand in her panties and a finger being slid into her sex she wiggles her hips and whispers.

"Yes daddy, give it to mama. Plant another baby inside me.

With her sufficiently warmed up he slides down to take her panties off, leaving the belt and stockings on, then lays on his back next to her, she knows what to do. She crawls up his body stopping long enough to drop a tit into his eager waiting lips for a bit of nipple play, then proceeds further up his body grabbing the headboard and slowly lowering her vulva directly onto his mouth. Within minutes her hips are bucking as she grinds her clit against his stiff tongue while creaming his face. She isn't loud, in fact she's almost silent, head is thrown back, one hand holds the headboard as the other squeezes and pulls at her breast.

The only sounds are of her breathing deeply and then saying softly, "Thank you baby, thank you. That was so good. That tongue of yours, my gosh."

Sliding down his body she stops to kiss him, tasting the sweet yet tangy girl cum on his face, licking his lips before plunging her tongue deep into his mouth. With a free hand she reaches for his cock, it's as she had hoped it would be, stiff and pulsing in her grip. The veins are bulging to the point that she can feel them, as her fingers glide over the fat purple looking head they slide through pre-cum, turning sideways to his body she licks the pre-cum and opens her warm mouth for more. She loves his cut dick, the thickness of the head, the large circling mushroom like rim she locks her lips on when he cums in her mouth, making sure none of his thick creamy warm baby batter escapes her lips. There's been more than once he had so much to offer she found herself gulping to stay ahead.

With his dick sufficiently hard and wet she swings her leg over his body, reaches between them, grabs his cock and puts it at the entrance to her vagina, they're both wet enough she doesn't hesitate pushing onto him with slow determined pressure. Each loves the feel of silk stockings as they glide along the outside of his thighs, for them it's seductive, it's a sensation they discovered early on in their love making and didn't let it get away. As the head opens her labia and enters her vagina the walls contract and gently massage the length of him, their pubic hair meshes with him being completely engulfed inside her, as he pushes upward she moans softly before speaking seductively.

"I love your cock, it fills me so good, yours is the perfect cock for my pussy. Take over and give it to me, put a baby inside me tonight, I want one more before I get my tubes tied."

Twenty minutes later they lay in one another's arms catching their breath, it's she who speaks first, "Are you okay hon, you sounded like you came really hard. Did it hurt?"

He responds, "It was wonderful, thank you, and if it hurt, it hurt good, I felt like it was coming from every cell of my body. You wear me out."

She smiles to herself in the dark with the thought, 'I wear him out', my breasts droop to the sides when I lay down instead of standing straight and proud as they did before the babies, but the nipples are hard and always ready for him to suck. She says to herself, "I like the fact that he looks past the stretch marks and scar from the cesarean when he brings me to moaning climaxes with his tongue. He loves my bush and has made me promise I will never shave it for anything other than a medical procedure, although in this day and age I have no idea what that might be."

They walk into the half bath, she sits on the potty while he warms a washcloth and washes his dick, after clearing the soap from his dick he wets it again in warm water and hands it to his bride. Walking into the dark bedroom he stumbles around his side of the bed looking for his discarded underwear. Leaving the bathroom she opens her dresser, finds a pair of cotton panties, puts them on and slips the oversized long shirt over her head. In his arms he mentions to her.

"Did you notice the guys at the far table giving you the once over?" He asks.

"Mmm-hmm, I saw them, they can notice all they like. But the rules stay the same until one of us dies, forsaking all others I chose you and you chose me, you're the only one that gets in these panties. Was I dressed slutty, is that why they kept staring? It felt kinda creepy."

"Nope, it wasn't you, it was them. I love that jean skirt on you, it stops just below half thigh which shows off your legs. I think they were just horny young guys looking at a pretty woman in stockings."

She rubs her hand through his hairy chest as she responds, "Like I said, they can look but they can't touch. You and you alone have the right to feed my hungry kitty. Do you think you have enough energy for another round? From behind would be nice, I promise not to scream and wake the kids. So, how bout it, can I have more?"

A half hour later as she puts her panties back on and smiles to herself, she slides in bed beside the love of her life. Reaching for him she thinks to herself how amazing it is to have a husband like Herb and the fact that a little pink slit between her legs could render such pleasure for she and hubby. As she drifts off she thinks to herself, "life is good for hubby and me."

***************

Though we hadn't had time to have children that's how marriage to my average every day late wife was, I was her world and she was mine. Sadly, that's not the housewife I see very often any longer, I serve 10 to 20 a day at the hardware store where I work. I don't own it but I've been there since high school, the owners were close friends with my parents and I'm close friends with their son and daughter who now own and operate the store. I have an upper management position, they pay me well, I have benefits and have been there long enough my working hours can be flexible if need be, which is seldom. You might say the store became my life after my bride succumbed to the big C, you know how that goes, it always happens to someone else. It angered me as I watched her wither away while the smoking, drunken, unhealthy slobs next door went about as though they'd live forever.

Like so many other small-town couples, we'd been together in one fashion or another from the age of ten. We married within a year of graduating, she became a nurse, I took night courses at the local U for business management. With our schooling out of the way and my job at the store secure our plans were to start a family when we turned twenty-five, only to learn that her body was riddled with cancer at the age of twenty-four. Having watched my bride waste away for over a year, at the age of twenty-six I was on my own for the first time in my life, only my dad was alive when I married, he died when I was twenty-two.

My job at the store is what was referred to as a "floating position", I checked invoices when merchandise was delivered, I stocked shelves if need be, I manned the lumber desk, and almost every day at some point I worked the registers. I saw every variation of the average housewife there was known to man. Short, tall, wide, thin, dressed to kill, dressed to seduce, dressed to look nice without looking trashy and dressed in the paint covered grubby clothes they'd been wearing before they ran out of paint and needed another gallon to finish.

When I first lost my late wife Karen I didn't much care about anyone or anything other than my grief. Loneliness became a way of life, I had no libido to speak of, women didn't interest me much and I guess it showed. Most would say hi and go about their business, always with a sad look in their eyes, as though they were taking on the sorrow that had surrounded my life. There was the occasional one who'd try and engage in a conversation which usually went like this.

"Hi Joel. How are you doing these days? I never see you in town, do you get out much, remember, you can't grieve forever. Lots of fish left in the sea, maybe it's time to go fishing."

Though I would generally answer politely and thank them for their concern my thoughts were more along the line of the following unspoken words.

'Why don't you mind your own fuckin business? You come in here with a low-cut top, your tits are smooshed together with a push up bra that makes you look like a slut, your yoga pants are so tight your pussy looks like two rolls of pennies stuffed between your legs. You take care of yourself lady, I'll take care of me.'

Of course, I never said such things, with a smile on my face as they took their purchase and bid me adieu my thoughts would be along the lines of, 'now fuck off'. Then again there were those who were sincere and wanted only to be encouraging whether my cock was free or not. Those conversations sounded like this.

"Hi Joel. How are you coping these days? Karen's death was such a shock to the community, be blessed and if you ever need anything let us know."

Shortly after the one year mark of Karen's death my pain was starting to subside and I was beginning to come alive again. I was never a tavern guy, a few cold ones at home in my woodshop in the evening was more enjoyable to me than listening to the drunk's brag about their big cocks, the ones they didn't actually possess. Then the lies would begin about all the women they'd fucked and carried on with, hell there weren't enough women in town to do what they suggested, even if they fucked half of them twice. Quite frankly, I doubted that any of them could even get it up long enough to complete the process anymore.

In the second summer since Karen's death a cute brunette named Meredith came to work at the store, she was 19, living with her aunt, had just finished her first year of college and was saving money for the second year. Instead of pulling an experienced checker off a register it was common for me to take new hires like her under my tutelage for a few days. They would see how things operated, how to stock shelves, how to use the paint mixing machine and since I found myself on registers at least part of every day, how to run the registers along with how to treat people. After all, if they stopped buying, we'd no longer be working.

Meredith wasn't from our quaint little town, she lived in a large city several hundred miles from Two Rivers, but was much closer to our state college where she was enrolled. With an aunt living in town it made more sense to stay local during the summer than travel home and back in the fall. She was a nice girl, pleasant personality, extroverted and had a great sense of humor, at five foot eight and average in build she looked like the quintessential girl next door. I remember thinking, "if she wasn't so young".

She had outgrown her soft baby fat and round face, the rest of her body seemed to have followed suit. At first glance her breasts seemed to coordinate with the rest of her frame, they were there without having to look for them, I found myself surmising they were probably a full B cup. Breast size has never been much of a factor for me, I know there are guys who insist on a woman having large breasts, but if you can't get it in your mouth, to me it's wasted. My late wife Karen was small on top, she wore an A cup but probably should have worn a B because they tended to spill out depending on the design of the bra.

Meredith's hips were beginning to widen as a woman's body tends to do when she matures, her legs were long and her torso short so her legs seemed to go on forever. Those attributes along with a beaming smile and pretty face made it hard to not see her. She was a quick learner, I never had to show her twice, it was as though she had a photographic memory, (unlike so many men who seem to only have a pornographic memory) within three days she was on her own. I was puttering in my woodshop one evening when I noticed a Chevy Cruz pull into my driveway, wondering who that might be I stepped outside the shop.

Meredith's long brown hair was swirling around her head as a soft gust of wind made its way through the neighborhood, I found myself visualizing Karen. Except for the fact that Karen's hair was a bright red, Meredith could have easily passed for her as I stared through the haziness of dusk. A smile was plastered on her face as she approached me.

"Hi Joel, have you eaten yet?"

"Um, nope, I was gonna toss a pizza in the oven. What did you have in mind?"

"I just picked up a Hawaiian from Big Al's, I'd be happy to share it with you."

Sitting at one of my assembly tables we chomped away at the zza, she asked if she could have a beer which made me raise an eyebrow.

"It's okay, I drink at college all the time, I usually have one each night with auntie before she goes to bed."

I nodded, "Okay, but only one, you're driving."

A few weeks later on a Thursday right after work she asked if we might talk a minute while standing by our vehicles in the parking lot. I nodded.

"This weekend the Lions Club is having a chicken BBQ fundraiser at the park pavilion, I'd really like to go but I don't actually know anyone well enough other than you. I'm also trying to avoid two guys who seem to think because I've been to college I'll want them to do me. Would you go with me?"