Script Flipped

Wendy didn't have to tell me to be gentle with her. I knew she probably hadn't had sex with more than a few guys since Earl's death - if any. I knew they were very much in love with each other.

I took it very gentle and slow, starting with soft kisses on her lips as I helped her out of her clothes. She then started to help me out of mine as I started kissing her bare shoulders, then her upper chest and finally her nipples. Her 36C boobs still had life in them and were standing out proudly against gravity, with her nipples just begging to be gently chewed on. So I obliged for a few minutes while she removed my clothes.

Her gentle moans became a small shriek when my fingers found her wet pussy. I rubbed around the outside, putting gently pressure on her lips, before laying her down on her back. She started to reach for my hard dick and for a second I thought about doing a 69, but then I decided to make this night all about her. I turned her lengthwise on the bed with her head near the headboard, and I got my face between her gorgeous thighs. At that point I felt her tapping on my head, so I looked up to see her hand holding a small bottle of lube. I got that, too. We weren't kids anymore, and despite the fact that she was wet, she knew she would need a little help. I took the bottle and rubbed a little on her from top to bottom with my right hand, then I took a small swig out of the bottle, put my face against her inner lips and let the lube ooze into her opening. As she sighed, I slowly licked her pussy from bottom to top with the flat of my tongue. She shrieked again, both hips came off the bed and she spasmed against my mouth for a good 30 seconds. I continued to lick her slowly all the way through the orgasm, only stopping when I felt it subside.

I lifted my head to look at Wendy's face. Her head was flat down on the pillow, but she turned her glassy eyes to meet mine and gave me a smile big enough to say everything that needed to be said. I dove in gleefully, alternating between soft and furious with each orgasm. After her fourth, I started to hum while I worked, knowing that the soft sound produced additional vibration. She headlocked me with her thighs for a long orgasm, and when I pulled back to catch a breath of air I softly sucked on her clit, at which point she tried to knock me out by pounding my face with her pussy. I kept up a frenetic pace for another minute and got two more hard orgasms and a lot of unintelligible sound out of her before she finally started tapping the bed with her hands.

When I finally looked up, she could barely breath out an "Enough!" I gave her pussy a final kiss, then I worked my way up her body, licking and gently biting as I went. She had several small aftershocks before I finally got to her face and we started kissing.

"Need you inside now!" she urgently whispered, and I took the hint, sliding in gently in two strokes as she sighed. I got one more good orgasm out of her, then she started to concentrate on me by gripping me with her pussy muscles. I held on for 15 minutes before I let loose a torrent of cum, and she kept up a steady "uh-uh-uh" the whole time I was shooting inside of her.

My arms were tired from supporting myself by this point, so I rolled off of her and we lay side-by-side, smiling at each other and breathing heavily. We kissed some more, then we just lay entwined until I heard her breathing go into a regular cycle. She looked like an angel, and I must have watched her sleep for a good 10 minutes.

In the last three years since the divorce went through, I had been enjoying an amazing sexual renaissance and had enjoyed women of many ages. There was something about this coupling, however, that felt ... different. Yes, I was sated on a sexual level, but there seemed to be an emotional attachment with Wendy. I was just starting to wonder if she felt it, too, when I drifted off into what turned out to be my best night of sleep in forever.

While it was no longer uncommon for me to wake up in a strange bed in the morning, everything about this morning felt different ... you know, almost like a lazy Sunday morning wake-up in the old days, with Traci downstairs cooking breakfast and the girls running around her feet, playing some sort of game. But there was no Traci and no laughing children ... just Wendy frying up some bacon - if my nose was correct - and a pot of coffee already on. I put on my T-shirt and Dockers - couldn't find my shirt - and staggered downstairs without a care in the world. I then found my shirt. Wendy was wearing it, and only my shirt, with the sleeves rolled about to her elbows and the buttons done up only about halfway. My shirt never looked better.

"Hey, Sleepyhead, hope you don't mind that I borrowed your shirt? It just kind of smelled like you, and I wanted to be near that for a while longer," she related.

"Well, then, how about the real thing?" I asked. "Can a starving man get a little attention?"

She slowly sidled over to me as I stretched my arms out wide and took her in a strong embrace. She smelled like "us" from the night before, and I couldn't imagine a better fragrance in the whole world.

"Mmmmmm." I growled.

"Mmmmmm," she growled back.

We ate and discussed plans for the day. It was Saturday, so we had all day to do whatever we wanted. We never discussed what I was going to do, or what she was going to do. We discussed what we were going to do. We had made a few plans before I got my most brilliant thought ever.

"This is going to sound totally stupid, but how about getting married today?" I asked.

"You're the one with the genius IQ," she responded. "Whatever you think is best."

It was just that easy. I knew the local justice of the peace had Saturday hours, so I called to see if 4 p.m. was available. It was, so that gave us a little over seven hours to get cleaned up and get a wedding party together. I needed a best man, and Wendy's 28-year-old son Aaron was more than happy to stand up for me once I explained that the bride was his mother. He said that he and his wife and 2-year-old daughter would make the hour's trip and meet us at the JP.

Wendy called her mother and asked her to be her maid of honor. She had her cellphone on speaker when she asked, and my soon-to-be mother-in-law, whom I had never met, dissolved into tears before choking out an affirmative. I then called both of my daughters and invited April and Robert and Allison and whomever she wanted as her plus-one.

"Think I should invite Mom as my guest?" she asked cheekily.

"Only if you really, really want to, but I honestly would prefer you didn't," I said. "She's had a pretty rough go of it recently, and I don't want to look like I'm shoving my good fortune in her face."

One of my best friends in town owned a barbecue restaurant in the city, so I quickly called him at home and asked if he had one of his side rooms open for the night. Everything was running my way as he said he did, so I booked the room for the night. We then both invited a few more people we thought we'd like to have celebrate with us, before I hit my favorite jewelry store for an engagement ring and a pair of wedding rings.

++++++++++

Traci was coming out of her favorite boutique with some packages in her hands when she almost literally ran into Wendy on the sidewalk. Although the two weren't quite as close as they were at one time, they still remained friends and had been so for about 25 years. They chatted amicably on the sidewalk for a few minutes before Traci spotted the two rings on Wendy's left hand.

"Oh my God, girl, those are absolutely stunning ..."

Wendy blushed deeply as the light went on in Traci's brain.

"You're ... you're ... you're married ... Markley? You?"

Traci wavered a bit and Wendy thought she might pass out. She took her friend's shoulder and helped steady her.

"I didn't know. I'm sorry," Traci quickly apologized.

"We really haven't let the cat out of the bag too much. It just kind of happened so quickly," Wendy blushed.

"Quickly? That certainly doesn't sound like the Markley I know," Traci rejoined.

"Did you ever just get the feeling that things were so right that you just had to do it?" Wendy continued. "I mean, who let's a man like this go?"

Wendy immediately put her hand to her lips as she let the last thought slip out unguarded.

"I didn't mean it that way, Traci, honest. It's just that ..."

"Yeah, I get it, Wendy, it's OK. Trust me, I know I'm an idiot. Learn from my mistake and never let that man get away."

++++++++++

"Surely there's got to be more than one good guy out there," Traci was whining to her therapist, Dr. Ellen McForrest. "They seemed to be everywhere when I was deciding to dump Markley, then, just like that, they were all gone."

"You're a smart woman, Mrs. Robertson. You had to realize that good single men in your age range are way outnumbered. But you weren't fishing in those waters. Did you honestly believe you could snag a talented up and comer and keep him, even if you are a walking wet dream. You had to know that sooner or later you might actually have to talk to him and make a life with him, instead of just having sex with him to your heart ... or vagina's ... contentment.

"God, doc. Real life really does suck sometimes."

Epilogue:

I'm standing on the back deck of the house Wendy and I bought together soon after we were married 10 years ago. For so many reasons, we felt we should have "our house." It's a smaller house, with just two bedrooms, but it has a big living room and a big family room so there's room when we have all three kids and their families over. We are grandparents six times over now.

I'm manning the grill as Wendy comes out of the house carrying a couple of Staleys over ice. She hands one to me as I give her a peck on the lips. I can't help marveling how she looks 20 years younger than her 63 years. She still takes good care of herself, although she's started to work on letting some gray creep into the sides of her light brown hair. But she can still turn some heads when she dresses up for one of our occasional nights on the town. Hey, we may be Senior Citizens, but were not dead yet.

As a matter of fact, we're still having our fun in the bedroom twice a week, and sometimes we have some fun in the shower. A little pill for me, some lube for her ... medical science has been a godsend.

While I loved Traci with all my heart when we were married, I just can't imagine not spending the rest of my life with Wendy. She has captured my heart in a way Traci never did. In a perverse sort of way, I have to be thankful that Traci cheated on me, because without that pain I never would have gotten this pleasure.

I run into Traci every few months. While she still looks good physically, she always looks sad and always apologizes. I always think it, but I'm way too polite to ever say the words out loud: thank you.

++++++++++

At 65, Traci's large breasts no longer rode up high on her chest, but with a good support bra she still cut an impressive figure. She had gained back her cottage cheese ass, she noted, but as she moved through the strip mall she noticed men appraising her with nods. As she was heading toward her car in the parking lot, she spotted Mark coming toward her. She made sure she was standing up tall as he approached.

"Hello, beautiful," he said with genuine affection as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

Despite herself, Traci blushed at the compliment. The pair then made small talk for several minutes, mostly talking about their shared grandchildren, and then Mark said he had to get moving. He knew what was coming next.

"Mark, I really am sorry," Traci said.

As usual, Mark looked directly into Traci's eyes, hesitated, and smiled. He walked off.