Summer, My Sister's Best Friend

A sweaty mess, we showered and, in between my sister waking up and falling back to sleep, we had sex all over again as if it was the first time again. Every time we had sex was as if it was the first time. Every time she got me off with her mouth or her pussy, I got her off with my finger, my tongue, and my cock. As if this was our Honeymoon, Summer stayed the night and every night thereafter.

* * * * *

Not long after my sister's funeral, I married Summer that summer. I think my sister would have approved that I married her best friend, her fiancée's sister. Moreover, it's appropriate that I married Summer in the summer of '85 being that I met her in the summer of '68, seventeen years ago. We remained married for 28 wonderful years, until her death this summer. With so much that's happened during the summertime, it's appropriate that Summer died in the summer.

Still that eight year age difference that set us apart in the beginning but that didn't matter in the end, no longer looming as large, she was 71-years-old when she died and I'm now 63-years-old. Being that we always kidded one another about our ages, if I live another eight years, we'll finally be the same age. I hope that I live at least another eight years, old enough to be the same age or older than Summer.

My life won't be the same without Summer. A big piece of me is missing. Yet, if I waited this long to have her, I can wait a little longer to be with her again. I know my angel will be waiting for me in Heaven.

I bought her a good grave plot on a hill beneath a tree, resting in peace next to Christine, her best friend, and next to me, her husband and the true love of her life, when I die. I go there every Sunday to spend time with her. As if she's still there talking to me and she is, I still love talking to her while having my coffee. I bring a thermos of coffee and pour her a cup. Fortunately for me, adding to my fantasy that she's still alive, as if she's still here with me, my daughter, the spitting image of her mother, comes with me to visit her mother's grave. The only woman more beautiful than my wife is my twenty-six-year-old daughter, Summer.

THE END

This is a Summer Lovin' contest story. Please vote.