The Merry Widow

Author's preamble:

The characters in this story are both over 18. It is entirely fictional: any similarity between them and real people is coincidental.

The Merry Widow is a stand-alone tale of two septuagenarians finding a new lease of life together.

I lost Bert, my husband, two years ago and still miss him dearly. I miss his companionship and I miss the physical side of marriage - we were sexually active right up to the heart attack that took him. Friends have tried to get me out more but I'm not a very social person so I've had no bedtime fun since Bert but I was determined to change that and set my sights on my next-door neighbour, John.

Regular as clockwork is John! Every evening, right after the Ten o'clock News, he takes his dog for a short walk along the dark footpath that runs past the back of our properties. He had devotedly nursed his wife through ten years of emphysema but lost the battle in spring, about six months after I lost Bert, when the last chest infection proved too much for her. We often exchanged greetings and local gossip over the low fence dividing our properties and he seemed a real nice man, about my age of 70. How was I to attract him?

My bedroom was visible from his back garden and from the footpath so I started by leaving my curtains open and the light on when I moved from the bathroom to bedroom, pottering around preparing for bed in just my night dress. In our younger days, Bert had encouraged me to expose myself 'accidentally'. It always gave us both a buzz of passion when other people saw my undies and occasionally a bit more flesh than was 'decent' so this sort of thing was nothing new to me. In the past, it had always been well away from home and exposing myself at home gave me an extra frisson of excitement, never mind that it was just John from next door who could see me.

I knew he was watching because his flashlight switched off outside my back fence so after a few evenings of this, I stood in my bathroom pondering whether to raise the stakes or not. I threw my bathrobe on and carried my nightdress to the bedroom as I heard his back door open and close. Yes, his flashlight went off again so I turned my back to the window, took off my bathrobe and changed into my nightdress. Over the next few days, I turned more towards the window, eventually giving John the full frontal.

One morning we were both out back hanging a line of washing when he called me over to the dividing fence. He sort of coughed in embarrassment and said quietly, "You looked really lovely last night, Meg."

I felt myself blushing but said, "What do you mean?"

He smiled. "You know what I mean, Meg. And thank you."

For the next few days, I changed my routine and undressed in the bedroom, performing a strip tease for him. He never said any more about it so I realised I would have to break the ice. Again talking over the fence between us, I invited him to my place for the next evening, "I'll make us a meal and we can share a bottle of wine."

"Sounds lovely," he smiled, "I'll bring the wine."

My hairdresser could come to me tomorrow morning, as it was 'an emergency', and I told her briefly that I had a 'date', something that amused her even though I did not say who my date was. She wished me luck as she packed her things away and left. In the afternoon, I did most of the preparation of the food then put the casserole in the oven. I baked a chocolate sponge and slathered chocolate fudge all over it.

I debated with myself long and hard about what to wear and settled on a blue, light angora, cardigan, with a neckline deep enough to show a decent cleavage, and knee-length cotton skirt matching the top in colour. Underneath I wore a blue bra and panties set Bert used to like. Look, I'm 70, OK? At that age, boobs sag a little and there are extra pounds distributed around my body, but overall, I had kept most of my shape and I have been described as 'cuddly'. My makeup was light, just enough to add some colour to my face and lips. I wore no hosiery and just a pair of comfortable shoes on my feet.

John knocked on my door at 7 o'clock wearing neatly pressed fawn slacks and a short-sleeved summer shirt. "You look beautiful, Meg," he said, as he looked me up and down to get the full effect and smiled. We kissed on the cheek and he passed me two bottles of a light German wine and a small but very pretty bouquet. The condensation on the bottles told me they were nicely chilled. I took them and the flowers from him, invited him in and sat him on one end the sofa while I took the gifts to the kitchen. I arranged the flowers in a vase that I placed on the kitchen table, already laid out for dinner. I put one wine bottle in the fridge, opened the other, poured two glasses then sat on the other end of the sofa, body and knees turned to face him. I explained that dinner would be ready in half an hour so we sat sipping our wine and in general chitchat.

Lifting my glass of wine, I joked, "Two bottles John? Are you trying to get me drunk so you can have your wicked way with me?"

"Well now," he said with a grin and a twinkle in his grey eyes, "it may be you me getting drunk and you having your wicked way with me. You knew I was watching you every night Meg, when you undressed, even though I must say, I always enjoy the show."

I felt my face flushing with slight embarrassment. "You can't be interested in this old body."

"Why else would I stop outside to watch? Meg, neither of us is young: I have more than a few wrinkles; you have a few as well: we've earned them. I'm not going to attract a young bimbo, I wouldn't even want one, and I don't see a queue of young studs outside your front door. In my eyes, you look lovely, OK?"

"Thank you John; I haven't had a compliment like that for more years than I care to remember. So," I lifted my glass and drained it, "drink up; let us both get a little drunk and see what happens." I was pleased to see him drain his glass so I refilled them both.

For several long seconds, we just looked at each other. He was a couple of inches taller than my 5'3" and quite slim. His neatly cut hair was mainly grey with hints of red and a small bald patch surrounding his crown; he was clean-shaven. His shirtfront was open enough for me to see a few reddish-grey hairs on his chest and a similar sprinkling down his arms. I couldn't see any fat on his body. I raised my eyes and saw that he was looking up and down my body: then our eyes met. His smile was confident; not at all embarrassed that he had been 'caught' checking me out. But I had been doing the same. He put his fingers to his lips and blew me a kiss. I stood, kissed him briefly on the lips and said, "Let's eat."

He followed me to the kitchen, topped up the wine and sat at the table as I dished up the meal. He seemed to enjoy the casserole and emptied his plate, although refusing another helping. I cleared the dishes and cut a couple of wedges of the chocolate cake, presented one to him and offered him the cream jug. He was generous with the cream and I copied him. John then surprised me by drawing his chair close to me. He cut a spoonful of cake and cream from my dish and fed it to me: it seemed so intimate so I fed him a spoonful too. Again, he presented another morsel to me and when I had swallowed that, he dabbed my lips with his napkin then brought my wine glass to my lips and encouraged me to take a big drink. We both continued to feed each other in this manner: John had to open the second bottle of wine partway through our romantic desert and we both encouraged each other to keep feeding and offering wine until our dishes were empty except for the remnants of chocolate fudge sauce.

My guest smiled at me then wiped his middle finger round his dish, collecting the sauce. He raised his finger to my mouth, inviting me to lick it. I stuck my tongue out and savoured the delicious chocolate from his finger, which he then pushed against my lips. It felt so erotic when his finger slipped between my lips and I avidly sucked the chocolate away before he scooped some more from my dish and repeated the actions. He pushed his digit in and out, simulating a sexual act: the combination of the wine and this erotic action had me moaning around his finger and gave me an idea.

I scooped a finger full of chocolate and smeared it on his lips. I closed in with my mouth and licked the sticky mess away, slipping my tongue between his lips very briefly. Excited by my actions, I pushed the boat out even further by picking up his dish and licking a blob of sauce onto the tip of my tongue and hit him with a full-blown French kiss. The meal was forgotten as we held onto the kiss until we broke apart, panting. We had just half a glass of wine each left so, at his encouragement, we both drained them.

"I have another bottle in the fridge at home," he said, "Shall I get it?"

"Bert often liked a glass of brandy after a meal. Would you rather have that?"

"That would be lovely, Meg"

I was rising to get the liquor when he stopped me. "Do you like pot?"

"John, John, the 'Swinging Sixties' was my time, too. I haven't enjoyed a joint in years though. Do you have any?"

He smiled, stood and left the house, returning just a couple of minutes later with an obviously well used pouch. While he was gone, I poured two generous balloons of brandy and set them on the coffee table in front of the sofa. I also popped the top three buttons of my cardigan to show more of my cleavage: I was feeling more than a little tipsy and definitely horny and he pointedly looked at my less modest neckline. He sat beside me on the sofa and started rolling a joint. When finished, he lit it, took a big pull and passed it over to me. It had been many, many years since I last smoked a joint and my first pull had me coughing; he had been very generous with the active fillings. Woosh, my head began to spin but I persevered and, more carefully, took another couple of drags before passing the joint back to him.

We both sat back and relaxed on the sofa; John put his arm round my shoulders and pulled my head to rest on his shoulder as we shared the joint and sipped the brandy. It felt so good, so relaxing, to be in the arms of a man again. He turned my head and bent his own down to kiss me on the lips: at first just tenderly but, as his tongue met and played with mine, the kiss became more passionate. John is a very sexy kisser.

His other hand came round and I felt his fingers stroking my eyebrow then sliding across to my ear. I shivered as he stroked around the shell of my ear until he fondled my earlobe between thumb and finger for a heavenly minute. He caressed the side of my neck all the way down to where my cardigan started then caressed his way back to my ear, which he scratched lightly. A single finger traced its way back down my neck, paused when it reached my cardigan, and then slid further down, moving aside the light wool. I shivered again as the finger continued its path over the swell of my upper breast then stopped, just retaining contact with my flesh: it felt like the finger was burning my skin.

He broke off the kiss and looked me straight in the eyes, his seemed luminous and his focus moved slowly down to his finger that was still searing my bosom. My gaze followed his. Smiling, I lifted his finger from my breast turned it and put it to his lips, encouraging him to purse them in a kiss. I brought the finger back down and placed it on exactly the same spot, feeling it burn again. He bent down and kissed my breast where his finger had touched: his lips seemed just as hot as his finger but he sat back, smiled and started another joint. We cuddled up again as we shared the smoke, again sipping at our brandy.

We both knew where we were going but we weren't in any great rush, savouring the relaxed romantic atmosphere, each of us initiating tender kisses. John's hand was cupping and weighing my breasts through the bra and my hand moved to his thigh then shuffled upwards to his groin. I was pleased to feel a very solid lump there. John was fiddling with the remaining buttons of my cardigan so I stood and gently pulled him to his feet. I kissed him briefly and said, "This would be much easier if we were undressed and in bed."

I led him to my bedroom but he stopped me from undressing. "Let me do that, Meg."

I stood there while he opened my cardigan all the way; he had no trouble with the small buttons, now having both hands free. He slipped the garment off my shoulders and pulled the sleeves down until it was clear. He folded it and laid it on the nearby chair. My bosom was heaving and my nipples were trying to force their way through my bra. He kissed the swell of my breasts then felt for my skirt's fastenings. Soon he was kneeling and lowering my skirt. I stepped out of the skirt, which joined my cardigan, and he removed my shoes then looked up and down my body, now clad in only that blue lace underwear. "You are so lovely Meg, beautiful."

I bent forward and gave his bald spot a sloppy kiss. I felt his hand hook under the waist of my panties then the cool air hit my pussy. I realised that I was soaking wet, dripping, down there and the smell of my arousal was pungent in the air. I stepped out of my panties and his face closed in on my groin. Instinctively, I parted my legs to give him better access and felt his breath cooling me before he kissed me down there and ran his tongue up my labia. God, how I wanted something solid in there but was denied as he kissed the rounded flesh of my tummy and insinuated his tongue into my navel.

Standing, he pulled my almost naked body close to his and hugged me in. I felt his hard tool pressing into my abdomen. He reached behind me and unclasped my bra, slipping it off my shoulders and down my arms so I stood before him fully exposed to his gaze. I was happy for him to feast his eyes as I opened his shirt and put it on top of my discarded clothes, and then it was my turn to get to my knees. I removed his shoes and socks then I opened his belt then pulled the zip down. His slacks fell to his feet and I helped him step out of them. Then there was only his bulging briefs between me and the solid flesh I wanted to touch. I kissed the wet spot on his briefs: John was clearly as ready for this as I was.

I pulled his briefs down and off: his beautiful tool was rampant and the head glistened with his pre-ejaculate. I could resist it no longer. I kissed the tip, tasting his manliness, took it into my mouth, exploring its contours with my tongue and sucking him in as much as I could. But John lifted me from my task and pulled me to the bed. I opened my legs and welcomed him into my arms on the bed. He kissed me thoroughly then he kissed and licked his way to my breasts. I love having my boobs played with: Bert was never much into breasts and paid them scant attention but John, oh he knew what to do with them. His kisses and nibbles at my nipples caused me to arch my back wanting more as his hands fondled the soft flesh.

After many heavenly minutes of these manipulations, he kissed over my tummy and knelt between my legs. He dived right in with his mouth on my pussy, licking away the juices that flooded from me, his tongue flattening against my labia then the tip slid up the crack approaching my throbbing clitoris but avoiding it, leaving me moaning for more. His hands parted and pushed away my clitoris hood and blew gently. The cool sensation inflamed me more until I was squirming in frustration. Then, suddenly, his mouth settled on my sensitive nub, sucked it in then bit it gently. That's when the volcano erupted throughout my body and I left this world for an age: his mouth continued working down there, prolonging the wondrous feelings.

"Oh John," I cried when the fires had subsided to a glow, "John, I want you in me. I need you inside me."

I felt him reposition himself and soon his tool was nudging at my pussy. Using my hands, I spread my lips and guided him into my waiting passage. Slowly but inexorably his lovely tool slid into place, filling me, penetrating all the way until his pubic bone pressed into my clitoris. He paused briefly then started a slow in and out movement, each stroke sinking in to the hilt then retreating until just his tool head was in me before penetrating me once more. He was kissing me and mauling my tits wonderfully as he fucked me with that lovely rhythm, massaging my insides with a little twist at the depth of each stroke. My body felt like it was on a slow trip to heaven and I sensed the fires starting to build in my belly again.

I wrapped my feet behind his thighs and urged him on. His rhythm speeded up at my encouragement and I found myself calling his name over and over as I felt that burning in my body until I called out loudly and pushed my groin back at him as the fire exploded inside me. I came back to earth and he was still drilling me relentlessly at his original speed; the embers still glowing and occasionally bursting briefly into small flames time and again. His rhythm was not rapid, almost as if he was conserving his strength for a final burst but before long, I became aware that he was speeding up in his own urgency. The thought of his sperm bathing my womb started me back on that delicious climb towards another orgasm until, finally, he gave a great moan, thrust right into me and held it there as I felt his spurts into my body and that set off my final orgasm.

He had collapsed, exhausted, and I loved the feel of his weight on me as his tool slowly softened; only when it plopped out did he kiss me briefly, rolled to the side and thanked me profusely. Our exertions had us both bathed in sweat.

"And thank you, John. That was wonderful." I wiped the dripping perspiration from my face. "I need a shower and I'd love to share it with you."

"A shower sounds good to me." He smiled and kissed me lovingly again while fondling my breasts before rolling off his side of the bed. Hand in hand, we went to the bathroom: I started up the shower and invited him to join me. After standing under the streaming water for a couple of minutes, he took the bottle of body wash and soon had me covered in the slippery foam. His hands and fingers were everywhere on my body and even in my body as he eased a finger into my pussy then, after a moment's hesitation, another finger nudged at my bum then slipped inside. He looked at my face to see if I objected to this innovation. I love having my bum played with and even anal sex if it's done carefully and gently so I welcomed the intrusion.

The finger in each hole alternated strokes, one going in as the other came out while his teeth were gently nibbling at a nipple and, amazingly quickly it seemed to me, I felt my body suddenly overwhelmed as another orgasm hit me. I almost collapsed over his bent body but he kept me upright and carefully rinsed the suds off me. Then he handed me the gel and I washed him as thoroughly as he had done for me. I spent a lot of time washing his groin area; his tool started to respond to my handling and I found myself going on my knees in front of him.

Even soft, his tool looked beautiful. I held it up, pulled back the foreskin and kissed the head then took it into my mouth, swirling it around with my tongue. I looked up at him: he was watching me taking him in my mouth with a smile on his face. He pursed his lips and blew me a kiss so I concentrated on my task. There was definitely life in his tool and I thrilled to find it responding to my ministrations, swelling until it was filling my mouth. Then the shower dribbled and shut down: the static tank was empty. In a way, I was glad; my knees didn't like the hard shower floor and my muscles were starting to ache. He helped me stand and I hobbled to the airing cupboard to fish out two large towels. We dried each other off: not nearly so efficient but much more fun than drying ourselves.