The Other Woman's Club

"I figured they would only slow things down." She giggled like a school girl.

Her body was thinner than I remembered. Her breasts appeared softer than before, but her nipples were already erect and begging to be sucked. I moved from one nipple to the other several times, until she took my head into her hands and held me tightly against her right breast. A moan escaped her mouth and I felt her tremble. I eased her down onto the bed. As I stood between her legs I debated what to do next. In my younger days I might have entered her immediately; but now I wanted to make this last for the both of us.

I fell to my knees and slowly kissed my way up her long sensuous legs until I arrived at her junction. By that time she was already in panting mode. I attacked her pussy with a vengeance. I kissed and sucked on her lips as I made my way up to her clit. When I captured that extended morsel of nerve endings between my lips and began to suck, she lost it. I felt her hands at the back of my head, take two handfuls of hair, and secure me tightly against her body. Her legs clasped firmly against the sides of my head assuring that I was not going anywhere as she began to call out my name and the name of my creator.

"Dallas, oh God, Dallas, I'm going to cum again. Oh God I'm going to cum again." She screamed as she began to hump my face. Minutes later I felt her body go limp and she gave out a very contented sigh.

She released my head and allowed me to escape her vicelike grip. I stood, told her I'd be right back, and retreated to her bathroom. When I returned with a warm wet wash cloth I discovered that Monique had crawled to the head of the bed and was waiting with opened arms and legs; leaving little doubt that she was ready for the next round. I cleaned her up a bit and made a show of cleaning my face as well as my ever-ready member.

But instead of entering her I gently rubbed myself over her puffed lips and tapped her clit with the head of my cock. This went on for several minutes, the anticipation and frustration was evident on her face.

"Dallas, please don't make me beg, put it in, fuck me, I need it now, fuck me."

I slowly entered her, marveling at her wet heat. Here was a woman, nearly seventy four years of age; who would probably die in the next several months, but who was still sexy beyond words. I gave her every inch that I had, when she had it all I paused to allow her to get used to the feeling of being stuffed. I could feel the little tremors as her body collapsed around me. I slowly withdrew and then reversed directions once again. Again and again I repeated my movements; taking care not to over exert her disease ravaged body. Suddenly she opened her eyes and exclaimed.

"Dallas, I'm not going to break, give it to me; give it to me like you used to."

I increase the tempo and the intensity of our love making, but still held back a little, keeping in mind that we were both a lot older than we were the last time we were together.

"That's it, harder, faster. I want us to cum together one last time."

I shifted gears again and threw it into overdrive. I wasn't going to be able to maintain this pace for too much longer. Then she started to scream at me in French. I had no idea what she was saying, but I was pretty sure that they were words and phrases that they never taught in my French classes in high school.

My heart was pounding and my lungs were burning. Just as I felt the first spasms of my orgasm she switched back to English. "I'm cumming, cum with me" and I felt her arms wrap across my back and her heels dig into my butt.

When my contractions finally stopped and our breathing returned to normal, she looked deeply into my eyes and spoke in a low husky voice.

"I love you, Dallas. Thank you."

My eyes began to tear up and I rolled off to the side of the bed ending up on my back.

"I'm sorry Dallas, I shouldn't have said that. But you had to know that we all loved you. It was, I guess, a character flaw that we all suffered from. We were all Alpha females, we all needed a mate, and due to circumstances beyond our control you were the only available male. At one point we actually considered all living together and sharing you; but then, I believe it was your mother, who argued that Maria was the only one of us who would be a suitable mate for you considering the rest of us were so much older than you."

She turned away from me onto her side and said.

"Please hold me. I told Maria that you would probably be spending the night. She gave me her consent and asked me to tell you that she loved you and that she would see you tomorrow for breakfast."

I snuggled up against her back and threw my arm over her body and held her tightly against me.

"I love you, too." I managed to say as my emotions overwhelmed me.

After a few minutes, I heard her giggle, felt her hand slip between our bodies and grasp my now reenergized erection.

"Something was poking me in the butt." She said as she steered my organ between her thighs. "Let's just keep that thing here for safe keeping for now. Maybe later if I am up to it I'll take care of it."

We slept the rest of the night and in the morning I showered and returned to Maria.

Two months later we said our goodbyes to Monique. Jaundice had yellowed her skin and eyes and that hideous disease had robbed her of her beauty, but she maintained her dignity and her sense of humor until the very end. She died at home with her caretaker and Maria and I at her bedside.

And then there was one.

Maria lived for the next twenty years as the last surviving member of the Other Woman's Club. We got to see our son Pax get married to a great girl and the birth of their only child, our granddaughter Elizabeth named after her great grandmother, although she would be known as Beth.

Maria died peacefully in her sleep. That morning I woke up next to her. There was a slight smile on her face as if she was having a pleasant dream. It took me several minutes to notice that she was not breathing. When I reached out to touch her face, it was cold. Her death came as a surprise considering she seemed to be in relatively good health. The doctor said, sometimes nothing appears to be wrong, there are no symptoms, it's just your time. Because there was no apparent cause of death, the police interviewed me at length in order to satisfy themselves that her death was not a result of foul play. Our doctor sat in on their interview and interceded on my behalf.

Several months after her death, I sat down with the Home Owners Association Executive Board and the Director of the Community Center. We went over plans that I had prepared to build a memorial to the members of the Other Woman's Club behind the area at the pool that we had occupied for all those years. They told me that they couldn't spend any Association funds without the approval of the majority of the members.

"What if I supply all of the funds; it won't cost the members anything. In fact it will beautify an area that has been mostly neglected since it was first built."

I showed them my plans which consisted of a large marble ball sitting on a marble pedestal. Water would be pumped out of a collection pool at the base and flow out the top of the ball. There would be a semi-circle of desert plants which would attract butterflies and humming birds and the fountain would supply drinking water for the wildlife. In the space between the fountain and the plants a plaque would be mounted on a granite block which would read:

In Memory of the Women of the Other Woman's Club

Maria, Monique, Daria, Helen, Liz, and Janet

The End

Afterword:

When I first began writing this story I thought it was going to be about what I felt was how the first pandemic started and how in the near future a second more deadly pandemic would take place. Because I have limited time to write, I often have long periods of time between writing sessions.

It was during one of these periods that I found myself drilling down to how a new pandemic would affect a relatively small circle of people. In that same period my wife heard from a former boss who now lives in another part of the country. He was asking for our prayers because his child was in the hospital yet again and gravely ill. I remembered his telling us several years before that his daughter was going through gender reclassification procedures. In essence his daughter was in the process of becoming his son. S(he) was barely eighteen when the process started. It started with hormone treatments and progressed over time to surgeries to remove her breasts and reproduction systems. That's when the problems began. She became deathly ill and on more than one occasion ended up in intensive care.

With her on my mind, I changed the focus of the story. I changed the gender because I felt more comfortable with a male changing to a female. At that point I began hearing about activists pushing for young children, some as young a twelve to fifteen years of age, to have the right to have their bodies mutilated without their parents' consent. I thought I could in a small way affect the lives of some of these children if I could show them what would happen if they started down this path but because of circumstances beyond their control could not complete their transition.

And that how waiting until they were older and had more worldly experience, might result in a change of heart and they would realize what a tragic mistake they had avoided.

Before I knew it, I was changing the size of the second pandemic from severe to catastrophic; killing off nearly all of the post-puberty male population.

First, I want to apologize to all my fellow males; but you have to admit that we are mostly responsible for nearly all the violence in the world. Without males in positions of power there would be far less aggression and hate in the world.

Second, we have to be more aware that the alphabet activists are pushing this transgender movement. And in order to succeed, they are trying to circumvent a parent's right and duty to care for and do what they feel is best for their child's future. These activists are pushing, with the help of the schools and the majority of the media, to have the 'nanny state' make these choices for the children, before they are even capable of making such an irreversible decision for themselves.

These activists, as usual, play the race card, or in this case the gender card claiming that we the people are discriminating against them in some way. This is not about them; they are going to go on their way and do what they want to do, leaving the parents to try to deal with the lives of their broken children when the excrement hits the fan.

I'll get off my soap box now. Thank you for reading my stories. I look forward to receiving your comments. Remember, as an amateur, your comments are the only compensation I receive.