The Reawakening

I'd waited for this time to happen all of my working life. When I retired, I told myself all of those years, I'd do all of the things that I had set aside while I had my nose to the grindstone, my head in The Books.

I was going to go on cruises and experience other countries. I was going to travel; to Europe, to the Middle East, to the Pacific. I was going to return to the hobbies I'd dreamed of working on full time, once I had the time.

I was going to sleep in late.

I hadn't accomplished all of those other dreams, but this one I was. Watching TV until late or reading a book, and then...

Here I was at 63, divorced, exhausted, and deep in a depression that had been building for the last seven months since I'd retired. I would look in the mirror after I'd had a shower, and wonder, Where is that woman that my husband just couldn't get enough of when we were first married?

Now I saw that sad face with more than a few wrinkles that belied earlier happier times, and a head of steel grey hair that hung limply down to my shoulders.

Now I was just a worked out, worn out husk of that younger woman. My husband had left me years ago for a much younger woman, and I'd taken the house as revenge. Then I found that that house had too many memories for me to bear living in, so I sold it. And then I put what I made into the fund for all of my adventures that I was now having a hard time doing anything except imagine.

Was this the life I was going to have until I died? I knew I should get out more. I knew I should do more than just go shopping. I knew I should go dancing, go to bars; the whole "put myself out there again" thing.

I just didn't feel up to it.

I didn't have any children or grandchildren that most of my friends seemed to relish having around. That was part of why my husband left me. He'd begun to want to have children when he hit his forties. I was no longer 'just enough' for him, like he'd always told me. Back when I was vibrant and alive and not bogged down in work.

So I'd moved into this one bedroom "luxury" apartment. It had a pool that I never went to. It also had a gym that I never worked out in. It had a nice view from the roof that I never seemed to go up to enjoy though.

I didn't know any of my neighbors. All of my friends became former friends as their lives got caught up in their families. I was really in rather sorry shape.

That's when I bumped into Him.

----------------------

This is a really nice building, I thought to myself after moving in. It was predominantly an adults only building, with a smattering of families here and there. It was more high end and made for adults rather than children, and I liked that.

It was rather on the impersonal side though, with it's smooth doored hallways and (at least on my side) balcony-less apartments. Oh, I'd been to the rooftop pool a number of times and struck up conversations with others from the building, but no real friendships had developed out of that.

It was a sweet building for someone like me who had seen no need for a house that I had to take care of. Here, everything was done for us.

For me, having come from a rather hardscrabble childhood, to be living in this building at 35 was a dream come true.

Work didn't provide more than the usual drinking after work, and I was never really one for having a lot of friends. I'd gotten that beat out of me in high school. College had been a good place for me, as I developed friends there, but none of them had ended up becoming lifelong friends. After college, they all just seemed to... fade away.

I went to work and then I came home. I went on vacations (when I could afford them), and went out to concerts and movies, always feeling like I was a 'single' pariah by not having a girlfriend or wife to be out with.

I'd lived a fairly solitary life. I didn't get along with my family. "He's too good for us," they'd say when I was home and they didn't think that I was hearing them. That is, when I did bother to go home at all. (Which was becoming more and more infrequent.)

I wasn't movie star handsome, and I didn't make a lot of money, so relationships were, for the most part, not in my future. (I thought.)

I went to work, I came home, I went out. Less and less as the years went by.

That's when I met Diana.

I'd seen this solitary woman several times, her head bowed down and heading home with groceries in her hands. She was older than me, so even though I thought that she was a nice looking woman -- bordering on beautiful to my mind, if not for her depressed looking demeanor.

I thought at the time, that she looked as if she were in her mid forties. She was on the slender side, And she dressed casually, not emphasizing her figure.

One weekend, I was about to pass her in the hallway, when one of her grocery bags began to break open. Luckily I was in front of her when this happened, and I was able to rush in and help grab the opening bag in time before it ripped open completely.

"I've got that! Here, let me help," I told her, as she looked at the point of tears.

She grappled with the breaking bag while I took the other one and grabbed for the breaking one, and she got flustered beyond what I thought a breaking bag would create.

"Oh, God!" She began crying. And then looked up at me. "I... um... Thank you. I--" she said again, and began breaking down completely, her tears flowing as she said, "I'm such a stupid old woman."

I set the bag I had down, and took the breading bag out of her hands and set that down. And drew her into my arms to calm her. Luckily for me she was too engrossed in her emotions to reject me from this intimate gesture.

Now that I had her in my arms, she just collapsed into a blubbering mess. I just held her, not really knowing what to do. What she was feeling was just so much more than I thought the situation called for.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as her sobs began to quiet down. "It's just... It's been such a long time since someone has-- Touched me."

Her sense of her desperation struck the lonely nerve in me, and I began crying onto her head in commiseration and shared grief. I kissed her hair, and inhaled the gentle smell of her lilac-scented shampoo.

She began to stiffen in my arms as she looked up at me, at a loss for what to say. She tried to pull away gently, but I kept her held in may arms. It hadn't struck me before the depth of my own loneliness, and I wanted to hold on to this woman and kiss and hold her for more than this fleeing hallway moment.

"I'm Jackson," I told her, beginning to stroke her hair. She began trying to pull away again, but then eased back into my embrace.

After what felt like hours later (and was only probably ten minutes), I eased my arms towards releasing her. She pulled back away from me just enough to look into my eyes. "You're too young for me," she said sadly, and almost accusingly.

"Ten years older is not exactly what I'd call a great distance in age. You're not too old for me."

She smiled crookedly, her pain showing as she sighed. "I'm old enough to be your mother," she whispered. She reached up with her right hand and stroked my jaw, and then she began to cry again breaking away. Her cries turned into sobs.

I pulled her back into my embrace, and held her firmly but gently. My mother? Who old was this woman? Without asking her what that age was, I asked her, "Does age really matter?"

She whimpered softly, and her face began screwing up as if she was going to break down once more. Then she shook her head sadly but forcefully, and began tittering nervously which then became more like a groan. "Oh, if only that were the case. You feel very good.

"I don't know you, but... somehow I feel safe in your arms. It's been so long since I've felt that way, but... I don't know you."

It was my turn to pull back from her, still holding her in our embrace. "Then don't you think that it's time that you let that age thing go?"

I leaned in and kissed her forehead, eliciting another gentle whimper as she reluctantly melted into my arms. I then lifted her chin up, and lightly dusted my lips over hers. This led to a full on kiss, leading to a more passionate one.

After a few minutes, she sighed and began to pull away again. "Maybe we should continue this more privately?"

I nodded my head, and then let her go, reaching down this time for the bag that was by this time almost in shreds. "Which is yours?"

She took the still whole bag and began walking slowly down the hall. After about a hundred yards along, she stopped at a door. Reaching into her jeans pocket for her keys, she turned to look at me again questioningly, but then opened the door and she became shy again.

"Look. Thank you for helping me, but I'm not sure that I'm ready for a man I don't know entering my apartment. Quite frankly it's a mess, and even if I knew you--"

I set the breaking bag down just inside her door, and then took the bag she had and placed in next to the first, and then I reached out and wrapping my arms around her waist, pulled her back into me. I kissed her once again, this time even more passionately, until she began to fight the embrace and back away.

With tears once again forming in her eyes, "I'd love for us to get to know each other more first. Before getting that-- Personal." Wiping away the tears, she began to smile a nervous smile. "You're a handsome man, but--"

"Then let me in and we'll talk. Ok? I promise I won't rape you or do anything that you don't want for me to do. I just want to get to know--" And she lunged at me and through her arms around my neck and reignited our passionate kissing. Pulling me inside the door, she turned to close it, and whimpered once more into the more passionate by the minute kiss.

After a few moments of bliss, she loosened her grip around my neck and slid her hands down until she was caressing my face. Her look was both hesitant as well as smoldering and hungry.

I found myself crying and sighing and pulling her back into my embrace. "God, you're so beautiful," I whispered in her ear. She whimpered once again, sighing and pressing her body into mine.

"I haven't felt this way since my ex-husband--" she began to whisper, and then cut it off. "Help me put my groceries away before we get carried away."

Everything perishable was placed in the fridge, and then I swooped down and picked her light weight body up slinging it into my arms, and said as boldly as I could, "Your bedroom, wench!"

She smiled her first warm smile at me, alternating between sexy and quirky, and raised her left arm pointing with a sexy pout. Biting her bottom lip, I watched as the lines in her face began softening away, and she lost thirty years of her supposedly sixty-something age in a heartbeat.

She giggled as I galloped into the bedroom playfully with us, and threw her on her bed with a bounce. She laughed suddenly, like a whoop. With a smile on my face that I hadn't felt for almost as long, I threw myself down on the bed beside her, both of us bouncing on the bed.

"I thought you said you weren't going to rape me?" she asked playfully, with a sudden fiery pout.

Putting on my best 'pirate' voice, I told her. "I didn't say that I wasn't going to ravish you now, did I?"

"Oh, Jackson," she whispered. "You can ravish me all day if you want to." Her look continued to go back and forth between gleefully smiling and longingly laughingly at the point of tears.

I took my left hand, and gently began caressing her from her forehead down the right side of her face and continuing down her neck, eliciting shivers and sighs tending towards moans. I leaned in and applied another gentle and loving drifting of my lips over hers, to be rewarded with an even deeper shiver, almost as if she had just had an orgasm.

"I'm glad you're so easy to please," I told her with a smile.

Her face screwed up into one of exquisite pleasure missed with pain. "It's been so long," I barely heard her whisper. "I thought I was going to be alone for the rest of my life."

I leaned into her ear and whispered, "Never again," and felt her wrap her right leg over mine, pulling me even closer.

Speaking into my ear with a puff of her breath, "I'm waiting for you to ravish me," she said, and then she pulled back for me to see her tears of joy streaking her face.

As I was thinking of a witty comeback, I leaned down and kissed her lips and moved on to her ear and then kisses down her neck, until I heard and felt another sharp intake of breathe that told me I had found one of her 'spots.'

Licking back up to her ear, I returned to kissing down her throat until I made my way to her delicate collarbone. Pulling the top of her tee shirt down, I continued on kissing down her chest until her right breast was almost there for my taking.

"You could always take off my tee shirt, you know," she laughed with a smirk.

Returning to look her in the eyes from an inch away, "I'm prolonging the pain," I said with a smile, and kissed her gently again. I was again rewarded with a cross between a moan and a whimper.

Pulling myself up and taking first my shirt of and then hers, I took a second to delight in my first sight of small but wonderfully full b sized breasts still embedded in her cotton bra, with her rising pointed nipples calling to my mouth.

"Haven't you seen a woman's tits before?" she asked my playfully.

"I'm 'having a moment' with yours," I said lustfully, and then dived down in a heartbeat and took her left nipple in my mouth and began pulling it through the cloth of her bra. She rose up off the bed with a sharp intake of breath and an "Oh, God!"

I gave her a mischievous grin. "Ah, you liked that, did you lassie?"

"More," she breathed. "Like that."

I 'viscously' attached her right nipple, and then returned my attention to her left one, alternating between the two, until she was seemingly almost permanently arched up off the bed begging for more.

Dropping back and panting hard, her look began to be almost feral in her amorous intensity. "Do that again," she challenged me.

I was now seeing this woman perhaps as she was at twenty, so sexual and sensual. God, I was falling head over heals for this women, and I didn't really even know her. I was also feeling myself harder than I'd ever felt myself having gotten before.

I moved over to be directly on top of her, and began rubbing my erection into her hot and growing hotter crotch. Her legs shot up and wrapped around my waist, and she began rocking me back and forth, our still clothed fires beginning to burn the other one up.

She stopped me in a second, and said hotly and breathing heavily, "Get these damned clothes off of us."

I was more than willing to fulfill her request.

With both of our pants and underwear off, I reached around her and unsnapped her bra, freeing those wonderful little succulent tits, throwing it in the direction of the rest of our clothes.

Once again, I lifted myself up over her to admire her (to me, seemingly) thirty-something body and her still lushly bushy grey pubes.

"Do you really like what you see?" she asked in almost a little girl voice.

"Oh, yeah," I said, and dropped my body on top of hers.

"Inside me. Please? God, I want you inside--"

Rubbing my hard self up and down her slit, she raised her legs to wrap around me again, and I did one more trail up her wet and blazing slit before plunging in.

God, was she wet! I'd always heard that many women when they get to her supposed age, needed help in the 'lubricant' department before a man tried to enter her. But Diana? I slid right inside of her, her small vagina tight but lubricated, all the way in until I was up to the hilt and rubbing on her clit.

"YES!" She roared. "Oh, my God. YES! Faster!"

So I began plunging in and out, claiming this new territory as my lifelong pursuit.

Her breathing became like fire as I sunk myself harder and faster inside of this gorgeous woman. I lost track of my breath, as I felt her body tighten and spring off the bed, rising to meet mine and try to carry us away.

And then, the dam broke. It was like I was riding an earthquake. Spasms. Shakes. Sudden spasms again...

And then we both slowly began relaxing, still breathing heavily but relaxing. "I've never felt anything like that," she panted. Grabbing me by the cheeks, her still lust filled but fulfilled bedroom eyes gazed at me, and then tears began forming again. "That you for bringing me alive again," she whispered to me.

"Thank you for allowing me in," I returned her whisper.

----------------

Looking back now, I am so grateful for that bag having broken in the hallway. And for this special Someone being there to help me pick up all of the broken pieces of my life.

I'm almost ashamed now thinking back on it, how I'd let my life fall apart after I'd retired. And how so unworthy of love I was feeling before Jackson came into my life.

That money I'd socked away for all of my 'retirement cruises' that I never seemed to take? Well, I'm taking those now. With the man I love so deeply, that I almost didn't allow into my life because of how badly I was feeling.

I now know I'm never going to be lonely again. I have my Jackson there as my anchor and my lighthouse. There doesn't feel as if there is any difference between our ages now. He still works, but every second that we have aside from that makes our lives so wonderfully worthwhile, that I can't imagine what my life now would be like without him.

I've even finally agreed to that "till death do us part" part. I hope you can feel how broadly this old broad's smile is radiating!