A Widow's Transformation
Some changes in life are minor and easily accommodated. Others are more profound. Life altering even. The latter happened to me.
One day, I arrived home after having lunch with my friend Jenny to find two police officers standing on my front porch. Their dour expressions told me something was amiss. Had one of our sons shoplifted? Or been in a fight? Whatever, they weren’t here bearing good news. “Can I help you?” I asked, stepping out of my car.
“Perhaps we should go inside—where you can sit?” one answered.
How bad was this news? “No! Tell me now! What is it?”
When he did, the second officer caught me as my knees gave out. My husband, Tom, had suffered a heart attack at work and died on the way to the hospital. That quickly, I’d become a widow. Alone now, with the responsibility of raising two teenage sons.
It wasn’t as if twenty years of marriage to Tom had been ideal. We’d married immediately after graduating from high school, before either of our nineteenth birthdays. In those days, girls married right out of school for one of two reasons. One, they thought themselves madly in love. Or two, they were eager to enjoy sex without risking an out-of-wedlock pregnancy. I fell into the latter group.
I wasn’t a virgin at the altar. Tom was the only man I ever slept with. He had old-fashioned virtues, which impressed me. But during our many make out sessions, our more animalistic instincts came to the fore, prompting us to promise one another we’d control our baser instincts until we married. But alas, hormones took their toll, and my promised virginity ended the night he proposed to me. Although it wasn’t the experience I’d hoped for, from that point on, sex on dates became the norm.
Unfortunately, by the time we finally married, sex was becoming old hat, making me fear Tom had grown bored with me. Our romantic couplings became less and less frequent.
Two sons arrived within the first three years of getting married. My life had become my mother’s. I tended to our two children, our home, and on those rare occasions I found him in the mood, my husband's desires.
The spark was gone after two decades of marriage. Our sex life became dull. Still, those were happy years, even if not as exciting as I had once dreamed it would be. But my inner desires still percolated, hungering for something wilder. More dangerous. It’s not that I didn’t love my husband. I feared that, like most couples our age, we remained together for no other reason than to raise our children.
During those years, I often suspected Tom of having affairs. He always denied them, of course. I once came close to having one myself, but fearing the resulting guilt would haunt me for the rest of my days, I resisted the temptation.
But as an ignored woman, I was constantly horny. So much so that often as not, each day after Tom left for work, I’d play with myself to satisfy my needs. I shared my plight with Jenny, who suggested I buy myself a vibrator. She had and loved it. Ignoring my mother’s caution to not to turn into a woman of low moral character, I made use of it often.
When Tom passed, I’d become a thirty-five-year-old widow.
In the year that followed, I did my best to rebuild my life. I redid my appearance and wardrobe and even made a few new friends. It would have been a good life, save for my ever-present sexual frustration. I kept asking myself how a woman could remain respectable and deal with her sexual demons at the same time? Tom may not have been the world’s greatest lover, but right now, even boring sex sounded wonderful.
At Tom’s funeral, his lifelong friend Alan promised he’d look after me. True to his word, he willingly stopped by whenever I called, asking that something fixed around the house.
One day, while my sons were away at summer camp, a new salesperson called upon us at work. He and I hit it off so well that he invited me out for an after-hours drink. Upon learning I’d ridden a bus that day, he offered to take me home.
Nothing came of it. But later, while soaking in the bathtub, my horny mind fantasized otherwise. Masturbating, I envisioned him tearing off my clothes; throwing me onto my couch; and ravaging me, despite my begging him to not do this. The resulting orgasm was the most powerful I’d had in weeks.
I was drying off afterwards when I heard a door open. Dread washed over me. I froze in place, my gaze fixated on my reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was then I heard a familiar voice asking me if I was home. It was Alan, there to fix the squeaky back door I’d told him about. Relieved it wasn’t some stranger here to defile me, or worse, I slipped on my robe and went to show him the misbehaving door.
Alan was Tim’s opposite, different from his late friend in every way imaginable. He’d never married, preferring the freedom of a bachelor’s life. As I walked into the kitchen, his eyes roamed my barely covered body. “Now stop that,” I scolded, giggling at his reaction to seeing me wearing only a robe.
Then, out of the blue, he asked, “Are you dating yet?”
“Alas, I have no suitors.”
He shook his head. “You’d have plenty of them hanging around if you’d ever let your hair down.” He opened and closed the offending door. Predictably, it squeaked. “Bring me some shortening and a butter knife, and I’ll have this thing fixed in a jiffy.”
Returning with the requested items, I sat in a nearby chair. I crossed my legs, being careful not to let my robe ride too high up my thighs. “So?” I asked. “You say if I’d ‘let my hair down’ and I’d have suitors? How do I go about doing that?”
He spread shortening over the hinge. Sure enough, the squeak was gone. Smiling, he looked my way. “You need to be more daring. Do things that are out of your normal comfort zone.” He winked. “If you know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t know what you mean,” I snapped, offended by his innuendo. “I’ll not become ‘easy,’ if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
Alan laughed. “I sure would if I’d gone a whole year without sex. I’d be on the verge of going crazy.”
By crazy, does he mean thinking of nothing but sex all the time? Taking a deep breath, she said, “I’ll admit, it hasn’t been easy. I mean, I am a woman with needs like everyone else.” She could hardly believe she was sitting here discussing her sex life with a man. Alan and she never talked about sex. And all my mother ever said about it was to preach at me about it.
Laughing, Alan said he couldn’t imagine a week going by without getting laid, much less a year. His expression suddenly changed, and his eyes flitted downward. Gods! My robe had slipped open, showing off her my cleavage. I grabbed the fabric, but before I could close it, Alan said, “No! Don’t! Leave your robe as it is.”
“What did you say?” I squawked, hardly believing he’d say such a thing.
“You heard me. In fact, open it all the way and show them to me. The time has come for you to act more daring.”
No man had ever spoken to me like that. I found it offensive. But then, why was my heart pounding so? “It's time for you to leave.”
Ignoring me, he leaned against my counter and crossed his arms. “Be honest, honey. Your panties are getting wet just talking about it. Tell you what. Show me your tits, and I promise I’ll leave.”
“Come on Alan. This is stupid,” I said as the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood tall. This unexpected turn of events was the closest thing to a sexual encounter since Tom’s passing. It was having a surprising effect on me. Having always prided myself on being the good girl growing up. Yet here I was, standing in my kitchen, being told to show a man my breasts. “You need to go,” I repeated.
Again, he refused.
My nerves tightened as my lust mounted. “This is completely stupid,” I said, my heart pounding as I realized I was actually contemplating doing what he asked. “If I do this, you have to promise to never tell a soul.”
“I promise,” he said, grinning. “It will be our little secret.”
Looking back on that moment, I remember standing up, hardly believing I was about to expose myself to this man.
“No quick flash now,” he urged. “I want to take my time when you show them to me,” Alan said, smiling from ear to ear.
The little voice in the back of my head kept screaming for me to stop. But the blast of hormones surging within me paid no heed. Too embarrassed to look him in the eyes, I looked off to one side and opened my robe, fearing my heart might burst open at any moment. I’d never done anything even half this racy before. My body trembled as they came into view, the cool air hardening my already swollen nipples. Holding my robe open, I looked continued looking away, letting those hungry eyes of his gaze feast upon them, my pussy getting wetter and wetter knowing that was precisely what he was doing.
“Fuck honey. That’s one fine pair of melons you have on you. Alan was one lucky fellow.”
I should have found such coarse language offensive. Instead, it aroused me in ways I would never have imagined. Did I have some long-suppressed whore within me I never knew existed, or was it simply a case of having gone so long without sex?
I stood there for what must have been a full minute with my breasts shamelessly exposed for him.
“Thank you, my dear,” he finally said. “Here’s hoping you’ve just taken a great first step toward gaining those suitors you wanted.”
I covered myself, albeit shaking all the way down to my toes. “I can’t believe I just showed you my breasts.” My eyes flitted down to the bulge in his crotch. My little peep show had gotten him hard. “Please don’t ever tell anyone I did this.”
Winking, he turned and headed out the door.
I locked the door behind him, chastising myself over what I’d just done, yet fearing I might pass out. My guilt was short-lived, however, as lust quickly swept it away. I’d just shown a man my tits, and despite knowing how wrong it was, it had thrilled me to no end. Was knowing how wrong it was what made it so thrilling?
I rushed to my bedroom, and standing in front of my mirror, opened my robe, curious to see what had Alan seen. My areolas had always been large and dark, but never had my nipples pointed outward like a pair of frozen ice cycles begging for attention the way they were now.
As I stared at my reflection, realization struck me. Maybe Alan was right about loosening up a bit. After all, I was an unattached woman, free to do whatever I pleased. All that was required was courage.
My hands briefly roamed those swollen nubs before sliding inside my panties to touch what my oh so swollen pussy lips. Slipping off my panties, I slowly backed toward my bed, my eyes never leaving the mirror. Crooking my neck so I could still see my reflection, I lay back and spread my thighs, drawing my heels up to the point they pressed against my ass. I watched as I stroked myself. It took mere seconds before I exploded, the intensity of my orgasm rocking my world. For the first-time in oh so long, sex felt as wonderful as I always imagined it should be.
After I calmed down, I reflected on how Alan had coaxed me into such naughty behavior. How he’d pushed me toward indiscretion. There was no denying it had been thrilling. Perhaps it was because I knew and trusted him—that I felt safe with him.
I was in a panic for the next week, fearing he might call me, yet dreading he would not. I tried to convince myself to remain respectful, but deep down knew I was only fooling myself. All I could think about was how arousing it had been to expose myself to him. Truth was, I wanted to experience that feeling again. I finally worked up the nerve to call him. “Could you come by again? My kitchen faucet needs fixing. It keeps dripping.”
Alan said nothing. I stood there shaking like a leaf. After a seeming eternity passed without a response, I asked, “Are you still there?”
“Bra and panties,” he answered in his low masculine voice.
“What did you say?” I asked, my legs quaking.
“I’ll come and fix your faucet, but only if you greet me at the door wearing only bra and panties.”
I held the phone to my ear, unable to speak for several seconds. Finally, I managed, “I can be home from work by six on Tuesday …if that works for you,” I said, my shaking voice little more than a whisper.
“I’ll see you then,” he said, and hung up.
I sat on a kitchen chair and almost broke into tears as a mix of fear, frustration, and desire swirled in my head. Was I sinking too low? Too fast? Was I breaking some rule respectable women do not? I picked up the phone, ready to call him back and tell him I couldn’t go through with it. But I hung up without making the call. Instead, I returned to my bed, and picturing myself answering the door so skimpily dressed, rubbed my vibrator along my pussy until it gushed, amazed at how quickly I got off.
I had two days to battle my better judgment before Alan was due to arrive, expecting me to greet him at the door wearing only bra and panties. When Tuesday rolled around, I was too upset—or excited, to go into work. Instead, I called in sick so I could spend all day at home, working up the courage I’d need. I showered and fussed with my hair and makeup until right before six. I put on my sexiest lacy black bra and matching thong. I could feel myself leaking already.
With my husband, sex had been predictable and safe. That was all I’d been taught. Suddenly, I was alone, on my own trying to figure things out. Alan was much bolder with matters of sex than Tom had ever been. I no longer felt safe in his presence. Was that what made it so exciting? I had never used my body as a toy, yet that is what I was being asked to do if, indeed, I answered my door wearing only my bra and panties. Closing all my blinds, I paced the floor in bra and panties, telling myself over and over I would be ok.
And when he didn’t arrive at six, I grew angry, and even more anxious. I was sitting at the table shaking when Alan knocked at my door a full thirty minutes late. My heart rate doubled as I unlocked it. Backing away, I braced myself against the back of a nearby chair and opened the door.
He walked in, and stopping, stared at my body. It was as if he was inspecting some item he was about to purchase off a shelf. Without a word, he motioned for me to sit—so we could talk. My breasts felt like they weighed a ton hanging in my sheer lacy bra bouncing in front of him.
My first thought was he was not interested in what he had seen. Until he said, “Your body is terrific, but your mind needs to learn to loosen up if we’re to have any fun.” There. He’d said it. He was here to have fun, not fix my faucet. “I’m not Tom. Nor am I looking for a wife or girlfriend,” he explained.
I tried to grasp what he was telling me. “So, what exactly comprises having fun?” I asked.
Alan smiled, then walked over to examine my faucet. “It needs a new ringer. I’ll have to go get one and come back tomorrow,” he said, shutting off the water. He turned, facing me. “You asked me how you could find men who might want to spend some time with you. I’m willing to show you how as long as you don’t get cold feet. In other words, you need to learn to enjoy sex without so many hangups and reservations.”
“All I can do is try,” I bravely replied. By now, the mountain of sexual energy surging through me had my panties clinging to my crack. “Are you leaving?” I asked as he got back to his feet.
He stared at my body, my crotch moistening under his lusty gaze. “No. I thought I might stay a bit longer, if that’s ok with you?”
Pretty sure of what he had in mind was scaring me to death. Still, I knew I didn’t want him to leave. I had spent a year’s worth of boring nights over the past year, and this was the first time I’d felt this alive in a long, long time. Smiling, I nodded yes.
“Then take off your bra.”
My eyes watered. “Just like that. You tell me to take off my bra and I am supposed to do it?” I asked, shocked and embarrassed.
A frown was his only answer.
Determined to prove to him I was up for the challenge, I reached behind me and undid its clasp. Shaking, I held my bra over my breast for a few terrifying seconds before letting it fall to the floor, struggling to breathe. Those feelings I’d experienced when I’d done this for him before came rushing back with a vengeance.
He smiled and pointed to my panties.
Despite the little voice in my head screaming for me to stop, my fingers slid inside my waistband on either side. Leaning against the wall for support, I slid my thong down my legs as slowly and sexily as I could. They dropped to the floor. Bending down, I slipped them off my feet and stood back up. Standing naked in front of him, I parted my thighs, exposing my vagina to a man for the first time in a very long time. As he approached me, I said, “Alan. I’m scared.”
My words had no effect on him as he stepped so close the aroma of his cologne filled my nostrils. Looking down, I watched his fingertips trace a circle around first one nipple, then the other. I feared my legs would give out. He then slid a hand down and over my belly button, into the tuft of my pussy.
“Oh god,” I said, watching his finger move toward my womanhood. I closed my eyes the instant his fingertips found my swollen outer lips. “It’s been so long since anyone touched me there,” I whispered as his fingers began to probe. In no time, juices were running down the inside of my thighs.
He led me to the table and had me lie on my back. He pulled my legs apart. “Can’t we make love in the bedroom?” I pleaded as his fingers pushed back inside of me.
“Who said anything about making love?” he said. “We’re going to fuck, plain and simple.”
This was nothing like the sex I was used to. All my life, I thought love and sex went hand in hand. Those rules were about to get tossed out the window.
He removed his finger and lowered his mouth. The moment that sweet tongue touched my pussy lips, I melted. It had been so very long since I’d felt such pleasure. My body began to spasm. The mounting pressure quickly became too much. I cried out as the dam burst. My juices flowed out of me like some raging river, drenching his mouth.
When I finally finished, Alan removed his jeans and sat in a chair. “Get up,” he ordered.
I stood; my mind lost in a lustful fog. I gazed down at his swollen organ, watching it throb, feeling far more lust than any respectable woman ought to.
Before I could give thought to what I was doing, I was on my knees with his hard, hot, swollen cock stuffed down my throat, sucking on it like a madwoman. He held my head in place, guiding me, offering verbal instructions as to how best to please him. I obeyed his every demand. The taste of his salty pre-cum made me suck his shaft even harder, eager to experience the feel of a cock exploding in my mouth after so many long months.
Apparently having other ideas, he pulled me up to his lap, forcing my trembling legs to straddle him. I had been worried about this moment ever since my husband had died. Now that it was happening, those worries vanished. I held my breath as I lowered myself onto him. His hot poker touched my wet lips. The hardness of his cock felt amazing as I savored its every inch. My inner muscles gave way easier than I thought. Surprising in that it had been over a year since it last had a visitor.
“You’re doing fine,” Alan encouraged when his cock was halfway in me.
“God! I forgot how good this feels,” I replied, trying my best to be the sexual creature he expected of me. His hard shaft made its way up inside of me to the point I felt his full sack press against my ass. He was fully inside of me, without any pretense of love. It felt perfect. Truth be told, I wasn’t seeking love. What I needed was a good, hard fuck.
I ground myself onto his shaft, coating it with my juices. It was unbelievable to have a man inside of me again, bring the woman in me back to life. I was completely and unabashedly his.
He held a tit in either hand as I humped up and down on his fat cock without regard for my dignity. “My friend is going to love these big tits.”
Friend? What friend? “Let’s hope he does,” I said, for lack of a better response.
I felt his cock stiffen as it slipped deeper inside my vagina. “Fuck me, baby,” I whispered. “It’s been so-o long.”
He held me by the waist, pushing me up and down on his erect penis. Faster. And faster. Finally, I felt it expand and pulsate, then unload his cum inside my hungry pussy. “That’s it, baby,” I moaned. “Give me what I’ve been missing,” I blathered, watching his face crunch up as he expelled his masculine load deep inside of me.
After he’d finished, my quaking legs were too weak to stand. I sat there on his lap with wrapped my arms around his neck, trembling. I didn’t want to abandon that sweet cock of his. I needed to feel it throbbing inside of me for a while longer. “May I kiss you?” I asked once a little of my senses returned to earth.
Smiling, he nodded.
It seemed odd that here we were, sharing our first kiss moments after our first fuck. But that’s what we did. Everything was backwards, yet I couldn’t have cared less. “Thank you,” I said as I climbed off him. Grabbing a napkin from off the counter, I tossed one to him, then rushed to the bathroom to clean myself up.
I shut the door behind me, trying to catch my breath, struggling to accept what I’d just done, despite the physical evidence dripping down my inner thighs. True to Alan’s word, we’d shared sex for the sake of pleasure, and nothing else. Maybe it wasn’t such a terrible thing after all.
Once presentable, I put on my robe and returned to the kitchen with a hop in my step. Alan was sitting at the table drinking a beer. I grabbed one and joined him. “That was—you were—terrific. You’re not going to tell anyone what we did, are you?” I said, unable to wipe the smile from my face.
“Of course not. You should know that you are a great fuck,” he said, making me feel like a woman again after too much time of feeling otherwise.
We drank our beers and chatted for a short time. I kept waiting for Alan to mention he wanted to come see me again. Fearing I might have one and only one chance, I dug up my courage and asked, “So, are we going to do this again sometime?”
Alan laughed. Being evasive, asked me if I had ever been fucked in a kitchen before. I shook my head no, telling him that, up to now, I’d lived a very sheltered sex life.
He reminded me again that he was not looking for a relationship other than a sexual one. I concurred, telling him that worked for me, too. “Be ready for me tomorrow night when I bring you that washer.” His comment caused me to beam. “Want to try a threesome sometime?” he asked out of the blue.
Shocked, I asked, “You mean two women and you or two men and me?”
“I have this friend, Ron. He and I do some threesomes every so often. I think you might like him, given he’s hung like a horse.”
As frightening as that thought was, I feared that if I hesitated, Alan might decide I was a waste of his time. Holding myself together as best I could, trembling inside and scared to death, I said, “I guess I’d be willing to give it a try.”
Alan and I sat at the table for the better part of an hour, leaving me to wonder what direction our relationship was heading. And if I truly wanted to go in whatever direction that might be. My choices were limited, or so it seemed. I could revert to being a lonely widow with no sex life, or go with Alan’s idea of spreading my wings, which likely meant spreading my thighs as well. Doing so was going against everything I’d been taught about being a lady.
That night I slept the best I had slept in over a year. Oversleeping, I was late getting to work.
Once my shift was over, I headed to the mall and shopped in a lingerie shop for some new, sexier bras and panties. I found a mini-skirt and a sexy matching top; one I’d never have worn in front of Tom. If I was going to embark on a new path in life, I needed to dress the part. Alan fucked me in my bed the next night, then disappeared for over a week. I felt used. Still, I kept telling myself he was not my boyfriend, and I should give him his space and wait it out.
When Alan called a week later, we laughed as we recalled what had happened on Tuesday night in my kitchen. “You are indeed a naughty boy,” I said to him as my way of teasing him.
“Well, that may be true, but you seemed to be enjoying yourself,” he joked back. My mind kept recalling glimpses of images of our fuck and how intense and wonderful it truly was. “I spoke with my friend Ron today,” Alan said at one point.
My body stiffened. “I see. And what did you talk about?” I asked. Despite knowing damned well what they talked about, I wanted to make him say it to me again.
“Getting cold feet?” he asked and went silent.
“Sort of. But I’m also not saying no,” I said, half hoping he would say he had changed his mind about the threesome idea, yet fearing he would.
The following week was pure hell as I crossed off the day’s counting down to Saturday when Alan and his friend Ron were coming over. I kept asking myself how I had gone from a boring housewife to a woman about to have sex with a relative and a man she had never even met. But once Saturday arrived and there was nothing I could do about it except call and cancel out. Of course, if I did that, my special times with Alan would be over as well.
I showered, put on a skimpy red bra with matching panties before slipping into my new mini skirt and sexy top. I was scared to death, yet so aroused I was losing control with each passing minute. I sipped a glass of wine to help calm my nerves as the minutes raced towards nine p.m., the time my guests would arrive.
And at nine o’clock sharp, I heard a knock at my door. Standing to answer the door, I almost tripped walking in my hour inch heels I had on. I opened the door and saw Alan smiling. He kissed me on my cheek and stepped past me, giving me my first view of his friend Ron. He was a large man, well built and handsome, especially when he smiled. Looking me over, he greeted me with a pleasant hello.
I said hello back to him, then walked to my kitchen to fix us all drinks. I remember asking myself how in the world could I have given such a casual hello to a man with plans to fuck me before the night was out. “She’s nervous, but she’ll settle down,” Alan told Ron as I mixed the drinks. I heard Ron say I had big tits and a great ass. They were discussing my body as if I weren’t even there. It sent a tingle through my crotch.
I brought them their drinks, and we went into the living room. Alan sat in a chair, Ron on the couch. I was too nervous to sit. I began to panic. This whole idea was insane. Somehow, I had to figure out how to get myself out of this threesome.
“Why don’t you go sit next to Ron on the sofa,” Alan said, sensing I was getting cold feet.
Not knowing why, I obediently walked to the sofa and sat next to Ron as asked. It felt odd. The longer we sat chatting, the more I relaxed, albeit nowhere close to going through with this threesome idea. Ten minutes or so had passed when Alan joined us on the couch, sandwiching me between the two of them. Looking up at them made me feel like a small, helpless child. One at their mercy.
Alan rested his hand on my thigh, just above my knee. I tensed, but didn’t push it away. “We’re going to take things really slow,” he assured me, rubbing his hand along my bare flesh. I looked down, watching his hand disappear under my skirt. Within seconds, he was rubbing the outside of my new panties, causing my pussy to gush.
I stared straight ahead, avoiding looking at either of them. Soon, I felt Ron’s hand on my other thigh, causing me to tremble. They leaned me back on the sofa, pulled my skirt up, and removed my panties. I simply sat there, offering no resistance. Soon, their hands were playing with my pussy. Being touched by two men at the same time felt incredible. It was overpowering. I had never felt anything so intense.
Alan opened his pants and pulled my hand to his cock. As I wrapped my fingers around it, I heard Ron doing the same. Alan was right. He was hung. Seconds later, I was pumping my hands up and down their cocks. What was abundantly obvious to all three of us was that I was theirs.
Warm hands began massaging my warm breasts. My body withered beneath this fresh assault. I could neither control my reactions nor hide them as they opened my blouse. It took mere minutes of them playing with my now naked boobs to have me wanting them to get on with things.
Sensing as much, they ushered me to my bedroom where they removed my blouse and skirt. Ron suckled each nipple. I quivered beneath him, moaning my appreciation. Alan got naked and climbed onto my bed. Pulling my legs apart, he started licking my needy pussy while Ron concentrated on my nipples.
Finally, Alan lifted away, asking, “Which of us gets to fuck her first?”
Rolling me onto my back, Ron said, “I do,” giving me the sort of look a man gives to a woman whose he’s about to consume.
“Don’t hurt me,” I begged, watching him press his oversized cock between my pussy lips. My mind flashed back to the fantasy I’d had about my salesman. In it, I was ravaged by a total stranger. It was now about to happen for real. A man I’d known for less than an hour was preparing to fuck me. To my astonishment, I could hardly wait for it to happen.
“She’s a little tight, but she’ll be able to handle you,” Alan said, watching me struggle to accommodate Ron’s big shaft.
My world went blank as that his monstrous cudgel eased up inside of me. It was easily the largest I’d ever taken on. But then, my lifetime sampling amounted to only three. “Do it Ronnie,” I whispered. “Put it in and fuck me,” I shamelessly begged.
He did. Fast and hard. Suddenly, his shaft expanded, pressing against the inner walls of my pussy. He was about to cum. Alan said something I couldn’t comprehend. I was too busy focusing on Ronnie’s approaching orgasm. He rammed his cock into me at breakneck speed, assailing my womanhood. Then, with a grunt reminiscent of a lion taking a lioness somewhere in the jungle might make, this total stranger’s cock exploded inside of me, spewing spurt after spurt of his tawdry inside of me, triggering what would be the first of many orgasms I’d experience that day.
Finished, he climbed off me, and Alan replaced him, the second man to fuck me this day. How far had I fallen?
That answer came when I felt Ronnie’s cock pressing into my nether hole. “No!” I begged. “Not that.”
Ignoring my plea, he pressed up into me. Painful at first, it quickly gave way to the sensation of having two cocks inside of me at the same time.
What they did to me after that remains a blur. A marvelous blur.
Eventually, sated, they climbed off the bed. I raced for the bathroom, cum dripping down my leg. Sitting on the toilet, I let their collective seed drain out of me. Having cleansed myself, I showered, threw on a robe, and went to find the men.
I found the conquering heroes in the living room, drinking beer, congratulating each other on a job well done. Seeing me enter the room, they stood, applauding me as if I had won some sort of prize. “You two are terrible. But thanks for the experience, just the same.”
After a beer or two, they go ready to leave. Moving up beside Alan, I asked if he’d be interested in hooking up with my friend Jenny and me, telling him the two of them were like-minded. A smile from him, and a call to Jenny, set the date the three of us would hook up for my second ever threesome.
Getting to know Alan and his friends enriched my life immensely, transforming this frumpy, widowed housewife into a woman ready and willing to live her life at its fullest.
19 comments
Great Story!
Wow-can't wait for the next chapter
Excellent writing and hope for more!
Very hot sexy way of telling your story. Makes me wish of finding a widow who wants to get back on the sex trail
Too long.
Looking forward to the tryst with Jenny….
Wonderful transformation!
Wish i was there to fuck you too
A super hot sexy story and hope you write about your fmf threesome and more a job well done
Very good, I'd love to read more!
Fantastic story! Would so love to find a widow or widower with such needs!! Hope you'll be posting more stories!!!
Excellent story keep them cumming
Fabulous my dear. Can't wait to hear the next chapter.