19 Sep 2015

I have had two happy marriages and been widowed twice. I am comfortably off, no financial worries , and now live in a coastal town which suits me perfectly. In order to fill my time I volunteer three days a week in a busy charity shop. My closest friend at the shop is Martine, who entertains me evry time we are together with her tales of her on-going search for the super-lover . She is twice divorced, already. I know she has a date almost every evening, and I think most of them get to enjoy her favours. She never tells me about the successes, but readily recounts the failings of the others.

A new addition to the team at the shop is Harry, a retired man, who does not look his age. He has a rather bohemian style about him , as if he were an artist. He rarely joins in the conversation, and when he does speak it is usually self mocking humour. We all like him.

One day Martine asked me if I fancied meeting any new men ( she probably has a very long list ). I said no, I have had two happy marriages, and I doubt I would be lucky a third time.

Surprisingly Harry, who was nearby, commented that he disagreed. He said " you have had two happy marriages because you made two men happy, and you would do the same for a third." He then went off into the sorting room upstairs.

Martine said she thought he was right. But the conversation did not continue as a flurry of customers came into the shop.

I could not get Harry's words out of my mind. Had I really made my husbands that happy ?

That night I had a very hot dream, not something that happens often. I dreamt that one after the other men I knew were making love to me, each one bringing me to orgasm then filling me with their cum. I did not know all their faces, my two husbands as I like to remember them yes, and each more than once. And finally, Harry, kissing me just as I like, giving me orgasm after orgasm. I woke from the dream, my panties soaked, a wet patch on the bed. I could not resist, I pushed my panties down and started to play with my clitoris, bringing myself off again and again. Finally satisfied , and after a rest , I went to the toilet, changed out of my wet nightdress and pants and slept soundly.

The next day at the shop went as usual, Martine recounting last night's exploits, Harry keeping himself to himself. At closing time it is my responsability to cash up and lock up , so I left after the others. As I walked homeward I saw Harry sitting on the terrace of the coffee shop, reading a book. I went in and got myself a latte, and carried it out to the terrace.

I asked Harry if I could share his table, as all the others were taken.

He put his book away. For once, conversation with him was easy. I learned he had only recently moved to the town, having sold his house in London. He lived alone, he was a widower , read a lot, liked concerts, theatre and cooking. It turned out we lived in the same part of town, so we agreed to walk home together. We arrived at his road first. He pointed to his house and I knew it instantly. It was a delightful cottage that had gradually deteriorated over years of neglect. Harry asked if I wanted to see how he had restored it.

The interior of the house was much like Harry himself, bohemian, arty, understated but neat. The surprise was the garden, a mass of colour around a paved centre patio, a tranquil waterfall feature, a pergola covered with roses. Harry invited me to sit at the table, and offered me a glass of wine, which I was delighted to accept. He went off into the house.

He came back a few minutes later carrying a tray on which were two glasses of white wine and a small selection of olives, cheese and cherry tomatoes. Harry smelt of minty toothpaste and soap. I was flattered to think he had done that for me.

We chatted more, the wine was delicious and time went easily. I could not help thinking about what Harry had said, about my dream last night and that what a nice man he is. But mostly about my dream.

Harry asked if I would like to stay for dinner , that we could eat outside in the garden.

My emotions , and desires, got the better of me. I said yes Harry I would like to stay for dinner, but please, first, will you take me to your bed and make love to me. As soon as I said it I was filled with dread that he would refuse me, think bad of me. Instead he took my hand and led me indoors, up stairs to his bedroom. He kissed me tenderly and gently, unzipped my dress and let it fall to the floor. He kissed my neck and shoulders as he removed my bra. He kissed my nipples as he pushed my panties down. He laid me on the bed, I watched as he undressed. saw his penis already enlarged. He came to me, kissed me more intimately, his hands caressing my body . His lips went from my nipples down to my stomach, then down to my inner thighs. The first touch of his tongue in my vulva was enough to make me groan with pleasure. His touch was so sensual , I could feel myself about to cum, just as in my dream. His tongue was licking on my clitoris, his hands squeezing my breasts softly. I felt myself pushing myself onto his tongue, egging him to continue. Don't stop, please don't stop.

I was gone, into a wave of orgasms. His fingers took over from his tongue, giving me another, different orgasm. Then he was laying on top of me, his erection sliding into me so easily. I had missed this feeling so much, I enjoy this so much. His thrusts were strong but gentle, his face so close to mine, his fingers in my hair. I exploded into another orgasm as I heard him moan and felt his erection pumping inside me.

He had rolled off me, was lying by my side, his fingers playing in my vagina, spreading our fluids across my clitoris. I had his penis in my hand, my thumb spreading his last emissions across his tip. His touch was bringing me to another orgasm, his fingers playing harder, on me and in me. I had another orgasm, then Harry was on me again, his new erection deep inside me. He was more forceful this time , more energetic, more demanding. I lifted my legs to let him in deeper, he held my legs in the air and drove into me. My orgasm was overwhelming. I felt his cum flowing into me , just as in my dream.

The dinner Harry prepared was wonderful, but I was already a woman in ecstasy. I told him about my dream, and about my husbands and the very few other lovers I had been with. He told me about his life, his wife, his sorrows. We cleared the table together, stacked the dished in the dishwasher, kissed, touched, the went back to his bedroom.

The lovemaking was tender, slow, sensuous , even erotic. He did not rush, he took his time, aroused me, then took me. Then he aroused me again, explored me, and pleasured me until I was utterly satisfied. I slept in his arms, feeling loved and protected. Morning brought me coffee in bed and another couple of orgasms.

The next day in the shop Harry was the soul of discretion, giving Martine no clue as to our getting together. She of course gave chapter and verse on her night's inadequacies. Harry was working alone in the sorting room. I left Martine to look afetr the shop and went up to see Harry. He kissed me and squeezed my bum. Then I did what I had always done to my husbands, given them their daily reward. His belt unbuckled easily, his trouser button also, his zip slid down, then his trousers and pants. His hardening penis was in my mouth as I played with his balls, then ran my hand up and down his shaft . I teased him , licked him, sucked him, almost swallowed his entire length, then wanked him until he came into my palm.

I went back down to the shop floor, leaving my man smiling and content.....until later.