My New Woman

September 2013

I am a relatively odd person by today's standards. The fact I've only had sex with one woman, got married and had a baby right before I was 21 would have made me a poster child in the 1950's. Of course, this is a poster child that lost his wife in a car crash 19 years later.

Now it's been two years since she was gone, and my son just went back on the road to college. With nothing to do and with no one to talk to, I got the impulse to buy the earliest train tickets to New York the next morning.

Going there was a favorite pastime for me and my son, especially after my wife....left. But we couldn't afford a full vacation there this summer. However, just a day out to go through Times Square, have a night on the town and then come back home would do me good. At least that's what I told myself as I sank my money into this impulse buy.

I got to New York early the next afternoon, soon finding myself among the masses at Times Square. With no hotel to stay at, and no sports game or Broadway show for later like in my usual trips here, I soon realize I should have set a schedule. Otherwise I'd be wandering around like an idiot all day long.

So I wandered until I thought of something better to do. I looked around at the buildings, theaters and giant billboards, until I looked at the people nearby. One of them catches my eye.

It almost looked like....someone who'd caught the eyes of millions. Including mine already. But it couldn't be. I couldn't be that bored to imagine this, and it was too late in the summer for heat stroke....

I ran up to the figure, got a closer look and realized I'm not imagining things. I did wish I'd imagined myself gasping loud enough for her to hear me, though. Or that I imagined myself covering my mouth right as she turned to see me.

Like I said, I'm an odd duck. Perhaps it would be normal for a 21-year-old, boy or girl, to have that kind of reaction in front of Jennifer Lawrence. For a 41-year-old man, doing it....bordered on the creepy at best. But that's where I found myself.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, figuring I was bringing unwanted attention on her. "I'll get out of your way before they notice."

"No, no, it's...it's cool," Jennifer actually laughed off. "I would have worn the usual hat and sunglasses if I was hiding, right?"

Indeed, she wasn't covering up her face or trying to be anonymous. If anything, her blue pants and blue tank top were even more attention grabbing. "But you're the one who found me out and spoke up about it."

"Yeah. Not who you expected, huh?" I mentioned. "And that's before you knew I watched and loved The Hunger Games with my son, can't wait for Catching Fire and live in Philadelphia. Silver Linings Playbook, Eagles country and all."

"Well....I know now," Jennifer still looked amused. "And that's before you knew I'm hanging out here before I start filming Mockingjay tomorrow. Weird world."

"Weird world," I agreed wholeheartedly.

Jennifer still had long blond hair, so she wasn't in her darker Katniss locks just yet – or in her Silver Linings Playbook hairstyle. But I was probably weird enough without pointing that out. Let alone pointing out that my son and I shared not only Hunger Games fandom, but....the same kind of crush on its star.

I may have been with only one woman in my life, but I wasn't dead. Not in my fantasies, anyway. And Times Square wasn't the ideal place for those fantasies now.

"Well, might as well get proof of it," I commented, getting out my phone before I caught myself. "I mean, if I haven't bugged you enough."

"I got way too much time on my hands before I go end a blockbuster trilogy. I'll kill it any way I can get," Jennifer joked. Taking that as a go ahead, I got the phone ready and lifted it up in front of us, hoping I got us both in frame.

"Hey, didn't you say you had a son? Maybe he could make this easier on you," she offered.

"He would if he could," I said – he really would kill for this kind of chance. "But he's in college."

"Ah," Jennifer noted, then looked down at my hand. "Is your wife a college gal too?" I was confused until I remembered my wedding ring was still on. One of the few times I had forgotten about it, really.

"She might be if she could," I sighed. "If they have college in heaven, maybe."

"Oh, then....oh," Jennifer quieted down. "Well, I'm world famous for putting my foot in my mouth. But that was a two-footer." She stammered again and corrected, "Sorry, I'm not trying to make jokes about this!"

"That's fine, I know. You didn't accuse me of lying to get in your pants. So it could have been worse," I found myself saying. Usually reminders like this would have gotten me more upset. At least too upset to make jokes right back.

"I guess I was saving that one," Jennifer replied. "Okay, well....I do owe you a picture anyway." So we got back into position and I snapped it, and she stuck around to see it came out just fine.

"Sorry again," Jennifer repeated. "I know I have no filter."

"There are worse things not to have," I answered. "They get a little easier over time. Other times they make you need a little vacation. And look how it ends up."

"With someone who needed a vacation before leading a fake revolution. Go figure," Jennifer said.

"So the revolution starts in Part 1?" I asked. "Or in Catching Fire? I haven't read the books yet, so...."

At that point it was getting weird, and inconspicuous, to just stand around in Times Square with Jennifer Lawrence this long. So we went on to do walking and talking, as Jennifer got more proof that a 41-year-old widower with a college-aged son could love a Young Adult movie. I wasn't as rare and odd as someone like that who loved Twilight, but it got Jennifer's attention.

So did the added stuff about me being a Philadelphian and a sports nut – not to the extent of the Silver Linings Playbook characters, however.

Otherwise, Jennifer was the real chatterbox, as befitting her reputation. She even blabbed that at the rate she was changing and dying her hair for the Hunger Games, she'd have to chop it off. To my credit, it was one of the many things I kept quiet about a few months later when she did.

For this moment, the blond, long haired Jennifer still allowed me to be her sounding board, as we walked out of Times Square and back again. Although this was our only day in New York before we had to return to reality – some more profitable than others – we had no problem killing it with each other. At least I knew I didn't.

If only my son could.....well, he should at least have the proof I did.

As we returned to Times Square, I got out my phone to send my picture with Jennifer to my son. When I did, I realized I'd have to hurry, since the battery was almost dead. Leaving it on all day and not charging it since yesterday had taken its toll.

I hurried and sent the photo to my son's phone, but that only solved one problem. When he got it, he'd obviously have a lot of questions – and unless he called in the next two minutes, he'd have no way to reach me. I didn't bring a charger or any essentials with me, since I wasn't staying overnight, and I doubted he could hold out until I got back home tomorrow.

Then Jennifer offered a way around that – pointing out her hotel wasn't too far away. I could call from her room and hope he actually answered a strange number.

That kind of idea was risky. Maybe in more ways than one. But there was no sense refusing her. She was 18 years younger than me, yet I knew it wasn't wise to refuse her. Now I knew what a director or studio exec felt like.

But all I was doing was going to her hotel room, not putting her in a $100 million epic or Oscar bait. That's all I was doing. It didn't mean my son wouldn't kill me if he answered her phone.

When we got to her hotel and her room, I tried dialing my son's cell number on her room phone, and he did pick up on the second try. He didn't kill me, but he asked more about me being in New York than me being with Jennifer Lawrence. Then he asked about why I didn't bring him, why I went to New York alone this time, and why we didn't go for a day while he was back home.

I didn't want to get emotional in front of Jennifer, let alone on a phone with my son. But something did finally come out of me.

"It was too much, okay?" I asked. "It's been two years. It's not getting easier....I needed to forget that for a while. I needed to deal with it alone, somewhere else, for a day, all right?" Of course, I wasn't exactly alone now.

Jennifer reminded me when she tapped me on the shoulder. "Mind if I explain it to him?" she requested. I was stunned at such a question, which gave her time to take the phone anyway.

"Hello?" she asked as I got my bearings straight. "Yes, this is she," she went on. After a while, she added, "No, I don't think anyone has nailed an impression of me yet. This is the real Jennifer Lawrence, all right. Real enough to run into your dad, anyway."

I only saw and heard one side of the conversation they were having. It was enough to tell me my son was asking how I was, why I was calling from her room, how we were spending the day together, what I was doing in New York, and why she was helping me. The answers she gave were very flattering.

For her part, she made sure my personal story was on the level, asked about our shared Hunger Games fandom, and confirmed he really was dying with envy right now. Since Jennifer was still talking and laughing, I assumed he wasn't being creepy about it.

At least not as much as I might have been looking at her. And thinking about her. And being amazed by her. That's a combination I really only hit with....

"All right, I'll keep taking good care of him," Jennifer interrupted my revealing thoughts. "Good luck with the book learning and everything else. Be strong for your dad and I know he'll be strong for you." She gave me back the phone and said, "You can prove me right at any time."

I exhaled and could do little else but talk to my son again. "Jesus, Dad...." I heard him exhale back.

"How do you think I feel?" I laughed off.

"You can tell me either way. No matter what. Okay?" he told me seriously. "You tell me everything else about her when you get back. Okay?" he said even more seriously.

"You too," I said, not wanting to take up more time. "I'll call you as soon as I'm home."

"Okay. You lucky son of a...." he trailed off before we said more official good byes. When he hung up, I went to the nearest chair and sat down, amazed anew at my day.

"You need a drink? Not too much, though," Jennifer offered. "You know how dangerous drinking and walking is in New York." I nodded and accepted anyway.

I went to the couch and soon took my drink, while Jennifer had one of her own. When I had enough liquid courage, I said, "Thank you for all that. I hope we didn't make it a bigger problem."

"None of you did. He's a heck of a kid. For being two years younger than me," Jennifer reminded. "But for being 18 years older than me, you're not so bad either."

The math sounded more troubling when she said it....and perhaps a little something else when she didn't seem bothered. "You are quite the character. David would love to pick the brain of a guy like you," she name dropped David O. Russell.

"After Silver Linings and that American Hustle trailer, I'd love to pick his brain too," I mentioned. "The things he comes up with for you....it's a wonder fathers and sons crush on you!"

Although she probably guessed that about us by now, it was something else to say it out loud. Especially in this setting.

"I can get widowed 40-year-olds, from Philly, who've only been with one woman....to share young adult movies and crushes with their sons," Jennifer summed up. "I knew I had power, but Jesus...."

"At least you do good things with that power," I tried to salvage.

"I'm glad you see that," she praised. She then used her power to lean in towards me. I turned my head, in time for her lips to catch mine.

She broke off after a second, which was still slower than I'd have expected. If I was thinking straight. She was the one who didn't look fazed about kissing an older man. I supposed she was fearless like that.

"Was that your first kiss with someone other than your wife?" she wondered.

"No," I answered. "I've had kisses and dates with other women. Before and after. Just not....a bunch of other things."

I looked over at her, gazing down at her top – and I could have sworn it was heaving. Not just her perfect breasts, her whole chest. And....if I was seeing through what I thought I was at the center of those covered breasts....

"So you've done this after?" Jennifer asked, before leaning in again. This time I was ready for her lips.

"A couple times," I said after she broke.

"And this?" Jennifer asked, before kissing me again and sliding the tip of her tongue into my mouth. I met it with mine for a few seconds, until I had to breathe and give my answer.

"Just once or twice," I replied.

"Does that go for this?" she went on, taking my right hand. When I realized where she was taking it, I started holding my breath – then it was fully taken away when I felt her chest.

This was borderline insane, if not other more damning things. Feeling up a 23-year-old, feeling up any woman, feeling up Jennifer Lawrence.....her wanting to be felt up by me....the feeling of feeling her up.....wow, the dirty thoughts I had in movie theaters didn't do it justice.

Before I knew it, I answered her question by reaching for her top and pulling it off, revealing her bare upper body and all its luscious curves – on her waist and on her tits.

"God, you're so gorgeous," I said at the sight of it – this time out loud and right to her, instead of in my mind during her movies.

It didn't answer her question, but she started getting my shirt off anyway. When it was off, I feared the sight of my older body would be more underwhelming for her. Yet she pressed her body against mine and resumed kissing me anyway.

Between kissing Jennifer Lawrence, kissing someone like this other than my wife, and not having to feel her absence for once, I gave up my control. But as her hand trailed to my pants, I realized I still needed some of it.

"What about this?" Jennifer asked, palming my bulge as she kissed my chest. "No one's done that to you?"

"Only....two people in 20 years," I confirmed. "You're looking at one of them."

"Oh," Jennifer took in. "So you've got a lot built up, don't you? I guess first things first, then."

The first thing involved Jennifer going for my zipper. The next involved me steeling myself and hoping I didn't go off immediately. With my experience, I should have had more control on paper – and it's not like I had two full years worth of cum backed up, thanks to my own efforts.

Since no one else had made an effort in over two years, though – and since the hottest young star in the country was breaking the streak – one couldn't be too careful.

Jennifer nearly made that pointless once she pulled my cock out, though.

She stroked me off, going back and forth between watching my cock and my reactions. She looked amused and horny over both – and the thought of me having that effect on her didn't help me. Yet that was a Godsend compared to when she dropped her head into my lap.

Jennifer laid on her stomach besides me, leaning on her right elbow while her left hand held my cock. I looked down at her flowing hair, her smooth looking naked back and the outline of her succulent looking ass in her jeans. If that wasn't enough, her tongue then made contact with my head.

It circled around my head, licked up what it was already leaking, then went down my shaft. Before long, her mouth followed. When it started suckling as her tongue licked down, I almost forced her head down deeper. As it stood, my hand laid into her hair while her head started bobbling.

After several moments of this pattern, Jennifer merely sucked and licked my head, humming before popping off. Instead of going back, she got up and sat upright, leaving me hanging for dear life. Finally, she took mercy and pumped me again, going fast as she leaned in and kissed me slow.

The contrast of her soft, fast hand and soft, slow lips caught my breath – while making me reach up for her soft, full breasts. Once I got a good grip on them, Jennifer broke off, slid her thumb over me, and waited for me to give out.

When I did, two years of overdue cum didn't come out. But it felt like it.

I forgot to get my hands out of the way, so a strand or two landed there for starters. I moved them aside and let the rest of it go on Jennifer, although I could barely see where. I did feel her mouth back on me before the end, though, as she sucked the rest of it down.

Once I was done and able to catch my breath. I saw parts of Jennifer's face, lips, chest and stomach painted with my cum. Not to mention the back of my own hands. "Oh dear God...." I gasped in more ways than one.

"It's okay, I got it. You're still the guest," Jennifer commented, getting up to find some paper towels. I stayed seated in place, until Jennifer came back with a towel roll and a glass of water she drank down, rinsing her mouth off. Eventually, she started wiping herself clean and myself as well.

I was her guest. That may have been simple for her. But not for me. I was....and she was....fuck, what did I do?

What was I going to do?

After a glance down at her naked, jiggling chest, and after Jennifer kissed the back of my hand when she was done, I had a good one word answer. Everything.

If anyone needed this relief, it was me. And if this woman, of all women, wanted to help me – fame, age and everything else aside – I did need to properly thank her. The ways I could....well, it wasn't as if I hadn't thought them out before.

"That was first things first. What about second things?" I snapped into action, standing on my feet. Jennifer stood up in front of me, but I gave her no time to answer.

Once she started kissing back, my hands rested on her waist and didn't stay still. They roamed over the top half of her magnificent body, then went down to her lower half. I practically moaned, "Oh yeah," into her mouth as I felt her ass, which made her respond by grinding up against my spent, hanging out cock.

Maybe I'd have the recovery of a 23-year-old after all. Getting rid of our last remaining clothes would have to help.

So I found the bedroom door, went over and started getting out of my pants in the meantime. By the time I dropped them down to the floor, Jennifer got to the door, opened it and started getting her own jeans off.

She bent down as she lowered them, showing me the heart and cock-racing sight of her round behind, bent over in black panties. After stepping out of her pants, she walked over to her bed and laid on her back. Soon enough, I stood over her nearly naked hourglass figure, before putting my nearly naked body on top of it.

After sharing more heated kisses, I dropped my mouth down to her neck and glided over it. A few licks and nibbles really drove home that....I'd never tasted another woman quite like this in a long time. The different texture and context was jarring for a while – but the more I tasted, the more I got used to it.

I was addicted by the time I started tasting her breasts, cupping and rubbing them as best I could too. My thumbs rubbed the underside as my tongue went back and forth on each nipple, bringing them to their peaks and gliding my lips over them.

"Mmmm....I guess you're not rusty," Jennifer mentioned as she groaned.

"It's been two years. But I still have my fantasies," I said over her left breast. "And there's some tricks I haven't forgotten."

It may not have been feasible, or productive, to use the sexual tricks on Jennifer that I used with my wife. Even if they worked the same, I didn't have to use them. I had a whole new canvas to uncover anyway.