I was your typical 30-something shmuck. Still am, I guess. 10 years before, I had gotten together with a good looking, shy, pregnant red head, and over the ensuing decade she had slowly transformed into a stark raving psychotic bitch. How much of that I could be blamed for, I don't know. But taking her 1000 miles away from her family didn't seem to help matters any.
After 7 years in Florida, with yearly trips back to the Midwest, I had to make an unexpected trip to the Homeland for my grandmother's funeral. It was March, it was snowing, it was very sad, and other than a few brief glimpses of family members who were just as devastated as I was, there wasn't anything about the trip that one might consider 'vacation-like'. But that's all I heard for the next month and a half. How I'd somehow cheated her by taking a 'vacation' to the land of our ancestors. Nearly every day it would somehow come up in conversation. Having been taught that every male in the known universe is, at heart, a worthless bastard who doesn't deserve any woman's regard, and also praying for 3 days of peace and quiet, I eventually agreed to send her away. Not particularly caring at that point where she went.
Things hadn't been what you might call good for quite some time, for either of us. I won't try to sort out what I suspected, what I learned later, what she did, what I did, who lied about what, the emotional support issues, and the whole nine yards of recriminations and regrets. The only thing I can say for myself is, I didn't have an affair. The only thing I will say about her is that she did. Lost and hurt at her further distancing herself from me, I'll admit it, I snooped. Found a diary. Read that diary. And waited a further two gut-shot weeks for her to come to me and admit what I already knew. We tried for a while to salvage something that was sunken too deeply. Too much pain and guilt to patch over. So, at the end of two weeks of further pain I moved out. Two months later she moved back home. I followed 2 months after that, 60 pounds lighter on my way to a depression record setting 110 total pounds lost, mostly from just forgetting to eat.
By the time I started to come out of my haze of depression, nearly a year had passed. She was living on her own in a rented house 30 miles away from where I was living, but only 5 miles away from my sister's home. She had a younger cousin staying with her, in between boyfriends. A spunky, earthy girl named, for the sake of our story, June. June was about 5 feet tall in the right shoes, with bright blue eyes peering out of steel rimmed glasses, a round cheery face, fiery red hair, and a raucous laugh. She was a bit overweight, fairly broad shouldered, with uncountable freckles that ran from her forehead halfway down her enormous white breasts. Proportionately slim hips, with a nice, round butt. All in all a woman you could hang on to and the type of woman that would make you want to. She was just over half my age and she'd had a crush on me since she was 12.
I suppose I should make an attempt to describe myself as well. Average height, but with a 50 inch chest, fairly flat stomach but no attempt at a 6-pack of abs, well muscled legs to support the rest of the frame, long blondish hair with moustache and goatee to match. I've been told that my dark brow eyes are deep and kind and that my smile is mischief personified. As far as my more personal measurements, I can only say, "big enough" as I've never cared to measure it. It seems to do the job though.
I'll admit that it all started out of pity. Hers for me, that is. I was moping around mooning after her cousin, and generally acting the pitiful fool. She decided on her own to drag me out, against my will, to have some fun, damn it. When I was of the opinion that all that stuff was getting in the way of some serious brooding. We'd go to country bars, and she'd drag me out onto the dance floor. We'd go to her friend's houses, and she'd somehow get me involved with whatever was going on. I'm certain now that there were many times she'd considered just dragging me off into the woods and jumping me, but she seemed to know that I wasn't ready for that. But when I was ready for 'that' she was right there waiting. But until then she returned every night to her cousin's house, and I returned to my sister's.
We had skirted around my depression and my ex, juggled our schedules and actually managed to have an entire evening, and most of the next day with nothing to do. So, naturally, we went out to the old stand-by. She borrowed my soon to be ex-wife's car and we went to see a drive-in movie. I had been clear, up to this point, that I was well aware that any hanky-panky with the relative of an ex-wife was strictly verboten. And, frankly, it made me nervous as hell to even carry on a platonic relationship with June. So there we were, talking about a boring-ass movie, listening to the soundtrack on my ex-wife's brand new car stereo, and she's telling me that she doesn't care about the ex, and that she'd take me at the drop of a hat. Well, I not only dropped that hat, I flipped it out the window. We were immediately locked at the lips, tongues fighting for dominance, my hands on her breast and the nape of her neck, and hers on my cock and chest. Suddenly it hit me, here I was, 34 years old about to have sex in my estranged wife's new car, with her large breasted, red haired 22 year old cousin. Except for my car being in the shop, I couldn't remember what I had to be so depressed about.
She looked up at me with her ice-green eyes and growled, "If you don't fuck me soon, I'm really going to hurt you."
I didn't need any words to answer her, which was a good thing because our lips were immediately pressed against each other's again. My left hand had dropped to her waist during the interruption so I slowly slid it back up her torso, inside her shirt caressing her milky skin all the way up to her DD cups, smoothing out the materiel of her bra searching for the bump that wouldn't unwrinkle. The nerves in my fingers and the groan in her throat told me I had reached my goal at about the same time. My groan answered hers when her hands discovered the more substantial bump they had been searching for. Lucky for me, her front clasp bra was easy to figure out because my IQ supporting blood had all been diverted to another area of the body altogether. I had thought her skin was soft, but once her bra was open I found out what soft skin really felt like. I pulled my other hand from the back of her neck to awkwardly get both my greedy hands on her wonderful mammaries.
As my trembling double attack on her tits centered on her delicate pink nipples she moaned, "Oooooh, that's nice!" She giggled as she opened my jeans and slipped her small hand under the waistband of my boxer briefs. "Mmmm, this is nice too" she purred as her fingers wrapped around my rigid cock. Then, as she drew it out of its covering, "Oh, this is very nice." My hands were suddenly empty as her head shot down to my crotch. There was a split second of warmth on the tip of my cock as she kissed it, paused to open her mouth, and then slid it down the length until it touched the back of her throat.
In my opinion the most wonderful thing about a penis is the amount of nerves it has. I could tell to the millimeter where the warmth from her lips ended and the cooler air began touching my flesh as she was slurping up and down my cock.
