We had been at my sister in law's home for a week, helping her sift through her late husband's stuff following his passing. It was a slow process, though almost a year after his demise, she was finally at the point where she could face the task of reliving all the memories that would be stirred up in the course of combing through the paraphernalia that had defined his earthly existence.
Fay, my sister in law-she had been married to my wife's brother-is one of the sweetest people I know. Dark hair, that flows down over her shoulders, blue eyes, 5' 7" or so, long legs, an ass that looks amazing in jeans, and what I figured to be C cup tits, a little hang to them, but in all, pretty good for 60. We had always gotten along well, though as long as Al was alive, she kept a respectable distance, always proper, but not in a stuffy way, though at times she could come across as a little prudish, especially where her kids were concerned. I attributed this to her southern Baptist, Bible Belt upbringing.
It's funny how people respond to change. Fay had been married to Al for 43 years-she was 16 when they got married-and while he was not the domineering type, she seemed to defer to him on most things. Since his passing, she had blossomed into her own, and while not adopting a wild, merry widow kind of life, she had made some changes in their-her-home, got a new car, gone on a cruise, traveled some; things Al wasn't really interested in doing, that apparently had been repressed for a long time.
Through all this, her demeanor toward me had warmed some, though it was still well within the bounds of propriety. I did notice that we joked and laughed together more than we had in the 15 years prior to Al's death. I was seeing a fun side of Fay that was new to me, and we often found each other in deeper conversations than we'd had in the past, slowly getting to know each other more closely. I soon discovered that Fay had a keen sense of humor, and was a lot more worldly than I had given her credit for. I noticed her smiling when I'd make a reference to some obscure song lyric from long ago, especially if we were the only ones in the room who got it. I'd often sit at the counter in the kitchen-I'm an inveterate newspaper reader, and that was a good place to spread out a paper-and Fay would come over to chat, occasionally running her hand over my shoulders when she would pass by. I had always liked Fay, but now she was really growing on me, and she was becoming more attractive with each visit. I was finding I really liked the new Fay.
It was now the first weekend in June, and the weather in Georgia had gotten typically hot and humid. We were tackling the garage, which had a lot of tools, as well as the usual stuff that accumulates in a garage, all of it dusty. Her sons had been over to assist, and had laid claim to most of the power tools-Al had been a home builder-and had loaded what they were taking into pick ups and headed for home. My wife had gone to Kroger to pick up some things for dinner along with her niece and grand niece, leaving Fay and me alone to finish up. We got the remaining items put away, in the yard sale pile, or tossed, and swept up. As I finished, Fay suggested that if I wanted to take a shower, I could use hers in the master bath, rather than the hall bath Ginny, her daughter, used.
I thanked her, glad not to have to risk an avalanche of body wash, shampoo and conditioner bottles in the hall shower. The only down side was that Fay's shower was maybe twice the size of a phone booth, a glass enclosure in a corner of her master bath. I'm six foot and 250, so it wasn't going to be roomy. Still, it was welcome, since I was now covered in sweat and dust from our exploration into the remote corners of the garage.
I went up to shower, found a towel and hung it on the rack outside the shower so I could reach it easily without dripping water all over the bathroom. Once ready, I stepped in, taking my time and letting the warm water run over me, washing off some of the dirt and dust, as well as easing some of the ache on my own 60 year old body from the last several days of lifting, carrying and reaching into hard to get places.
I had reached the point of washing my hair, and was covered in a good lather of Head & Shoulders when I heard the door open.
"Mind if I join you??" came a muffled female voice. The shampoo was over my ears-I really need a haircut-and I assumed it was Barb, my wife.
"Yeah, come on in, the water's fine."
A moment later, the shower door opened, and I felt a naked female body push against me, and long fingers grabbing my face, pulling me downward, then a hard, deep kiss.
"You're not Barb," I thought. I opened my eyes as much as I dared, trying not to get shampoo in them. I got the shock of my life. I looked down to see a nice set of hanging tits, and farther down, a nicely thick dark haired bush topping a pair of long legs. "You're definitely not Barb!!" I thought again. My wife is blonde. It was Fay who was kissing me, and she was serious. She let go of my face with her right hand, her left still cradling my cheek as she kissed. She reached down and started stroking my halfway hard dick, quickly bringing it to full size.
Fay broke the kiss long enough to say, "Mmm, nice. I always wondered what you were carrying around in your jeans." She kissed me again, still stroking. I reached up and took her left tit in my hand, cupping it, and running my thumb over her erect, red nipple, making her giggle, then moan softly as I made it stiffer than it already was, causing a shock wave to run through her.
Fay broke the kiss and pulled away from me, looking down, slowly stroking me. "We don't have a lot of time," she said. She looked at our relative heights, and realized screwing face to face in a standing position wasn't going to work. She turned to face the glass wall of the shower, letting go of my cock long enough to get in her new position. She leaned forward, sticking her glorious ass out at me, spreading her thighs. Between them, I could see a patch of dark hair surrounding a pair of widely spread labia. She reached under herself, taking my cock in her hand, guiding it to her inviting target.
Fay let go when she felt the head of my cock on her pussy, and I slowly slid inside her, much more easily than I expected for a woman of 60. I pushed in til I felt my balls hit her clit. I took her hips in my hands and ground on her, making her squirm from the contact. She looked back at me and smiled, pushing her ass into me. I pulled back and thrust into her firmly, making her tits shake, and drawing a moan as my balls slapped her clit, the head of my cock pounding her cervix.
For the next ten minutes we ground and pounded away at each other. Early into our coupling, I took her tits in my hands, squeezing their fullness and tweaking her nipples, making Fay squirm. I had watched them bouncing in everything from tank tops to pajamas to swimsuits for the last 15 years, wondering how they'd feel in my hands. Now I knew; it was far better than I imagined.
Fay and I kept at each other til I was able to make her come, her pussy juicing nicely around me. I pushed in deep, holding her hanging C cups, and bit her on the shoulder, gently but enough to leave a mark. That set her off a second time, and she came hard, crying out and her pussy soaking me.
She pushed her pussy back onto my cock. "Come in me. I want your come!!" she exclaimed, grinding her clit into my balls. I pulled most of the way out, then slammed into her, going right into her cervix, and unloaded, long bursts of come that filled her. I could feel my sperm leaking out as I was still coming. I looked down to see a long streak of it slipping down her right leg, finally getting washed down the shower drain.
