At the too-young age of 41, I was widowed when my husband was killed in a car accident. It was raining heavily, visibility was poor, the roads were slick and he lost control of his car. That was the end of that, 20 wonderful years of love, lust and companionship gone in the time it takes to light a match.
I was devastated. In the week following the accident, I walked around in a mournful daze. I made the necessary funeral arrangements, trying to tie up a life cut short in a neat little package so all the friends and relatives could take time out of their lives to offer condolences, and then move on.
My 21 year old son Josh was wonderful, considerate, helpful, running interference when he knew I’d had enough. I was grateful to him and proud too. My son so resembled his father at the same age when we had met as college sophomores that I could scarcely bear to look at him without breaking into tears.
I was assailed by other problems too, things I couldn’t believe were happening. I was incredulous and disgusted when, not a month after the funeral two of our friends used the guise of sympathy to hit on me.
Leonard, who lived next door with his shrewish ugly wife, came over with a pan of lasagna. I thanked him, but as he was leaving, he turned and said sincerely, “Tammy, if you ever need anything; food, money, sex, I’m here for you. I’ve always thought you were a hot piece of ass and I envied Mark having you in his bed.”
I slammed the door closed behind him, my mouth agape. He came back though and like a ninny, I opened the door. Whereupon he added, “Or if you want to suck my cock, that would be ok with me too. In any case, I am here for you.”
Paul, who lives on the other side of me, appeared at my kitchen door, his erect cock actually hanging out of his pants. Not wanting anyone to see him like that, I pulled him inside the kitchen. “Use me Tammy!” he said, “I am yours to command. I will lie on the kitchen floor with my cock sticking up and you can ride it, or suck it or rub it with those beautiful tits of yours. Whatever you want to do would be fine with me, it’s been a long time since you’ve been laid and I know Mark would have wanted me to offer myself to you. I used to hear you and him yelling dirty things to each other while you boffed the night away-especially in the summer when the windows were open. The way the two of you used to go at it, you must be hornier than a Bitch in heat!”
My son had been eavesdropping in the living room and chose that moment to bound through the doorway and yell, “You’re a fucking asshole!” As he literally kicked my neighbor out the door exposed dick and all, adding as an afterthought, “And your cock and brain are the size of peanuts!”
I started to laugh and couldn’t stop for the longest time, and then I started sobbing. That went on for even longer. Josh held me and comforted me as best he could as his tears mixed with mine. As I finally calmed down, I reached up and touched his cheek, saying forlornly, “You look so much like your father…to much actually.”
I pulled him closer to me and then the next thing I knew, our mouths were clinging together as if we were trying to give mouth to mouth resuscitation. I pulled back violently and protested, “No Josh, we can’t.” and he fled out the door.
Worst of all, was Patrick, my cousin and Mark’s business partner. When he tried to seduce me two months after my husbands’ death, I gave in with a vengeance. Despite the fact we were related, I’d always harbored a secret, lusty crush on Patrick. He was tall, aggressive and self-confidant, with gigantic shoulders. He had piercing see-all brown eyes and was almost completely bald. He was one of those guys that could get away with a shiny dome; for years it had been his trademark. It had been so long, I couldn’t remember ever seeing him with hair, even though he was only three years older than me.
I once had a dream that Patrick was eating me out and seeing that gleaming head between my legs and feeling his tongue licking my pussy as he went for my juices that I got so excited, I had a throbbing orgasm in my sleep. When I awakened from it, I looked over at Mark and saw he had a hard-on tenting the covers. “You had better be dreaming of me.” I whispered, as I straddled his thighs.
