Life Goes On Ch. 00

Prologue

An empty bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape stood beside a small dish of cheese, the last of the full red wine swirling in her glass. Her dark eyes, enhanced by the low wattage Tiffany lamps, peered over the hand slowly turning the glass, studying my facial _expression. She was curled up into a large, comfortable chair, blue in color. The loose, flowery silk dress worn for the earlier dinner party leant a softer feminine touch than the professional look she often favored during the day. She had been an accomplished host for the larger group, an easy conversationalist as we shared some wine once the others left.

"Four years," she mused, "that seems such a long time for a man."

Our conversation had taken a subtle turn, no doubt abetted by the wine, moving into a sharing of the celibacy existing in our individual lives. Mine had been easy during the months of caring for a dying wife, not even considered during that first year of mourning, now a bit of a challenge as life moved on. She hadn't given away all of her situation, alluding to the lonely side of a twenty-year divorcee in a small town while drawing me out.

Reaching down to set my empty glass beside the chair in which I sat opposite, I took the opportunity to move my eyes away as I answered with some defensive humor in my voice, "Perhaps, I don't keep track on a calendar."

Aware of silk rustling, I turned my eyes to see her unfolding from the chair. With a smooth gracefulness, she leaned out of the chair and swept across the carpet to kneel before my chair. Her free hand settled onto one of my thighs as she lifted her glass and slowly drank the remaining wine.

Her tongue appeared, sliding down into the glass and licking out the last few drops, an effective touch to suggest a change in the moment.

"I'd like to help," she said softly, gazing up at me with eyes now smoldering.

Setting her glass beside mine on the floor, she pushed my legs further apart and leaned forward. Her hands moved in, reaching out to begin the process of unbuckling my belt, steady and familiar with how to do so, it seemed.

The loose knot of hair was an interesting mix of ebony and silver atop her head, some loose strands falling down across her cheeks. Leaning forward as she was, the smooth slopes of her bosom showed within the low cut of her dress. Affected by the sight, I leaned back in the chair and focused on her breasts, feeling my loins reacting to the lush flesh.

I felt my pants being unzipped, then pulled open. A thrill shot through me as one of her hands slipped down under the elastic top of my shorts. It was the first woman's hand to go there in such a long time that it felt as exciting as the first time over thirty years ago when my first girlfriend had done something similar.

She had stopped talking now, the only sounds that of clothes being moved about. Yet, when her fingers encountered the bulging flesh inside my shorts, a low croon of pleasure arose from deep in her throat. Her hand moved around, until fingers could wrap around the shaft. Then, she pulled down the shorts with one hand and pulled my swollen penis out into the open.

"Ah yes," she whispered, "it must be hard indeed."

Yes it had been a very long while since that exquisite warmth to be found in a woman's mouth had suffused my being. Breathing deeply, I gazed down upon the woman taking me between her lips and realized how much I wanted this now. Warmth and wetness mingled together in a delicious sensation, circular pressure sliding up and down my shaft, a hand massaging my balls, such a wonderful act re-discovered.

A mantle clock toned eleven times as the Tiffany lamps glowed softly. Shadows moved on the walls, a moving cameo of a woman and man engaged in an erotic dance. Sounds of a mouth sucking slowly, mixed with the pleasurable moans of both.

It had been a long time, too long, I soon realized. Not really knowing the woman at my lap, I spoke a warning, "I'm going to cum soon."

Mrs. Lockwood, the Congregational elder and proper School Board chairperson merely emitted an acknowledging sound of, "Mmmm", and started to suck somewhat harder.

As the words of elderly Mrs. Hancock appeared for a moment in my thoughts, I succumbed to the ministrations of this complicated church elder and groaned in pleasure.