Second Chance

Although I had barely rested from the previous night's exertions, I woke to find her mouth once again on my cock and her fingers gently caressing my balls. As the morning sun streamed in through the half open window her blonde hair appeared to shimmer and dance as she bobbed up and down on my quickly hardening prick. In spite of the suffering my head was experiencing from the amount of alcohol I had consumed the previous night, the dullness was slowly being replaced by the feeling of euphoria she was giving me. It did not seem possible that having met only twenty four hours or so earlier, we could find ourselves in bed, together.

The raw nerves exposed by the break-up of our marriages were put on hold as we found a kind of solace in each other's arms, although I didn't think either of us felt that we were on the rebound of a 'lost love', or what we had was just a fleeting holiday romance. The fact that neither of us were in the first flush of youth, both being in our mid forties, made the feelings we felt almost surreal. We were acting as if we were teenagers again, finding secluded places to make love, first down a quiet alleyway, then on the moonlit beach. It has to be admitted that we had little in common, my love of sport against hers of the arts, yet our very differences seemed to pull us together, like opposites attracting.

She looked up at me, her eyes seeking mine, before raising her hand and playfully wiggling her fingers at me in greeting. I responded by resting my hands on her head, pushing her gently onto me, feeling my cock momentarily touching the back of her throat. She gagged on me; I apologised but she just laughed and continued to fellate me. I could feel my climax approaching and began to pull her up my body so that she could straddle me or maybe just finish me off with her hand, but she resisted, continuing to suck my cock deep into her. I was close. I could feel the pressure building in my balls.

"I'm cumming," I whispered, to give her the chance to remove me, not knowing if she would want me to ejaculate into her mouth, or not. She continued to suck me and I flooded her, the copious amount surprising me after the previous night. Her oral ministrations did not pause even though I was going limp in her mouth. Then, raising her head, she showed me my cum resting on her tongue, before swallowing.

"Mmm . . . breakfast," she laughed, moving up my body to kiss me gently on the lips. I could taste myself on her, something I had never done before with my ex-wife; I found it not unpleasant.

"Good morning," she said, the laughter still ringing in her voice.

"It certainly is," I responded, drawing her close to kiss her again, wrapping my arms around her to feel her warm body and full breasts against me.

She pulled away. "Breakfast, I think. I've had mine but you need to keep your strength up," she joked, as she rolled off the bed and moved to the bathroom. I followed, standing behind her as she washed, allowing my hands to explore her body as I planted butterfly kisses on the nape of her neck.

"Breakfast," she insisted, and slipped past me into the bedroom, beginning to dress.

"Let's eat on the balcony, naked," I suggested, "we can't be seen."

"My, you are getting adventurous! Okay," she laughed. "I'll bring it out."

I went out on to the balcony and positioned my chair so that I could watch her busying herself in the small kitchen area of the Greek 'pension'. I loved the way her breasts bounced as she moved from one kitchen unit to the next, collecting the fruit, the way she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, causing her backside to sway, as she stretched across the work surfaces.

I thought of our meeting on the beach. A little clichéd, I suppose. She wanted some suntan lotion on her back and I was the nearest person. I wondered if it was that simple, or whether I had been selected for some other reason. I knew it wasn't for the large bulge in my shorts; I wasn't that lucky. I didn't want to ask her, probably didn't really want to know. All I did know was that for the first time in years I was happy, and from the way she laughed and giggled at all my inane jokes I think she was too, at least I hoped and prayed she was.

When I invited her to dinner, I half expected a refusal but she accepted. During the meal I discovered a little about her. She'd married young, had one son, now at university, and an ex-husband who liked his girls barely legal. After his third affair, or the third one she knew about, she decided to end the marriage. This was her first holiday since the divorce, the settlement financing it. In return I told her my story, pretty much the same. A wife that strayed, frequently. Luckily, although I didn't believe it in the early years of our sham of a marriage, no children. That was probably all we knew about each other. I told her my name, Robert, and found out that hers was Susan, but I still didn't know her last name, nor she mine. Yet here we were, spending the night together. It didn't seem wrong, in fact, nothing in recent times seemed more right. My thoughts were interrupted by the jangle of glasses as she moved them onto a tray. She walked towards me with it, laden with fruit and juice.

"This is so naughty," she said smiling, looking around just to confirm that we weren't seen.

"If anyone could see us they wouldn't be looking at me, that's for sure," I said, my eyes wandering over her body.

"Don't put yourself down," she answered. "You have a great body."

"For forty three?" I asked, smiling.

"There you go again, self deprecating. You have to learn to stop that or people will think the low opinion you have of yourself is justified, and I know it isn't."

"What happens after the holiday?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Let's see how it goes, we haven't fucked enough to see if I want you or not, yet," she laughed, her eyes twinkling.

I allowed mine to open wide, in mock disdain, at her comment. She laughed again.

"Don't bother with that look," she said, "I know you're not some prude, or was what happened last night and this morning just a figment of my imagination?"

I laughed with her.

"Breakfast," I said, doing a passable imitation of her voice. She giggled... God, I loved that giggle. I couldn't remember when I enjoyed a breakfast more. It may have been only fruit and juice, but she made me wish that it could go on forever.

"Where to today?" she asked, sliding a piece of melon into her mouth seductively.

"I thought a secluded cove somewhere," I replied.

"You are insatiable," she said, "but I love you for it." The silence that followed was almost tangible. Did she really love me, or was it just a phrase picked glibly from the air in response to my suggestion?

"Let's pack," she said, sensing my unease.

We drove along the coastal road almost in silence. Me, slightly apprehensive of the sheer drop beside us into the clear, crystal sea of the Mediterranean, and her, just enjoying the breathtaking views. Her hand rested on my bare thigh as I drove, occasionally running from my knee to the seam of my shorts; a casual action, so simple yet so indicative of the ease we felt in each others company.

As we turned off the tarmac road and onto a dirt track leading down, I hoped, to the beach, I kept glancing at her. After the trauma I had suffered at the hands, and tongue, of my ex-wife I couldn't believe how lucky I was to have met her.

"Do you know where you're going?" she asked.

"No, not really," I replied. "Does it matter?"

"I don't think it does," she replied, resting her head on my shoulder as I drove.

A few minutes driving took us to a small, deserted cove, and after unpacking, we lay naked on our beach towels and basked in the warm sunshine.

She turned onto her side, facing me.

"Do you want me to move in?" she asked, "For the rest of the holiday, I mean."

I couldn't think of anything I wanted more, so plans were made to move her belongings into my room on our return. We didn't make love that afternoon, just lay alongside each other, kissing occasionally, and enjoying the peacefulness of the deserted stretch of beach.

Late afternoon we drove to the small room she had rented and packed her cases. When we arrived at my 'pension' I sought out the owner and, with as little details as possible, increased my payment to account for the extra occupancy.

"Is this for the rest of the holiday?" he inquired, smiling knowingly at me.

"I hope so," I replied, as I handed him his euros.

Back in the room, after unpacking her things, we decided to have an early dinner, but events dictated that it was almost eleven when we left.

With both of us naked, the soft bed beckoned. I lay on my back as she gently sucked on my nipple, her hand caressing my cock and balls. Erections that had become difficult to coax from my emotionally ravaged body sprung quickly and easily under her touch. I watched with lustful anticipation as her head moved, once more, down towards my groin.

"I love sucking cocks," she said, as she neared my erection.

"Only mine now," I replied.

"Of course," she laughed, then began to lick the end, her tongue squirming over the slit, before sliding the head into her mouth. I couldn't help but wonder how much practice she'd had at this, she was so good, but I tried to dismiss it from my mind. She was bound to have sucked a few cocks in her time, as I had often been sucked. That was the thing, meeting at our ages, both must have a past. Jealousy has no place for the forty pluses, meeting for the first time. As her mouth moved up and down my shaft, I wondered, how did I compare to her previous lovers? Stop it, I thought, only 'now' matters, not the past, the thoughts persisted.

Thoughts spilled over into words and before my brain could process the almost inevitable ramifications of my question, I spoke.

"Was your husband bigger than me?" I asked, instantly regretting the words as soon as they passed my lips. She stopped sucking me and walked towards the bathroom.

The insecurities I had nurtured over the years had surfaced once more. Perhaps because my ex-wife had turned those feelings of inadequacy against me like a weapon, I felt the need for reassurance. I realised immediately, this was neither the place nor the time for such a question.

"I'm sorry," I said, walking after her. "I shouldn't have said that, forgive me." My cock was now swaying, the erection gone. I knew I must have looked as pathetic as I felt.

"That makes me feel like a prostitute, you know, asking me to compare one cock against another, as if it mattered."

She paused for a moment. "Do you want me to leave?" she added, tears filling her eyes as she turned to me.

"No, no," I replied quickly. "I was so stupid."

"Why now, Robert? We've made love before, so why ask now?"

"Because you've moved in, I suppose. Things are different."

"How different?" she asked, cocking her head questioningly.

"I think I love you," I said, running my fingers through her hair.

"We've only just met."

"Doesn't matter, I do love you, you know?"

"Yes, I think I guessed that, but I'm not sure. I've been hurt and I don't want to be hurt again. You do understand, don't you?" she said, looking intently at me.

"I'll never hurt you," I replied, leading her back into the bedroom.

She lay on the bed and I kissed her, gently, not knowing if she wanted to carry on our love making or not. My answer came as she slowly pushed me down towards her breasts. I took her nipple into my mouth, it erected almost immediately. My hand drifted over her hip and to her neatly trimmed bush, my palm rubbing over her mound. I heard her sigh under me. She pushed me lower.

"Suck my clit," she whispered.

I needed no second bidding. My tongue traced a path downward. Parting her lower lips I gently circled her nub with my tongue, seeing the clit peeping out from its protective hood.

"Suck on me," she pleaded again.

I took the small, hard pearl between my lips and sucked.

"Harder," I heard her whisper.

I drew it deeper into my mouth, taking the whole area between my lips, and sucked.

"Yes, yes, fuck,"

My cock was aching, desperate for release, but she held my head tight into her groin, grinding herself against me. Her juices were flowing; I lapped at them, tasting her sweet, heavy lubricant.

Suddenly she pulled me up to her face, kissing the wetness from my lips.

"Fuck me," she said, "fuck me hard."

I slid my cock home, feeling her grip me. I began to fuck her slowly.

"Harder," she whispered, "fuck me harder, faster."

I began to pound into her, sliding the full length of my shaft out, then back in until our pubic bones hit.

"Harder, ram me," she said, louder this time.

I began pistioning into her, my climax so close.

"Now," she shouted, "Fill me."

My cock erupted, sending hot cum deep into her, my balls emptying themselves, forcing the ejaculate deep into her cunt.

I collapsed onto her, exhausted.

"You are the fuckin' best," I heard her say, "but no more questions, like that, Robert, please." I didn't know if the first part was true, but my ego bathed in her words and my insecurities evaporated.

"And you're crushing me. Sorry," she added.

I rolled off her and she laughed.

"It must have been good, lover," she said, stroking my hair.

I smiled and nodded, still panting.

"Dinner?" she inquired.

"I'll get dressed in a minute," I replied. "Must shower."

"You need to get into shape," she shouted as I left, "if were going to live together. You have to be fit and healthy for me. I need servicing . . . regularly."

I walked a few more steps before her words registered with me. "You want us to live together?" I asked, silently praying for a positive response.

"If you want to."

God, yes," I replied, almost running towards her to hold her again.

We kissed, passionately, before she broke free.

"Er . . . dinner."

"Right," I answered, "Dinner it is."

Dinner was long and drawn out, as is usual in Greece, and it was almost three when we returned to our room. Her moving in with me hadn't been mentioned since her first comment, and I began to wonder if she was regretting it. I broached the subject tactfully.

"You sure you want to move in with me?" I asked hesitatingly as she nuzzled my neck.

She raised her head, "I am. Are you?"

"Never more sure of anything," I replied, and she again rested herself against me. A few minutes later I felt her breathing deepen as she succumbed to sleep.

The next morning, and every morning of our holiday, started the same way. I woke, slowly, a pleasurable feeling in my groin, as she drew my still limp prick into her mouth, sucking strongly on it. I was soon hard as she drew me deep into her mouth, her tongue swirling over the head. Never losing contact, she swivelled her hips and placing her knees on each side of my head, lowered herself to my mouth; my tongue lapped at her, the taste, now familiar, but still as intoxicating as ever. I moved my head slightly, my tongue finding her clit. I sucked on her gently for a moment then harder as I knew she liked. She slumped against me; I knew she was close. I sucked her clit harder, drawing the area into my mouth as if trying to tear it from her body. She groaned and climaxed, her juices flowing like a river from her. I swallowed greedily, her nectar flowing down my throat. I'd never known a woman produce so much and I loved it.

Suddenly she was gone. I felt her straddle me, her cunt lining up with my hard prick. She dropped onto me, my cock disappearing inside her in one movement. She continued rising and falling, driving me ever deeper into her until I could stand it no longer. I shot load after load into her, filling her.

She smiled down at me, a smile of playful deviousness, and I wondered where this lady was taking me next; I didn't have long to wait. Slipping off me, she again began to suck on my semi-erect cock this time swivelling around, until her cunt was once more over my mouth. I hesitated, seeing the mixture of my own cum and her cream around and inside her opening, but as she lowered herself down onto me I found myself, almost involuntarily, licking and sucking on her, our combined secretions filling my mouth. I swallowed, savouring the sweet, yet salty, taste and I felt her climax again as I drunk from her.

"Is this how you're going to wake me every morning?" I asked, as soon as our bodies returned to normal, the salty taste still on my lips.

"If you want me to."

I licked my lips, allowing my actions to answer her. As each day passed, it pushed us closer to the end of our holiday, until the time came to pack and return home, me to mine, and her to mine also.

I had to ask her, one last time, if she was sure about moving in, now that the holiday was over; people's feelings change, but hers hadn't.

The flight home was uneventful but when we arrived at the airport an incident occurred that I believe cemented our relationship.

When we cleared customs we headed for the exit. It was then that I saw her, Brenda, my ex-wife, standing in the distance. Susan saw me looking at her.

"Who's that?" she asked, but I'm sure she knew already.

"Someone from a past life," I answered, "long past."

Susan pulled me closer and I saw Brenda disappearing, quickly, through the nearest exit.

I never knew why Brenda was there, maybe to dispel any lingering pleasure I might still have from my holiday, but I didn't care. I have a new love now, a faithful one.