I arrived home only minutes before Veronica, and I helped unload the shopping bags from her car and carried them through to the kitchen where the kettle was already boiling. I made tea for Veronica and a mug of instant coffee for myself.

Leaving Veronica to put away the groceries, I went out on to the patio. I was greeted by the sun peeping over the fringe of a cloud. It was pleasantly warm and when Veronica joined me, carrying her tea and a magazine, she had changed into knee-length cotton shorts and a halter neck top, all of which showed off her tan. She’d pulled her hair back into a small ponytail.

“Nice ensemble,” I said, peering over my mug of coffee as she sat alongside me. 

Veronica placed her tea on the table, crossed right leg over left and rested the magazine in her lap. “Hmm, thank you,” she smiled. “I was in fact thinking about putting on a swimsuit and laying out on a lounger. What do you think? Is it warm enough?”

“I’d give it a little longer, see if these clouds disappear. But the forecast is for a warm, sunny afternoon.”

“Okay, you’re right. I’ll give it a chance to warm up.” She lifted the magazine from her lap and started to flip the pages. It seemed as though she was searching for a specific article but, abruptly, she plopped it onto the table and reached for her cup and saucer.

“Are you okay, Veronica?”

She half-turned her head, raised her eyebrows and, with the cup poised at her lips, said, “Hmm, why do you ask?”

“Well, you seem a bit restless. Something bothering you?”

She drank some tea, leaving a trace of red lipstick on the china, and settled the cup back on the saucer, which she held in her lap. She looked down for a few seconds and said, “You know me very well, Richard, perhaps too well.” And she looked into my face, eyes searching and appraising. “Yes, something is bothering me… well, no, not exactly bothering me, it’s more… oh, I don’t know.” She shrugged her shoulders which set her bosom rippling. I then realised Veronica wasn’t wearing a bra beneath her skimpy top. Quite unusual for her.

“Want to talk about it?” I asked.

“Oh, I don’t know Richard, I really don’t know.” She paused briefly and virtually whispered, “But I think I should, to be fair.”

Veronica had bowed her head again and was staring into her tea cup. I was concerned because, in the past few days, she had been most unlike her usual reserved, equitable self. The handjob and the wine drinking were two striking examples of Veronica behaving out of character.

“To be fair?” I asked. “Fair to whom?” 

Now she sat upright, sergeant-major straight, bare shoulders pulled back and undulating chest proudly jutting. She said, “I don’t want to make a big fuss, Richard, but I’ve been a bit… well, confused, lately. It’s nothing serious, just something that’s happened and…” she trailed off and sank back into her seat.

I sat and waited for her to continue. The silence dragged. Veronica was evidently contemplating her next statement. The sun was warming up and birdsong carried on the light breeze which ruffled through the trees and hedges. I ran out of patience.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

I didn’t know where Veronica’s mind and thoughts had been but she was clearly startled to hear my voice. “What?” She looked at me, her face registering surprise as if she’d forgotten I was sitting there. “Oh, sorry, Richard. I was miles away,” and she sighed.

“Yes, I could see that,” I said and resumed waiting for more information.

She turned her face up to the sun, eyelids closed. “Mmm, I think I will get changed into my swimsuit,” she said. “Would you be an angel and get out a sun lounger for me?”

“Yes, sure, of course,” I said, disarmed by this sudden switch in the conversation.

“Thanks,” she smiled and again looked into my eyes, almost quizzically. “Why don’t you get one for yourself and join me. I’ll get you a cool beer. How’s that sound?”

I nodded, somewhat bemused. “Yes, okay, Veronica,” I said and we both rose from our seats. I made my way to the shed where we kept our garden tools and various foldaway sun loungers. Veronica disappeared inside the house.

I set up the loungers, placed a small plastic table between them, and decided I should exchange my pants and sports shirt for swim shorts. At that moment, Veronica came through the patio doors and I was stunned: Veronica in a bikini!

It must have been bought recently because she hadn’t worn a two-piece in years. Sea blue, the top was held up by thin straps and the panties were quite brief, cut high on the hips. I wolf-whistled and Veronica beamed at me.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” she said, walking towards me, proffering a can of beer and I’m sure she exaggerated the swing of her full hips. Sunglasses were lodged in her hair and she had refreshed her red lipstick.

“When did you get that?” I asked, nodding at her outfit.

Veronica laughed. “Before the girls were born. Can’t you tell? It’s not today’s style at all. Now they’re tiny thongs and patches which barely cover nipples let alone breasts.”

“In fashion or not, you look good,” I said.

“I discovered it the other day when I was doing a bit of late spring cleaning, sorting things out for the charity shop.” She grinned. “I tried it on just out of curiosity and was surprised that it fit me at all.” Then she tapped her stomach. “I’m having to breathe in here, you know, and my thighs are thicker. My bottom’s not too big, is it? Anyway, I’d never wear it in public.”

I looked again at Veronica’s figure, this time a little more critically. As she sat on the lounger, her tummy sagged over the waistband and her legs were on the chubby side. Her bosom, I knew, was still defying gravity and, although her arms were somewhat fleshy, they were not yet flabby. Overall, not bad for a lady in her mid-fifties wearing swimwear she’d bought thirty years ago.

She settled back on her lounger, dropped the sunglasses over her eyes and said, “This is the life, Richard.”

It seemed she had forgotten all about our earlier conversation. I popped open the beer and took a swig. It was cold, refreshing. “Right,” I said, “I’ll get changed.”

“Okay, I’ll still be here.”

Inside the house, it was cooler and darker. I waited for my eyes to adjust after being in the bright sunlight and then made my way to the bedroom. Climbing the stairs, I felt my phone vibrating. I had a message.

In the bedroom, I removed the phone from my pocket and looked at the screen. I was surprised to see: 1 message from Gaynor Reid. The time was 1:27, barely three hours since we’d spoken on the phone. I opened the message:

Hi Richard, promised I wouldn’t keep you waiting. Have sent an e-mail xx

I quickly disrobed, found my shorts in a drawer and then headed barefoot along the landing to my office. I booted up the computer and wandered over to the window while the machine whirred into action. I looked down at Veronica. From on high, her thighs were definitely plump and her hips generously spread in the lounger. I suppose the unexpected sight of Veronica in a bikini had prompted my wolf whistle. And that had me pondering: What on earth is going on with her? Why is she acting so out of character? She’s not menopausal. Been there, done that. It was a puzzle but I turned away and went to sit at the computer.

Gaynor’s message was at the top of the inbox menu and I clicked on immediately.

Subject: Telephone chat

Dear Richard,

First, it was really good to talk, to hear your voice again. I guessed you were a bit nervous and so was I. But I tend to come over a bit flippant in times of stress but you sounded serious and a bit shaky at first.

Anyway, it was good and I’ve been doing virtually nothing since then but sit here thinking about you, about our conversation and what to do next.

You may think I’m being premature here, Richard, but I am concerned about what might happen after we meet. (Notice the after).

As I told you, I don’t want to get hurt by this relationship. Once was enough and I’ve avoided anything like it for thirty-two years now. Oh, I’ve had my moments, believe me on that, but you were my love and soulmate. I couldn’t opt for second best even though you weren’t available for me. I know: silly cow, but there it is.

I’m in danger of waffling here. That’s my nerves. Okay, I’ve just sat back and composed myself again and this is what I’m thinking:

One: Can you promise me no trouble will occur between me and Veronica. I don’t want to be responsible for any fall-out between you two.

Two: Are you sure you can handle this situation? Meeting physically is rather different from cyberspace or even voices on the phone.

Three: Why do you want to see me again? I mean, REALLY WHY? What do you expect and want from this reunion?

Four: Are you available Friday morning about 11-30 for a few hours?

Yes, whether it’s right or wrong, I do want to see you. It could be another huge mistake but, well, here goes.

Either phone me (anytime you can) text or send a reply this way.

Oh yes, stupid brain-dead witch: where to meet if you can make it on Friday? I’ve got a rough idea about your location area (the Mario’s restaurant car parking affair has helped) and I wonder if you remember The Toad’s Hollow on the river. We went there a couple of times on summer evenings. It’s still going, extended a bit, and they do food. We could even stroll along the riverbank and make believe we’re in romantic Paris.

Or, perhaps not. Anyway, think about those points I’ve mentioned and I’ll wait to hear from you.

Love

Nurse Reid (as was)

Gaynor (as is)

Butterfly (hey, you know by now)

Byeee xx

I quickly read through the message a second time and sent it to my special GR folder. I put the screen on sleep mode and made my way back downstairs to rejoin Veronica while I chewed over this latest development.

As I stepped onto the patio, Veronica asked me to bring over her magazine and I obliged, placing it on the table between our loungers.

“You’ve been a long time,” she said.

“In the loo, call of nature,” I said, patting myself metaphorically on the back for my quick response. “Have you put any sun lotion on?”

“Yes, when I was in the bedroom. What about you?”

“No, but I’ll be okay, it’s not that hot. No hotter than when I’m golfing.”

“Right,” she said. I could see Veronica’s eyes were still closed behind her dark lens. She ignored the magazine I’d placed on the table.

I relaxed back on my lounger. Well, relaxed may not be accurate. I lay back but my mind was busy, contemplating not only my response to Gaynor but the prospects of meeting on Friday, two days away. Just two days. After all these years. 

I exhaled loudly and Veronica asked, “You okay?”

“Yes, just relaxing,” I lied and decided I must phone Mick and arrange a phony golf match. The deceptions are beginning to pile up, I thought, and I recalled Gaynor’s husky voice, “I don’t want any trouble with your wife, you know.”

“By the way, I can’t remember, Veronica, did I tell you I was playing golf on Friday?”

“Hmm, Friday? Don’t think so. But I don’t think we’ve got anything on.”

“Good,” I said.

“Oh, wait a minute.” Veronica wriggled and sat up from her reclining position. She turned her head to look at me. “This Friday?”

“Yes,” I said, my stomach churning and my heart drumming furiously inside my chest. Please, God, don’t tell me she’s arranged a dinner party.

“I’m seeing Helen again on Friday. That’ll probably work out okay. You can eat at the club again, can’t you?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” I said, relief flooding through my body. Then thought: Helen, the divorcee? Again?

~~~~~~~~~

That evening, I phoned Mick from my office to arrange my alibi (“Be careful, old pal,” he said) and sent an e-mail to Gaynor:

Subject: Can’t believe it

Dear Gaynor,

Yes, Friday is good for me, excellent in fact. I remember The Toad and it’s not too far from me. I can make it by 11:30 and suggest we meet in the car park. I’ll be in a grey Volvo but I think you’ll recognise me from my wonderful Facebook pic.

You know, I’m quite amazed that we’re so close to meeting again. I never, ever thought I’d see you again. I dreamed about it but never thought it would happen. Crikey, I’m like a lovesick teenager. I promise I’ll have calmed down by Friday (oh, yeah, pigs are flying!)

Please, don’t concern yourself about any fallout regarding Veronica. We’ve been together for a long time but I’m sure you’d be surprised about our relationship. It’s not what most people would think a marriage should be like. Anyway, that’s for another time. Just to say, all is under control and you need not have any fears.

I have, of course, thought about the points you made and perhaps we can talk about them on Friday.

On Friday, that sounds so normal and yet it’s so NOT normal: it’s very, very special.

By the way, I’ll be dressed in golfing gear, just pants and sports shirt (maybe a sweater, depending on the weather) because that’s where Veronica thinks I’m going. Mick is my alibi. Think you’ll remember him: Mick Palmer, my old mate.

Okay, my Petal (not quite sure about this butterfly wings bit) I’ll see you Friday at 11:30 (guess you’ll be a little late, just to keep me waiting on tenterhooks. A ladies prerogative, eh?).

Till then,

Love

Richard x x x

Downstairs, I found Veronica sitting on the couch, reading her magazine. “Would you get me a glass of brandy, please Richard,” she asked, looking over her shoulder as I entered the lounge.

“Sure, anything with it?”

“Perhaps a little more brandy,” she said, and chuckled. “A couple of ice cubes would be good.”

I decided to join her in the choice of drink. I poured decent measures but didn’t bother with ice in my glass. “Here you go,” I said handing Veronica her drink and then walking to sit in my nearby armchair.

“Thanks. Cheers,” she said and sipped.

I watched as she put the magazine down at her side and looked across at me. It didn’t seem this magazine would ever be read. “You know what we were talking about earlier… ” she started and I looked at her, trying to remember which subject she was now recalling. I cocked my head to one side and raised my eyebrows.

“We’ve discussed a few things today, sweetheart,” I said with a smile.

She didn’t smile but dipped a finger into her brandy glass and stirred the ice cubes around. Then she licked the finger and finally looked up at me. “I mean about what’s been bothering me. Well, not bothering… just something that happened.”

“Yes, I remember, that now,” I said. “It was before you decided to sunbathe and put on your old bikini.”

Veronica nodded. “Well,” she paused. “Look, you’ll probably think I’m being stupid, that’s it’s something about nothing.”

She stopped again. I waited and wondered what bombshell she was about to drop. Finally, I could wait no longer and broke the silence, “I can’t say until you tell me, can I Veronica?”

“No, you can’t,” she said and lifted the magazine off the seat next to her. She dropped it on the floor and patted the cushion. “Come sit here with me, Richard.”

I did as asked, settling back into the couch. Veronica, with brandy in her right hand, reached with her left and took hold of my right hand. I turned my head to look at her and she gave me a small, corner-of-the-mouth smile and took a deep breath. Here it comes, I thought, whatever “it” is.

“You know that Helen’s been divorced for some months now, since John decided last year that his secretary was a younger and more desirable prospect.”

I nodded. “And you’ve been a good friend, helping her through some tough times.”

“Hmm,” she said. “Well, it wasn’t easy for her and, quite honestly, I worried at times. The doctor prescribed her pills. You know, tranquilizers and sleeping pills and such and I was worried that she might do something silly. Sometimes, especially when I went round to visit her in a morning, she slurred her words. I guess she was also drinking. Not that I could smell anything on her but she likes vodka and there’s not a lot of smell with that, is there?”

I nodded and we both drank brandy.

“Well, what I’m coming round to… a few weeks ago, after we’d been out for dinner, I drove Helen home. By the way, John’s let her keep the house under the divorce settlement.

But he can afford it, the bastard.” 

Veronica sipped more brandy. 

“Anyway, Helen asked me in for a nightcap and I had a small glass of wine. I think Helen had gin, quite a big one with a splash of tonic. So, we sat on her sofa, bit like you and I are now,” and she squeezed my hand, “except we weren’t holding hands. Well, to cut the story short, Helen was talking about John and his floozy and she got very upset, started crying and sobbing. So, as you do, I put my arm around her to give her comfort and she put her head on my shoulder.”

Veronica paused again and drained her glass. Mine was still half full. “Want a refill?” I asked.

“Mmm, but not just yet,” she said, again squeezing my hand. “So, there we were, me comforting Helen, her sobbing on my shoulder, when I felt her hand move over my breasts. Not just brushing over them but really rubbing them and feeling for my nipples with her fingers. I was shocked.” Veronica paused and looked at me. “I will have that refill now,” and she handed me the empty tumbler.

“So, what did you do?” I asked as I got up to replenish our drinks.

“Well, nothing really. I didn’t know what to do. I just thought she was so upset and probably wasn’t even aware of what she was doing.”

“You’re probably right,” I said, returning with the drinks.

“Mmm, thanks,” she said, accepting her glass as I sat again. “But it happened again, the next time I went to see her. In fact, she greeted me with a kiss on the lips and that’s not something we’d ever done before.”

I looked at Veronica and wondered how far this tale was going, recalling how flushed and tipsy she had been after her last outing with Helen. “Are you saying that Helen has come on to you? In a lesbian way?”

Veronica took a fair slug of brandy and squeezed her eyes shut as it burned down her throat. She coughed and nodded her head. “Yes, that’s it, Richard. Well, I think so.”

“Hmm,” I said, “and this has got you confused. You don’t know what to do because she’s a friend in need coming out of a nasty divorce?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “partly that.”

“Partly? What else?”

Veronica smoothed her left hand along her skirt and then again gripped my right hand. She looked down into her lap. “I think I like it,” she whispered, haltingly.

Now I was stunned. And speechless. For a few moments nothing was said until I managed, “And so how far have you gone?”

She shook her head. “Not far. Kissing and cuddling. All above the waist, nothing between our legs. Helen’s kissed my breasts, sucked my nipples. That was the last time, the other evening.”

It was my turn to slug the brandy. “So, are you telling me that you’re confused because you don’t know whether you’re lesbian?”

“Or bi-sexual,” she said quickly.

“Ah,” I said, the unexpected handjob springing to mind. “Is that why you wanted to play with me the other night? To see what you felt like after all these barren years?”

Veronica nodded but didn’t speak.

“And?” I asked.

Veronica shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not sure,” she said softly. “I liked the feel of you in my hands but I’m very confused. I’m not sure about anything. It’s all so new. I mean, with Helen it’s new. With you, with any man I suppose, I don’t know whether I’d want to be fucked.” She shook her head. “Sorry, that’s crude. But you know what I mean, don’t you?”

“Think so,” I said, reflecting on Veronica’s recent confession about the fear of pregnancy and the fact that for many years she’d avoided taking a penis in her. “But, before Helen, did you ever have sexy feelings towards a woman?”

“I’m not sure.” She turned to look at me. “I’m not sure about anything, Richard. It’s all so puzzling. I don’t know that I’m even attracted to Helen. It could be just something that’s happened and I’ve got carried away with it. It’s as if I’m consoling her and don’t know how to stop it going too far.”

“I think that could be right,” I said. “Bit of a runaway train, eh?”

She shrugged again. “Could be, maybe… oh, I don’t know. Oh dear, what on earth must you think of me. And please, please, don’t mention any of this to the girls.”

I smiled at her. “Don’t worry, Veronica. I’ve never mentioned our sex life to the girls and I’m not about to start now.” I bent and kissed the top of her head. “I’m sure you’ll sort it out with Helen.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Don’t mind what? That you’re unsure about what’s happening between you and a friend?” I shook my head. “Believe me, Veronica, I knew something was happening when you came on to me. I just didn’t know what had sparked it. Now I do. What happens next is up to you. All these thirty-odd years we’ve been good partners and had a good life together. Except for not having sex, I’ve no complaints. But I will tell you this, after the girls were born and it became obvious you didn’t want me making love to you, I thought you were frigid.”

“Maybe I am,” said Veronica quickly.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Not to be harsh here, Veronica but after all these years do you think I’m bothered? We don’t have sex, we haven’t had sex for a lifetime, and that’s that. I came to accept the situation a long, long time ago and, truthfully, in our relationship now I don’t think it matters a jot anymore. If you now find that you can have fun with Helen, or any other woman, well… ”

“You really are quite a remarkable man, Richard,” she said with a slow shake of her head. “Quite remarkable.”

I watched Veronica sip her drink. I tried to recollect when she’d first mentioned Helen, when they’d become friends. “Remind me,” I said, “how did you meet Helen?”

“At the gym. John hadn’t long left her for his floozy and we got talking one afternoon in the beauty room. We had a coffee later and she told me about her situation and we sort of developed from there.”

“So, you’ve known her less than a year?”

“Yes, about ten months or so.” Veronica nodded and paused. “But we’ve got closer since her divorce. I think she’s quite lonely. From what she’s told me, I reckon most of their friends were really John’s.”

“Could be,” I said and stood. “But I do think that you’d probably be better talking over this, er… situation… with Helen. Find out how she feels at least. What she wants, eh?”

Veronica looked at me and I added, “But, whatever you do, just be discreet. Remember, way back in the day when I went with the occasional other woman for sex, I didn’t broadcast it. Okay?”

Veronica nodded. “Yes, Richard. And thank you for being so understanding.”

I smiled. Would she be equally as understanding about Gaynor? And was it because of my renewed contact with Gaynor, that I was able to be so understanding? Was I hoping for a similar response from Veronica should the occasion arise?

“Okay, I’m going up to my office to play some computer games. Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

“Night, Richard,” she said and bent to pick up her magazine. “I’ll just finish my drink and then got to bed.”

Upstairs, I switched on the computer and settled into my leather, swivel chair. And I thought, my mind wandering back…

THEN

Small bits of confetti were still lodged in our clothing when I carried Veronica into the hotel suite. In the ballroom, the reception was winding down and we’d made the rounds to say goodbye and thank everyone for the gifts and for attending. 

We made a special point of thanking Veronica’s parents for the whole day. No expense had been spared for their only daughter’s wedding. Her father Clive had even paid for our first night together as man and wife in this honeymoon suite.

Now, I back-heeled the door shut and carried Veronica through the sitting area, evading our luggage which had been left earlier in the middle of the room, and on into the bedroom. We shared a lingering kiss and, finally, I bent my back and lowered her gently and slowly until her feet settled into the thick-piled carpet.

I placed my hands on her waist, the brocade of her white dress tickling my palms. We kissed again and then Veronica looked up into my eyes. “Well, husband,” she said, smiling, “I believe there’s one more thing we’ve got to do to make this wedding day complete.”

“Mmm,” I said, staring into her blue eyes. “I do believe there is, Mrs Johnson. And that means, I’m afraid, it’s time to remove your lovely wedding dress.”

“I know.” Veronica exaggerated a sigh. “And my tiara,” she said, raising her arms and seeking to remove the pins that secured the jeweled band to her hair.

I removed my suit jacket and shook a cascade of confetti onto the lush carpet. I began to unbutton my shirt and Veronica stepped forward to run her hands over my chest.

“You will be gentle with me, won’t you Richard?”

I gulped and nodded, looking deep into my virgin bride’s eyes. “Of course, always sweetheart,” I said and located the zip high in the back of her sleeveless dress. Slowly I drew it down, stopping at the base of her spine. I kissed the hair on the top of her head and used my hands to ease the bodice down to her waist.

We held hands and I stood back a pace, casting my eyes over her naked shoulders and the swell of her breasts in the half-cup bra. I looked back up at her face and smiled.

Veronica smiled back. “I’ve got things to do in the bathroom,” she said. “Why don’t you open the champagne and get into bed? I won’t be long.” She pecked my lips and I watched her cross the room to the bathroom, where she gave a little wave of her fingers and closed the door.

I hastily disrobed to my briefs and then opened the bottle of champagne which stood in an ice-bucket on a silver tray on a bedside table. Three flutes stood on the tray, two empty and the third containing a single red rose. Nice touch. As I poured the bubbly, I heard the bathroom door open. With a glass in each hand, I turned - and inhaled sharply.

Veronica wore a white, full-length satin nightdress. The material clung to her curves and was slashed from the shoulders in a deep V between her round breasts.

“Wow, Mrs Johnson!” I exclaimed as she approached me with an easy sway of her hips and jiggling of her tits. Her nipples jutted darkly against the near-transparent material. Her red lipstick smile was wide and her eyes shone brightly.

“I guess you like my nightie,” she said, glancing directly at the growing bulge straining in my briefs. She took a glass out of my hand and we clinked in a toast, “To us,” we said in unison. We sipped and Veronica walked around to the other side of the bed. She placed her glass on the nightstand, turned down the covers and fluffed up the pillows.

I put down my glass, propped a pillow against the headboard and sat on the edge of the bed before swinging my legs between the sheets. I reached for my glass as Veronica eased between the sheets and lay down on her left side, facing me. Her right hand glided up and down my my thighs for a few seconds and then rested on my briefs. My cock was hard and hot.

“Come, kiss me, please, ” she said quietly, looking up as I emptied my champagne flute.

I leaned to put the glass on the silver tray and then slid down the sheets on my right side and placed my left hand on Veronica’s cheek. Our lips melted together and opened to allow entrance for our flicking, licking, seeking tongues. My hand wandered from her face, down her neck, shoulder, chest and settled on her right breast. The satin was smooth in my palm and as I caressed the soft globe I felt her nipple harden beneath my fingers. And my cock stiffened when Veronica eased a hand under the waistband of my briefs.

We stopped kissing, looked into each other’s hungry eyes and Veronica said, “He’s really big now, Richard. Bigger than those other times I’ve held him.”

I smiled and kissed the tip of her nose, all the time fondling her breast and teasing her firm nub. “It’s all for you, sweetheart,” I said.

“I know,” she said, removing her hand. “You’d better take your pants off so that I can feel him properly.”

I sat up and slid my briefs off, tossed them across the room and lay down, propped on my right arm, head resting in my hand. I smiled as Veronica circled her fingers around my shaft and slowly stroked my length. My left hand roamed over her tummy, her right hip and thigh.

“Just a second,” said Veronica and wriggled to pull up her nightie. She sat up and drew it over her head, releasing her proud tits, and shook her head to loosen her hair. She slid back down on her left side and I drew her to me. The flesh of our bodies was cool, chest against breasts, stomach against tummy, thigh on thigh - and a hot cock squashed down there. We kissed deeply and my left hand caressed Veronica’s back, buttocks, thigh and found space between our bodies to lightly play among her soft pubic hairs.

Veronica sighed as my fingers tickled and probed, pressed and stroked until she parted her thighs a little, giving access for a finger to slide along her moist slit. I gently rolled her on to her back, lowered my head to kiss and suck her tits, and brushed my fingers tenderly around her vulva. With thumb and forefinger, I gently parted her labia and eased my middle finger towards her vagina. Veronica was wet and she closed her eyes as I probed deeper, entering slowly and gradually. I stroked up and down, in and out, knuckle deep. Veronica’s breathing was short and rapid and the seeping juices in her love tunnel covered my exploring finger until she whispered, “I’m ready, Richard.”

I got between her legs and she raised her knees before putting her hands on my shoulders. I reached between our bodies and guided my erection to her pussy where I rubbed the dome between her pink moist lips and sought the tight entrance.

Veronica tensed as my cock nudged forward and I kissed her forehead. “Relax,” I said and she surprised me by spreading her thighs and reaching down to grab my buttocks and encourage me towards her. The moment my dome burst into her vagina, penetrating her for the first time, Veronica let out a loud, hot-breath gasp and shouted, “Good God Almighty.”

I let the initial shock of intrusion subside before slowly progressing up and back down her tight but lubricated channel. Veronica’s fingers, which had remained clenched into my buttocks, finally slackened and she began to meet each of my thrusts, raising and lowering her hips steadily to the accompaniment of an increasing murmur from her mouth.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“Mmm… yes, Richard… just keep it like that.”

I maintained a steady rhythm, easily and tenderly probing her inner depths, my balls sac flapping against her. Veronica’s vagina walls gripped and clung to my pulsating erection and I knew I couldn’t last much longer. Our first time of complete love-making was about to end.

“Oowa,” breathed Veronica, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, as my rigid cock rapidly expanded even thicker. I increased the piston movement, quicker and harder, until, panting and grunting, I ejaculated powerfully into her dark cavern. 

Veronica clung to my back as I spurted and spurted and, as I juddered to a breathless halt, she suddenly exhaled loudly and threw her arms outwards to thwack down on to the bedclothes. She rolled her head from side to side and finally became still, sinking heavily into the mattress. Our breathing was ragged and I took most of my weight on my toes and arms. My cock twitched and throbbed in the confines of Veronica’s hugging, sodden pussy.

Eventually, I withdrew my diminishing penis and settled on to my right side. I placed my left hand on Veronica’s hot mound, the pubic hairs damp and matted. “Are you okay?” I whispered.

Veronica opened her eyes, turned her head to look at me and smiled. “Oh yes, thank you Richard.” She gave a girlish giggle. “Now I know what all the fuss is about, I wish I hadn’t waited so long.” She reached down to feel my sticky, almost-limp manhood. “Can you get him hard again for another go?”

NOW

I realised I was smiling broadly at the recollection of our honeymoon night. The card game on the computer screen in front of me had not even been started and I closed it with one click of the mouse.

Yes, Veronica was an enthusiastic lover in those early months of marriage. She had been keen to learn, to try new positions and we didn’t confine ourselves to the bedroom. And then it all shut down. Click, just like that. For years, nothing. Until now. And what was happening now?

I shook my head in wonderment and reached for the brandy glass. I swallowed and enjoyed the heat of the liquid threading down my throat. After all these years, Veronica is again thinking about sex, talking about sex. Great - except she doesn’t know if she’s lesbian! Whatever next?

I chuckled. How strangely ridiculous is all this? I’ve reached the time of life when most men are content with the “slippers and a pipe” lifestyle. Me? I’ve got a wife who might be starting a full-blown lesbian affair. And, in less than two days, I’ll be reunited with an ex-girlfriend who, I believe, is the true love of my life. Where is all this leading?

I scratched my head, removed my spectacles and switched off the computer. I could hear Veronica’s heavy breathing from the bedroom. She was obviously asleep and I looked at my phone, lying on the computer desktop. Gaynor had said, “Call me anytime you can.”

I picked up the phone and scrolled through my contacts to GR. I paused, my finger poised to press “call.” The time display showed 10:32. That must count as anytime, I mused.

Then, I shook my head and switched off the phone. No rush, Richard, show some patience. After thirty-two years, you can surely wait another couple of days. I rose wearily from my chair and padded along the landing to the bedroom where I would spend another night sleeping alongside but not with my wife.