It was New Year’s Eve, and despite my reservations, I had ended up at a party to see the New Year in.

Ever since my wife of thirty years marriage had died, I hated New Year’s Eve. We had always been the ones to host the celebration of saying goodbye to the old year and welcoming in the new. So this night in particular brought back memories in a way that I had thought I had long since got over. I had really, and had moved on in my life, even having had a number of dates in the last couple of years, and on a few occasions, had the delights of making love once more. I’m not over-sentimental, and of course each time it happened it was different, but I had expected it to be, so no issues there.

I usually refused to go to parties now on this inauspicious day, but my best friend and his wife were so insistent that it would have been very churlish to have refused. So I set off, a bunch of flowers in my hand for my hostess, and a bottle of fifteen year old scotch in the other for my host.

Fortunately the house of my friends was within walking distance, and I arrived a little after 8:00 pm, the weather being pleasantly benign for this time of year. I knocked on the door and Jenny answered it, a quick hug and kiss as I entered, and the required “ooh” and another kiss when I gave her the flowers. Geoff, her husband, came out of the kitchen also to greet me and his eyes lit up when he saw the bottle that I had brought. I told him to keep it for later, it was better than champagne, so would be a good midnight toast.

Then it was into the mass of people already there. Some I knew as they also lived nearby, and some I didn’t. Most were couples, a few unattached men and a few women also, and we made the usual small talk that goes on at such parties.

Jenny had somehow pressed her 15 yr old daughter into waitress service, so the drink and snacks kept flowing. I stuck to beer at this stage of the evening, and I was glad to be able to request adequate supplies of Speckled Hen, my favourite draught bitter, though these were bottled and a little different, but still good.

About 11:00, Geoff cleared some of the small tables away, creating a space in the centre of their large lunge, and pushed the sofas back against the walls, so that people could dance. This was the last straw in my book, and though I hadn’t really had enough to drink to bring on the real miseries, this reminded me so much of the parties of old that I wandered into the kitchen and found the bottle of scotch that I had brought, still unopened on the counter. I grabbed a cut glass tumbler and poured myself a hefty measure, and was just about to take a first sip when a voice asked me to pour another one.

I turned round to find myself being addressed by a somewhat glamorous lady. My first impression was of someone blonde, blue eyed, with a good figure and a smile that lit her up. It was the smile really that registered, and I found myself telling her that it was good to find someone who appreciated a good scotch.

I poured her a smaller measure than that which I had given myself, and asked if she wanted any water. She shuddered and told me that she referred it straight, and that good scotch does not need diluting. There was something in her eye when she said that which resonated with me, but the moment passed.

I hadn’t seen her before that evening and must have missed her earlier in the evening. I told her this, and she replied that she had only just arrived, but as most of the rest of the party seemed occupied on the dance floor, she thought she’d get a drink to start with. She told me that she wasn’t really going to come, but as the evening wore on, she had got so bored with her own company that she thought anything had to be better.

She is frank, I thought, and we started talking. She was called Georgie, which was funny as my name is George, and we giggled about that, and whether our hosts had made a mistake in asking two Georges. It turned out that she was three years from a very nasty divorce, and though I didn’t ask for details, I got them. She told me that her ex-husband had been a very successful banker, and their life had been wonderful, apart from finding that he was not exactly impotent, in fact far from it, but he “fired blanks as she put it.

They had travelled extensively, ate at the best restaurants, and had a lovely house in the better part of Surrey. After finding that they couldn’t have children, she had continued working, and was now a partner in a major valuation and auction house in London. Their work had often got in the way of finding enough time to be together, and they had drifted, not exactly apart, but just not gone forward. It was when she had found out by accident that he had a mistress in London, and had had her for many years, set up in a luxury apartment in the Barbican. They had been together in that way for years, many years before the discovery of their inability to have children. It was this that brought the matter to a head, if it had been as a result of their disappointment, she might have understood better, but as it was, he was a simple double-timer.

Well, actually, she said, as the divorce proceedings unfolded, it wasn’t double, or even treble, for the previous twenty years he had set up four mistresses in various major financial centres.

Now it was my turn, and I described my life, my job initially as a teacher of biology, and then my change of careers to be in medicine proper, and my rise to be a senior consultant in Oncology. I then told her about the twist of fate that happened when my wife, a teacher of history, was diagnosed with a particularly aggressive form of breast cancer, which I was unable to stop. I had felt so useless, unable to cure the woman I loved and had grown together with, and had children with.

She asked me how long it had been, and nodded when I replied that it was nearly five years.

There was a silence. Neither of us wanted to break it, it was just appropriate as if we were honouring our past in some way.

I broke it saying that we couldn’t stay in the kitchen al evening, so maybe she would like to dance. We did so, not badly, though I am not a good dancer, but something in me wanted to show Georgie that I still could cut it. She must have been a great dancer, as she enhanced my poor skills and I think we looked pretty good together. She certainly felt good in my arms, her slim body pressing all the right bits against me, and by the time we had got to our third dance, a slow one, it was as though we had known each other for years. We just fitted, and I think she felt this as well, as she rested her head on my shoulder in the slow waltz.

Then the music got louder and more frenetic, so we left the gyrating throng, and I asked her if she wanted more Scotch.

She looked at me, and told me that no, she just wanted me.

I looked at her, my voice just not working for a moment as I absorbed what she was saying.

Then taking her hand, I pulled her towards me, and we kissed for the first time. Her lips were soft, but her tongue active as it met mine and danced in and out of my mouth and fought mine as I tasted her. Her body was pressed hard against, I could feel the fullness of her breasts against my chest, and the rise of her mount against my hardening cock.

We broke for air, and said that we shouldn’t be here, and that my place is not far.

She said her’s was closer.

Hand in hand we left, ignoring everyone else, and she led me to her house which was at the end of the street. Inside she led me upstairs to her bedroom, and we once again kissed. Slowly we undressed each other. Her breasts were as full as they had felt when pressed against me, and her waist slim, her hips slim and her legs beautiful. The last piece of clothing I removed were her white lace panties, down over her knees, and off her feet.

I took each foot in turn and kissed and sucked her toes, before slowly moving up her legs to her knees, bending them and kissing behind them, and then working my lips and tongue up to the soft skin of the inside of her thighs. She smelled wonderful, and I almost lost where I was but collected myself and worked up he rbody, kissing the curve of her stomach, dipping my tongue into her belly button, and then finally cupping her breasts and sucking and licking each in turn.

By now she was moaning and twisting, her hands working on my body, finally slipping my boxers of my hips and taking my hardness between her two hands, gently rolling it between them. Twisting round I left her breasts and parting her thighs with my hands dipped down to lick and suck her juices, which were flowing well by now. She tasted as great as she had smelled, and to my delight she had a large clit that I could just take between my lips and lick.

Just after I had done that, her lips encircled my cock head, and her tongue worked its wonders across my glans. Then slowly she worked my length deeper into her mouth. It was heaven, and she had mastered her gag reflex well, as when she took me deeper I felt her throat grip me with hardly any pause.

But my attention to her pussy and clit stopped much more action from her as I tipped her over the edge and she orgasmed with a cry that warmed my heart. I kept her there for a short while, until she pushed my head away, telling me now more, no more, not now.

I moved back alongside her, and she continued to work my cock with her hands as we kissed. She told me that she always found her taste on a lover’s lips to be so erotic, and I kissed her again, letting her suck on my tongue as I probed her mouth.

Then she climbed on top of me, and stroking my cock head on her silky pussy lips, finally sank down and impaled herself on my length. She felt wonderful, nice and tight, and she still had good muscular control, as we made love slowly at first, and then faster and faster until she threw her head back and cried out again, and I let myself go, my pulses ejecting hot threads of my sperm deep into her.

It was then that we both heard and saw the bangs and flashes of fireworks through the bedroom window, and various neighbours celebrated the New Year.

Georgie said to me “Well, our New Year got off to a bang as well, didn’t it!”.

“It certainly did, but why stop with just the first bang”, and pulled her close again.

This time we made love very, very, slowly, tasting every part of her, and she me, fingers stroking, probing, and to my delight I found that she had no real inhibitions at all. Naked as we were on her bed, we explored, telling each other what was good for us and what not so good. I was feeling her butt, squeezing and her responding to the touches, and I was just a little apprehensive about going too much further, but she didn’t mind. I was parting her buttocks and pushing them together, when al of a sudden rather than clenching her buttocks, she raised her bum off the bed, and squirmed her open crack against my hand, and groaned with pleasure.

I needed no more encouragement, and started stroking the depth between her buttock, and drawing up the wetness from her pussy to lubricate my tracing fingers, which were now circling the hard ring of her asshole.

I guess it was when she felt herself ready that she turned away from me, our bodies spooning, and her hand grasped my rigid length, and wiggled herself so it was pressing against her anus. Then it was my turn to exert at first slight pressure against it, then our bodies working together to close and press me harder and harder against her. She lifted her leg up, and I felt her tight ring give way, and my next push was easy as I slid deep into her rectum.

She moaned and pushed back even harder, and whispered to me that she had always liked it this way. I said I was glad she did, and slid my arms around her, one on a breast and hard nipple, the other going to her pussy and clit. She covered that hand with hers and guided me to her best pleasure, as my cock ploughed its furrow in and out of her hot tight hole.

Having emptied my balls only a n hour ago, of that, I knew that it might take a while before I was going to be ready to do it again, but at least I was had, fuelled by the eroticism of Georgie, who by now was losing herself to the rhythmic stroking of my cock into her body, and the enhanced pleasure that she was feeling from her nipple, firmly gripped between my fingers and her clit, now stroked round and round, making shapes around it.

By now we were not spooning, she was on all 4s, her head low on the pillow, her as sin the air as I stroked harder and deeper into her, and as I felt myself stirring, I grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. She screamed with delight, and came again, her spasms finally finishing me off, and I savoured the delight of spending my semen in her asshole. As I pulled out, some of my cream escaped and dribbled down between her legs. I bent down and sucked some up, then turned her over and kissed her, the juices I had sucked up now shared between us, her taste and my taste, all mixed together.

Kissing me again, deeply, she told me that she hadn’t thought that she would find someone who understood and enjoyed her needs. I told her that she was delicious in every way, and I wanted her again, in every way. She laughed and told me I was a dirty old man. Old, I admitted, but dirty? No, I said, nothing really is dirty, if you are open to what our bodies can really feel and enjoy. Dirty, I went on, is only in straight-laced people’s minds. Once more she kissed me, and said that going to that party was the best decision she had made for years. I just kissed her back.

We then slept, and woke late for me, around 9:00 am. She turned to me and smiled, and came into my arms, and me in her once again, slow and sensual, just simple and nice, timing it so we came together.

“Happy New Year,” I whispered to her as we cuddled.

“Yes, a very Happy New Year.”