I returned home from my trip to find out that I had a dentist appointment scheduled for the next day.

At the dentist’s office, while waiting for the hygienist to call me, I picked up the local newspaper that was lying on a table and happened to come across the obituary section as I perused the articles. A man I knew for most of my life had passed away a few days ago. The funeral for Mr. L. would be the next day I noted.

After the dental visit, I went to my place and reminisced about Mr. and Mrs. L.

Mr. L. and his wife moved into a house two doors from my parents’ house. They were in their early forties, nice folk, with an Italian last name I had a hard time with, so I called them Mr. and Mrs. L.

I’d mow their grass or do odd jobs for them. Sometimes I’d go with Mr. L. to his shop if I had nothing better to do during my summer days or after school, until I went off to join the airline industry.

Mr. L. was an automobile mechanic who owned his own shop, while Mrs. L. was a homemaker. They had no children and they took a liking to me. I suppose I was a substitute kid for them.

Mr. L. was a two-tour Vietnam veteran and served as a crew chief in U.S. Air Force back shops. He served twelve long years, as he called them. He told me he had enough and got out.

I asked him once about his duties while he was over there and he said he worked on anything motorized, including some airplane engines or turbines that came off what he called C-130’s and some other aircraft.

Another time, I asked him if he saw any combat action. He laughed and told me that was usual for the other military branches, although he said sometimes N.V.A. mortars were fired at the parked aircraft and one time a mortar round bounced down a runway and exploded near a hangar.

Mrs. L. was his high school sweetheart, and they married a week before he was shipped off to boot camp, then his M.O.S. training, and onto Vietnam.

Mr. L. was average in build, with dark hair that had some grey in it, a bushy mustache, and if he didn’t shave for two days, he’d have a heavy beard. He had tanned skin and when he wore short-sleeved shirts, his muscular arms stood out.

Mrs. L. was about the same height as her husband, five foot ten or so, with blonde hair and blue eyes. I’m sure if she wore a bikini on the beach, she would draw a lot of eyes.

Mostly Mrs. L. wore jeans and some sort of blouse that covered her large breasts, but nothing too sexy.

They both had fun personalities and it was easy to see they were very much in love with each other.

Several times, when I was inside of their house, I would look at the framed pictures from their wedding or of them hanging out somewhere. I thought that Mrs. L was foxy looking. (How many of us remember that term?)

Early one morning, I went to the shop with Mr. L. and assisted him with some work he needed help with. He was a one-man owner/tech, and his business was beginning to pick up.

Although I wasn’t technically hired on, he did pay me for my work.

We finished the job early and he was happy about the profit he made. After the customer picked up the car, Mr. L. called his wife and asked her to bring us lunch.

About thirty minutes later, Mrs. L. showed up holding a six pack of beer, and a brown grocery bag containing paper plates, potato chips, and several sandwiches.

She was wearing sunglasses and a T-shirt that had an aftermarket car parts manufacturer’s advertisement logo.

And to my surprise: no brassiere.

Her shorts barely covered her ass, I noticed while trying not to be obvious.

It didn’t work, as she caught me and smiled as she set out the lunch on a small card table.

“This is a celebration for your birthday!” Mr. L. laughed as he opened a beer and handed it to his wife, then another beer for me.

I'd just turned eighteen the day before.

The lunch, beer and conversation got interesting, and Mr. L. teased his wife about some proposed events later that week.

“Is that a promise, Vince?” she teased back.

I felt embarrassed and Mrs. L. noticed and winked at me.

After we finished our lunch, Mrs. L. gathered the bottles and picked up the paper plates, then put them in the trash. Then she asked her husband if he was finished for the day. He said he had a customer due and that job would likely last until the evening.

“OK, do you mind if I take your assistant with me? I have something I need him to do for me.”

“Nah. Take him,” he said as he stood and turned toward the garage.

I was surprised but I didn’t say anything as I followed Mrs. L. to her car.

She drove rather fast back to their house and told me to come inside as we got out of her car.

We didn’t get inside very far, when Mrs. L. turned suddenly, put her arms around my neck and kissed me.

“This is your birthday gift from me,” she said as she took my hand and led me towards the hallway.

She peeled off the T-shirt, exposing her large and firm D breasts and pink nipples. I couldn’t resist taking them in my hands and she kissed me again.

Then, Mrs. L. whispered, “Come with me.”

She led me into the bathroom, turned on the water in the stand-up shower, then dropped her shorts. I thought at first that she wasn’t wearing panties, but they were skin-colored thongs.

Mrs. L.’s body would make most women her age envious, and probably many younger women, too.

Her pubic hair was a light brown color and trimmed.

She looked at me standing there and sarcastically asked if I wanted to shower with my clothes on.

Then she stepped under the cascading water and washed off some as I undressed.

I was met in the shower with more deep kissing and her hands stroking my hard cock.

“You have a nice size. I’ve imagined that you could be larger than most,” Mrs. L. said in a low, heavy tone.

Then she knelt and began to suck on my cock.

I put my hands on her head as she took all I had into her throat.

I had a girlfriend who would suck on my cock sometimes, but she never let me fuck her. Mrs. L. took all my cock in her mouth, and her throat seemed to tighten as she took me deep.

I don’t know how I didn’t shoot my load, but I managed to make it out of the shower, while trying to keep my composure, as Mrs. L. dried me and herself off with a couple of towels.

Mrs. L.  brought me into the spare bedroom, lay on the bed and pulled me down beside her and began to kiss me and stroke my cock again.

It didn’t take long before I was on top of her, missionary-style and began to fuck her.

She had good muscle control and I didn’t last long before I unloaded into her warm wet pussy.

As I lay there, catching my breath, Mrs. L. kissed me, then got up and went into the bathroom. She returned a moment later, wrapped in a towel.

“I hope you enjoyed your birthday present from us.” She smiled as she sat on the bed and watched me dress.

“What about…”

Mrs. L. smiled. “Vince won’t mind. Some days, he comes home too tired for sex.”

Well back to the present.

The morning of the funeral, I dressed for the occasion and drove to the funeral home.

I quietly walked in the parlor, where several people were standing around talking. I spotted Mrs. L. standing beside the casket, chatting with someone. She remained attractive, especially in the black dress she had on.

When Mrs. L. saw me, she waved me over and hugged me tightly as I met her.

As she held me close, she said, “I’ve missed you and I would like for you to come over after this is finished. That is, if you have time.”

I smiled and told her that I didn’t have to return to work for a few days and I’d be happy to assist her.

Thankfully, the funeral was over before noon, and the guests left Mrs. L.’s house around two hours later.

A relative of Mrs. L. and I helped clean up and after the relative left, Mrs. L. and I sat at the kitchen table.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t know Mr. L. was sick. I would have dropped by more often when I wasn’t working,” I tried to explain.

She sighed, “Parker, he recently found out that he had cancer. It happened so quickly,”

Her eyes teared up, and she began to sob. I stood to comfort her, and she met me, hugging me and letting her emotions go as I held her.

After a minute or two, she stepped away, wiped her eyes and thanked me for being there.

“Vince always thought highly of you, Parker. He told me that you reminded him of someone he knew over there, when he was…” Mrs. L. started to sob again. “Over in Vietnam. Damn, that’s where he got the cancer from.”

A side note: If some of you remember, many guys came back home from over there, alive but dying and didn’t know it.

Mrs. L. composed herself, fixed herself a glass of tea, then sat close beside me.

“Parker, I’ve thought about your birthday.”

I must have blushed, because she started to laugh. “Vince never said anything about that, although he must have known what I did.”

“I sometimes think about that,” I mumbled, embarrassed.

“Parker, don’t be embarrassed. I read awhile back that older women tend to go for younger guys because it makes us feel young again. I agree with it.”

Mrs. L. smiled, stood up and hugged me again. “I have to get out of these clothes, and I need to take a warm bath.”

Then, she turned to go to her bedroom. Before she made it to the door, she turned around.

“Parker, why don’t you go home, change clothes and bring us back something to eat later.”