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The Legacy, Chapter 2: The Storm

"In a storm of their own creation, the wanton beauty of the younger woman drives him on"

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In her bedroom, at the foot of the bed, they stopped. He took her in his arms again and they kissed, and she was very aware of the heat of his erect cock where it was pinned between them, against her stomach. His hands slid down her back to grip her buttocks, holding her to him for a moment, and when they separated he brought one hand around to cup her sex, aware of the moist, intense heat of her through her lace panties.

Beth thought he’d strip them off of her now, but he didn’t, not immediately. First he slipped his hand inside the waistband and down, until his fingers encountered the smoothness of her bare mound, and when she felt the shudder of arousal run through him, she wondered if perhaps he’d never experienced a smoothly landscaped woman before. It gave her a spark of arousal to think maybe that was true, that she was, in that small way, perhaps something unique in his long experience.

She was watching his face as his finger parted her wet lips and slid into the hot, slick softness of her aroused sex, and for just a moment she saw the young man he used to be, that same sense of wonder and excitement of his very first time, that profound sense of awe that perhaps one of God’s great mysteries had just been revealed. It was a fleeting, ephemeral moment, and she simply loved him all the more for it. She’d never known him as a young man, of course – in even her earliest memories he was in his forties - but she was so very grateful for that brief, momentary glimpse of what he had once been!

As his finger touched her, barely entering her tight sheath and then moving back to gently massage the hard nub of her aroused clitoris, she pressed herself into his hand, demanding more. In a matter of seconds her first small orgasm raced through her body, and she cried out and sagged against him, her knees weak as she came. She allowed herself a second, shuddering and biting his collarbone as a slightly more intense climax shook her, but then she disengaged from him, her hand on his arm to pull him away.

She gently bit his nipple before she looked up at him. “My panties, Henry…take them off of me.” They looked at each other for a moment, knowing that each step forward made the possibility of backing away more remote, more difficult. The soft yellow light of the flickering kerosene lamp within its crystal chimney kissed them with a kind and gentle light, and in that moment each thought the other the most beautiful, most perfect thing they’d ever seen.

He dropped to his knees in front of her and slid his fingers into the waistband of her tiny peach panties, slowly peeling them over her hips and then down those long, graceful legs. When she stepped free of them he crushed the tiny bit of fabric in his hand and held it to his face, breathing the heady female scent of her arousal and causing his already magnificently erect cock to swell and extend still more, becoming hard as stone. He bent forward and kissed her smooth mound, and allowed his tongue to gently probe the front of her slick crevice, taking his first taste of her nectar.

When he rose to his feet, she put her fingers over the beautiful purple, glistening head of his cock, his foreskin fully withdrawn, and felt his extreme hardness. She laughed softly, and said, “Oh my, Henry!”

He looked at her, in awe of her beauty at that moment as never before, even though he’d always thought her beautiful, but… “Beth, we don’t have to do this; it’s not too late to stop.”

She looked at him for just a moment, remembering the joyous young man he’d allowed her to glimpse only moments before, and she laughed again, saying, “Yes, Henry, it is,” before she pushed him backward onto the bed!

He tried to catch himself, but with the bed pressed to the backs of his legs all he could do was fall back, and almost before he settled down from his first bounce she was on him like a cat, straddling him and pressing her slippery pussy to his cock. When she reached back and seized his thick cock and guided it into her, he gasped at the feel of her hot sheath engulfing his sensitive cock head, and when she rode down him, taking his entire length into her body, his fingers gripped her thighs. “God…Beth!”

Her eyes were wide, her lips parted as she sucked in a shaky breath, staring down into his warm eyes. “Jesus, Henry…you’re so big!” She could feel his girth, especially, stretching and filling her, and the first ripples of a massive orgasm began to build inside of her, fluttering, turning her insides to jelly. It seemed to slowly grow and come together, and she began to move on him, slowly and then faster, her pace quickening. When he gripped her hips and thrust his iron cock up into her the swelling orgasm burst like a supernova in her body, and she cried out his name and ground herself against him, feeling every last bit of his thick cock deep inside of her! “Ohh, fuck…Henry..yes, yes! Oh my god!”

He felt her pussy contract on him, and then begin a series of pulses and squeezes, her pelvic muscles closing her already tight pussy into a slick, grasping, gripping sheath, and he used every bit of willpower he possessed to keep from emptying his pent-up arousal into her. He wanted – needed – to last longer, to enjoy this incredible, magical moment and not let it end too soon, and somehow he held himself in check. As her orgasm reached its crescendo and began to wane she collapsed onto his chest, her body limp and sheened with sweat, gasping for air.

He let her lay still for a brief time, her body recovering and her jangling nerve endings settling down, and then began a slow, easy thrusting motion, moving just his hips as he pushed deeply into her slender body with each upward thrust. Soon she began to move with him, meeting his thrusts with equal enthusiasm, and when he again felt his orgasm begin to boil dangerously close to the surface he stopped her, and held her still, deeply impaled on his throbbing sex. The squeezing contractions of her vagina nearly unmanned him, but he gasped and held on, and when Beth understood what he was telling her – that he was about to lose control but wasn’t yet ready to, or willing - she allowed herself to be lifted off of him, his thick cock slipping free of her maddening embrace.

With his hands he pulled her closer, and she walked on her knees until her wet, willing pussy was over his face, and when she lowered herself to his lips he again eagerly tasted her, the sweet nectar of her arousal flooding his senses. She began to move on him, sliding her slick sex against his willing lips and tongue, and he lost himself in her, and when she came, pressing down on him, he wrapped his arms around her thighs and held her to his lips in order to feel every tiny tremor of her orgasm, his tongue busy on her engorged clit.

She rode it through, pinching and tugging at her own sensitive nipples, a long, rolling orgasm that seemed to be in rhythm with a long, low, distant peal of thunder, and when it began to finally wane she lifted off his mouth, allowing him to again breathe. As she moved back his hard cock nestled against her wetness, and she fell forward onto his chest, her lips meeting his. She tasted herself, the sweet, coppery tang of her sex, and their tongues tangled, and then she felt the big, blunt tip of his cock probe her opening, and push, and he was in her again, stretching and driving deep.

She pushed back, taking him, impaling herself fully, and this time when the thunder crashed and the lightning lit the room, and the electric power of their orgasms climbed to a crescendo, neither stopped or held back anything. He gripped her waist, driving himself deep inside of her, and she arched her back and thrust onto him, crying out, cursing him, begging for more, thanking God, the sheer intensity of it astonishing both of them. When she felt him pulse and strain, filling her with his seed, her body shuddered and closed on him, squeezing his cock, milking him dry, the spasms of her own orgasm draining him.

Afterward she lay limp on his chest, both of them breathing heavily, sated and exhausted. His thick cock, beginning to soften to that heavy, rubbery stage, remained inside of her, although a small trickle of white semen dribbled out onto his heavy but satisfied balls. Her face was buried in his neck, both of their bodies reflecting the lamplight off a thin sheen of sweat. When she finally began to catch her breath she put her lips to his ear and whispered, “Good God, Henry! You were amazing…magnificent!”

He didn’t answer for a long time, satisfied with silently stroking her sweat-sheened back and caressing her long, shimmering, blond hair. When he did finally speak, it was with considerable wonder in his voice…but some regret. “Sweet Beth. That was…incredible. But it shouldn’t have happened.”

She laughed softly, not raising her head. “Wrong, Henry; it had to happen. There was no stopping it.”

He laughed too, albeit more ruefully. “No, at some point that was true! But it never should have reached that point.”

She rose up, and they looked into each other’s eyes for a moment in the dim yellow light of the flickering wick, and when lightning flashed, lighting up the room, and a huge clap of thunder shook the house almost simultaneously, Beth didn’t jump of cringe at all. She pressed her finger to his lips. “Ssshhh, Henry; let’s just accept it for what it was. No regrets, no second thoughts, no over-analyzing it…okay?”

He nodded silently and simply held her, enjoying the soft, warm feel of her young, female, almost-feline body against his, creating a memory of the way she felt, and of the scent of her in his nostrils and the taste of her on his tongue. Soon – too soon – he felt himself slip from her tight but tender pussy in a small gush of cum, and when he did, when he was no longer buried in her heat, she slid off and laid alongside him, nestled into his body with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her.

She fell asleep quickly in the safety of his arms, her fear of the storm forgotten as the lightning continued to flash and the sound of thunder both near and far rolled across the sky. He lay awake somewhat longer, noting that the wind was finally lessening, but eventually the warmth of her, his powerful sexual release, and the ensuing exhaustion overtook him. He turned down the wick, extinguishing the lamp, and let the slow, even sounds of her breathing lull him to sleep.

She awoke some time later, momentarily disoriented by his presence, but quickly remembering. She listened for a moment; her head on his chest, Beth soon realized that he was likely awake as well. “Henry?” Softly, in case she was mistaken.

“Yes.”

“You’re awake.”

“Yes, for a little while now.” Another band of stormy weather was moving across them now, the third, or possibly fourth of the powerful storm front’s waves of violence, each slightly less intense than the one that preceded it.

Beth raised her head and looked at him, and in the next bright blue flash of electrical light she saw that his eyes were wet, his cheeks tracked with tears. “Henry, are you all right?”

“Yes, Beth, I’m fine.”

Glancing at the clock on the night stand, she understood; it was three twenty-one, a few brief minutes more than three years since the moment that his wife, Mary, had slipped silently away. She laid her head back on his chest and put her arm across him, hugging him. “Henry, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s all right; being here, with you…it was easier. More of my memories of her are happy than sad these days, and with each passing year, but on this night… This one damned night.”

“I understand, and it’s all right. I’m glad you’re here, with me, if it helps even a little.”

He laughed softly, barely more than a whisper. “In truth, only a part of these tears are for my Mary; the rest…what you’ve given me, Beth… I’d almost forgotten. It was so sweet, so life-affirming. You continue to amaze me, as you always have. There’s a great deal of joy in these tears as well.”

“It was nothing.”

He laughed, stronger this time. “Nothing?! It was a gift, Beth, an amazing, generous, incredible gift. You’re an amazing young woman, and you’ve given me this incredible gift, tonight of all nights.”

“I’m just happy I could be with you. It’s an honor, Henry, to share this night.”

“Your gift eased my pain, girl. More than I’ll ever be able to explain.”

She smiled, and then laughed softly, her head on his broad chest. “I know they say it’s better to give than to receive, but I’ve never received as much pleasure from giving any gift as I did from that one! My god, Henry, it was wonderful; I think if that was a gift it was mostly for me!”

“I guess this old dog’s got a few tricks left in him, huh?”

She reached down and took his flaccid sex in her hand, gently holding him. “Old horse, you mean – and not just a one-trick pony, either!” She squeezed him, enjoying the soft weight of his limp cock, and the fact that her fingers barely reached around him – and hadn’t, when he’d been hard! “Henry, please don’t think of tonight as a gift; think of it as a thank you for all the things you’ve given me in my life – including staying with me through this storm! I’d have been just terrified, especially earlier, when it was so bad. As it was, I barely noticed!”

They both laughed, knowing it was true. They’d been so wrapped in each other that the storm had seemed almost insignificant. Her head on his chest and her golden hair strewn wildly across him, she cupped his heavy balls, her fingers touching his thick shaft, and was mildly surprised to feel him begin to swell and harden. “Henry, I’m very impressed! You are quite the stud, my dear friend.”

His hand found her breast, and he began to gently touch her, his fingers pausing on her nipple, enjoying the sensation of it hardening under his touch. “It’s been a very long time for me, Beth. And you’re a beautiful, sensual woman. I’d be very embarrassed if I didn’t respond to you.”

They played then, exploring each other’s bodies, slowly learning all the little spots that earned gasps or soft moans of pleasure when touched. He slid out from beneath her after awhile, and loomed over her instead, taking her pink, jutting nipples into his mouth, each in turn, for some serious tongue-love. She was soon writhing and moaning, and when he began to kiss his way down her stomach, and then lower, approaching her cum-filled and dripping sex, she made no effort to call him off.

When he gently touched her with the tip of his tongue, and she knew that he was tasting her and sampling what they’d made together, she came. It was a small orgasm, driven mostly by the wicked, illicit nature of him going down on her used sex; nobody had ever done that to her before, and she found it deliciously erotic, more than a little forbidden, and intensely arousing.

When he buried his tongue inside of her, lapping at her rich, creamy pussy, she came again, harder, and when he devoured her, his face in her wet folds and his lips and tongue assaulting her sex, she came huge, her back arching as her hips rose to meet him. She eagerly thrust her dripping pussy against his willing face, and he just as eagerly lapped up the fluids her body pulsed out, swallowing even as he did so. Her hand was on his head, holding him there, encouraging him – a totally unnecessary gesture!

As the intensity of her last major orgasm began to diminish he rose over her, moving up between her legs until he could drive his hard, engorged cock once again deep inside of her, and she cried out and her back arched, her pussy rising to meet his thrust. He drove deep as she pushed against him, neither slowing until he was fully encased in her tight heat, his balls crushed to her ass. She could feel that she was about to come again, so close, every impulse in her body rushing to her molten center, and then she climaxed, the wave breaking. “Ohh fuck…Henry, god yes, yes!”

Her voice was deep, almost guttural; a growl between clenched teeth, and it drove him. He fucked her hard and fast for as long as he sensed she needed it, maybe a few minutes, and she came again, and then he slowed into an even, steady, slow rhythm that allowed her to gently ride the backside of her powerful orgasms, to slowly slide down and down, her entire body bathed in the slowly waning intensity of her pleasure, fully satiated, powerfully affected.

He made love to her then – because he did love her, this beautiful woman that had barely been a sweet, blushing teenager when he’d turned fifty, and he knew that she loved him back. For Beth it was something unique, a deep, new, and abiding kind of love for a man she’d seemingly loved her whole life – and yet it was so very different from the love she felt for her husband! She’d have been hard-pressed to say why it was different, or how, but she knew it was; yet it was no less sweet, no less profound, and certainly valued no less.

There was a bittersweet aspect to this new knowledge, because she saw no way that it could continue - and if it did, no way that it could end well - but she knew she was powerless to change things. It would be what it would be, and she was pervaded by a sense of destiny, that only the character of the people involved could affect the outcome for better or worse. She realized even then, even as she and Henry still made love, that it was something utterly out of her control; she knew, with absolute certainty at that moment, that unknown forces strong and intractable controlled their destiny.

Their bodies found a rhythm, hers rising to meet his thrusts, his pace matched to her sounds, to her needs, and she came, and then again a short time later. As she sensed his increasing pace and the swelling hardness of his imminent climax she came one more time, pushing him over the edge, and for the second time that night he spilled all of his pent-up need and arousal into her sweet body. It made him feel like a man again, in ways he hadn’t for several years, ways he’d never expected to experience again.

After, when her final orgasm had waned and his cock had begun to soften, he collapsed on her, most of his weight supported on his knees and elbows, but some on her. She put her arms around him, and they found each other’s mouths in the darkness, their kisses tender now, sweet, no longer urgent.

He soon pulled away and looked down at her in the brief and intermittent flickers of lightning, which continued unabated. He caressed her face, moving a lock of her golden hair which had fallen onto her forehead and across one eye. “Beth…”

She put her finger to his lips. “Ssshhh, Henry. You’re trying to do it again. Trust me; I enjoyed that at least as much as you did.”

He was silent for a long moment, content to hold her and to breathe the soft feminine scent of her body, and the richer, fuller scent of their lovemaking. He bent and kissed her cheek, and then her throat and her chest, the tops of her breasts. “Beth, I don’t regret what we’ve done, the gift you’ve given me; any man would be a fool or a liar if he said he did. I do regret what I’ve done to Mr. Robert. He’s a fine man, and he deserves better from me…from both of us, Beth. He doesn’t deserve this; he’s never done anything but love and adore you, and he’s a fine and dear friend to me.”

He moved off of her then, his thick, flaccid cock slipping out of her, a thick and copious flow of his semen running out and down the crevice of her sex and then her bottom, soaking into the sheets. He stretched out alongside of her and gathered her into his arms, her firm, slender body spooning naturally into the curve of his much larger frame, her sweet little ass nestled against his limp, wet sex. He engulfed one of her breasts with his big hand, and held it reverently.

They were silent for a long time then, lying awake and thinking about what they’d done; the sin and the ramifications, so much easier to think about once the urgent, heated moments of passion and need had passed and the violent storm no longer battered the house, driving them together.

When Beth finally spoke, her voice was low and soft, barely above a whisper. “He can never know, Henry. Never. I love Robert with all my heart, and if I ever hurt him in this way it would kill me. This is between you and me, and we have to be very sure it stays that way.”

He nodded. “Yes.” A simple word, but also a promise, and she knew she could trust him fully, that his discretion and sense of honor would require him to keep their secret.

She nestled back into him, enjoying the heat and the rawboned, angular strength of his body. “I’m weak, Henry; I love two men. Two brilliant, wonderful, incredible, sexy men, and I don’t know what to do about that.” She fell silent, and he held her. Soon, she went on. “I love you both so very differently in some ways, but so much the same in others. It’s confusing for me, Henry; it’s not an easy thing for me, feeling the way I do about both of you.”

He was deeply moved by her little speech, by her admission - and he shared her confusion, albeit to a lesser degree; he knew he had no right to feel about her the way he did, but he recognized that he was utterly powerless to change it. “I have no answers for you, Beth; I wish I did, that there was some bit of wisdom that the years had given me, but there’s not. I love you too, and I have no idea how I should try to deal with that.”

She reached back and ran her hand down his side until it rested on his hip and then left it there, enjoying touching him. “Well, we’ve been around each other all these years without any issues; I suppose we simply continue to behave as we always have. The fact that we’ve done this, that we’ve shared what we have…it should only make us closer, don’t you think?”

He chuckled. “I think there’s no question about that! The question is whether it will change the way we look at each other or treat each other in a way that Robert might notice or wonder about.”

They both thought about that, about how their long relationship might now be changed. Neither could find it in themselves to feel badly about what they’d done, beyond the deep guilt of knowing they’d made a beloved husband and a dear friend a cuckold. That was something they each had to deal with, and they were silent for a long time as they struggled with those thoughts.

Beth heard him sigh, and then a rueful chuckle. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, really. It’s not funny, exactly, but there’s precedence for this. For what happened here tonight, with us. It’s almost as if history works in a never-ending circle, and things just come back around.”

“What do you mean?” She wriggled back into him, pressing herself tightly to his body, his lips near her ear. She’d spent many happy hours of her life listening to his stories, and the many little bits and facts he’d discovered about their families and their history; she sensed another now, and was eager to hear it.

He began: “Well, I don’t have all the facts yet; I’m still digging. I only know what I do, in fact, because of your Grandfather Alfred – your third-great grandfather that we talked about earlier, the family patriarch during the Civil War years. If he hadn’t continued to provide an education for all of the children, my ancestors would likely have been illiterate, and there would be no record at all.”

“Record of what, Henry?”

He laughed again.

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“Well, it appears that your Grandfather Alfred and one of my ancestors from way back then might have been a hot and heavy item for a number of years after the war ended. Not unlike us, apparently, except that he was white and she was black.”

She was silent for several seconds, thinking about that. “It wasn’t…he didn’t force her – you know, force himself on her, because of their positions, or status…?”

He shook his head. “No, not from what I can tell. It appears that they cared very much for each other. And this was apparently after the war had ended, so she was no longer a slave, although she still worked for him.” He paused for a moment. “You know about Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemmings?”

“Some, yes; they had a relationship that spanned many years – he may have even fathered several of her children, right?”

“Yes, exactly; this seems to have been a similar situation, except there’s not a lot recorded about it. Hints and a little innuendo in old journals and diaries; people didn’t speak openly about such things back then.”

She laughed. “Or now, for the most part.”

He chuckled. “True. Your great grandmother – Alfred’s wife, Elsa - was very ill for a number of years before she died; an invalid in most respects. Apparently the marital obligations of a good wife went unfulfilled because of her illness, while Alfred was still a healthy, strapping, virile man.”

Beth laughed. “Listen to you! You’re saying it just like they would have back then – ‘marital obligations’, and ‘strapping, virile man’ – you do paint a picture!”

He laughed along with her. “It’s the way the journals read. They also indicate that my ancestor, my third-great grandmother, Charlotte - and I quote here; ‘took good care of Alfred and provided for his desires and his manly needs’. To me that sounds like your old grandpa was getting him a little brown sugar!”

She laughed. “Henry, that’s awful! What a thing to say!”

He was laughing too. “Yes, well, it seems there was a bit of hanky-panky going on back in the wool bloomers days – and yes, Charlotte was also married at the time, so…” He shook his head again. “Amazing what you can find in these old writings; I wish I had more than the few that I have. But also, about that time, she gave birth to a couple of light-skinned, grey-eyed children, when all of the family prior to then had been dark and had brown eyes.”

“So you think Alfred may have fathered children – kids that were raised in your family?”

“Yes, my dear – it appears that there may be a white man in our woodpile.”

She laughed again, a bit shocked at his cavalier attitude about it. “That’s another awful thing to say! You seem to think it’s kind of funny. It doesn’t bother you?”

“Bother me? No. I have far more important things to worry about than the sexual proclivities of my distant and deceased ancestors. Like how I let a gorgeous, sexy, young married woman seduce me into her bed and steal yet another big piece of my heart, for example.”

She touched him. “Henry…you do realize that this might mean that we’re actually related.”

He nodded. “Yes, possibly – but way back, generations ago, and barely. Not enough to make what we did any worse.”

She shook her head. “No, I know that; what I mean is that your name – Pettigrew – it might be legitimate. You could actually be a Pettigrew, not just have that as a name your family took on because of the situation. Wouldn’t that be exciting?”

He shrugged. “I suppose. I’ve always felt that way, so it doesn’t really change things for me.”

“We should get tested – have genetic testing done, to find out!”

“I guess they can do that now, depending on the lineage. You being female and me male will make it more complicated, I think.”

She laughed. “Isn’t that always the way! That complicates things every time, it seems. We should do that, though; it would be so exciting, and I’d love to know!”

He laughed and stroked her hair, enjoying her youthful excitement and enthusiasm. “As you wish; it’s fine with me either way, although it would be an honor to know I shared a few genes with someone like you, someone so beautiful and brilliant and amazing.”

“Henry, you’re so sweet. And a total stud, in case I failed to mention that.”

“I believe you may have mentioned that, but thank you – and right now this old stud needs some rest, because some wild young filly wore him out!”

She slid her hand down between them and found his cock, still thick with post-coital fullness and slightly sticky with their fluids, and she held him. “You go ahead and sleep; I’ll hold onto this, just to keep track of it…and because I love the way it feels.”

“That might make it difficult for me to sleep.”

As it turned out, it didn’t. He was asleep in minutes, and she soon followed, his thick, flaccid penis eventually slipping from her limp fingers.

When she awoke it was full daylight, bright and sunny, the storm a thing of the past. He was gone, but Beth could still smell his masculine scent on the bed, and thought she could smell coffee brewing. She smiled as she slipped out of bed, her thighs and her sex still wet with his semen and more yet inside of her. She was amazed to see that it was almost eight o’clock, late for either of them to sleep.

In the bathroom she peed, and then took a very quick shower, washing herself to remove the traces and scent of their lovemaking, even giving her hair a fast, once-over shampoo. She dried herself and applied deodorant, hesitating only a moment before dabbing on just a trace of cologne, a light, breezy, sexy scent.

At her closet she took out an old shirt that Robert had given her, a French blue, button-down pinpoint oxford on which the collar had become too tight for him. As she turned to slip it on over her nakedness, she saw Henry standing in the doorway, a mug of steaming coffee in each hand, watching her. “Good morning, Henry!” She gave him a radiant smile, utterly at ease in her nudity in front of him, the shirt still in her hand.

“My god, Miss Elizabeth, but you are a beautiful, gorgeous woman!”

She laughed. “Thank you, Henry – but seriously? Miss Elizabeth? After last night?”

He laughed too. “Yes, I’m sorry – Beth. That does sound rather ridiculous now, doesn’t it? I’ll need to break that habit, I suppose.”

She nodded, smiling. “You will. It would be difficult to be intimate with anyone that insists on calling me ‘Miss Elizabeth’, don’t you think?”

He laughed again. “Point taken; I’ll stop, I promise.” He crossed to her, and bent to kiss her before handing off a steaming mug. “A touch of sugar, just the way you like it.”

She took it from him. “Thank you, sir, you’re a wonderful man…and do I smell breakfast cooking?”

He beamed. “You do! Bacon, eggs, biscuits – I took the liberty of breaking open a jar of your fine Muscadine jelly.”

“Simply amazing, Henry; you’re so sweet – how long have you been up?”

“Almost an hour. I showered – I hope you don’t mind…”

“No, of course not! Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You looked so beautiful, and you were sleeping so well. I couldn’t bring myself to – and you needed your rest, it was a very late night.”

He smiled at her, and she returned it, stretching to kiss him again. “It was…and the storm was so loud, and lasted so long!” Still holding the blue shirt in one hand, she slipped the other arm around his waist. “And I had the strangest dreams! I dreamed that some horny, magnificent, insatiable, well-endowed satyr spent half the night ravaging me…it was lovely, such a fun dream.”

He laughed softly. “You do say the damnedest things, Miss El…umm, Beth!”

She laughed. “Why Henry! I do believe you’re blushing!”

He shook his head. “I have no doubt that I am, although I don’t show it like you do! Such talk, from a beautiful young woman’s lips!”

“We both enjoyed it, right? No reason not to talk about it and enjoy it all over again!”

He nodded. “I suppose that’s true – it’s just not something I’m accustomed to. My generation didn’t do that, or at least not in my experience.” He hugged her to his side. “Now, I’ve got to go get the eggs started, and the biscuits will be done in about another five minutes, so if you’d like to slip some clothes on and join me…”

She held the shirt out to him and he took it, turning it and holding it out so that she could slip into the sleeves. Once it was settled on her shoulders she turned back to face him. “There, all set; now I can just go with you.”

“That shirt is a perfect match for your lovely eyes!” He looked at her, the front of the shirt still open, showing her breasts and her smooth sex. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”

She smiled at him. “Thank you, Henry; that’s always wonderful for a woman to hear.” She shrugged. “As long as I’m beautiful to Robert – and to you – that’s all that matters.”

He shook his head. “Not just to us; you’re a beautiful, sexy, desirable woman, Beth…and now come on along, before I burn anything!”

She laughed, following him to the spacious kitchen. The smell of the biscuits in the oven and the bacon in the microwave made her mouth water, and she watched as he started a pan of scrambled eggs, with some cheese and diced peppers and onions stirred in as it began to cook and solidify. As he tended to the eggs, stirring and breaking up the clumps, she poured orange juice, cold from the refrigerator.

The table was already set and waiting as she refilled their coffee mugs from the steaming carafe. “Henry, why did you put out the muscadine jelly? I know you prefer the scuppernong.”

He was in the process of taking the pan of biscuits from the oven. “You only had one jar left of that, but you still have four of the muscadine.”

She laughed. “Henry, that’s silly! We made it to be eaten, so let’s enjoy it!” She crossed to the pantry and retrieved the final jar of scuppernong jelly; the three of them – Henry, Beth, and Robert - had worked together the prior fall, from picking the grapes to crushing them, cooking the juices, and making and bottling the jelly. It had been most of a cool fall Saturday spent at the task, and they had ended up with over twenty jars, made in four batches.

They had more of the muscadine, because the grapes had been easier to come by and more plentiful on the arbors behind the old farmhouse. Still, Henry had insisted that she and Robert keep the lion’s share, taking only a few jars for his own use, and Beth knew that he preferred the lighter, slightly bronze-colored and somewhat more tart scuppernong to the sweeter, more cranberry-colored muscadine jelly. She set the jar next to his place at the table as he scooped scrambled eggs from the pan directly onto their plates.

She brought the plate of bacon to the table as he carried the pan of biscuits over, and they sat down to eat. Beth slathered a hot biscuit in butter, watching it melt in, and then added jelly. When she bit into it her eyes closed in ecstasy. “Henry, these are delicious! If I’d have known you could make biscuits this good, you’d have gotten laid a long time ago, mister!”

“Miss…Beth!” He was laughing. “What a thing to say! You do have a mouth on you, I will say that!”

“You seemed to really enjoy what my mouth did last night.”

“Beth! I’m just going to eat now, before you embarrass me any further.” She laughed, amused by his discomfiture at her blunt and sexually explicit teasing.

He dug into his food, pretending to ignore her, but soon they settled into their usual pattern of talking about anything or nothing, comfortable with long silences or almost any topic. Both were relieved that their night of storm-driven passion had not made things awkward between them, nor seemed to have damaged their close friendship in any way.

Finished eating, they cleared the table, again moving around each other with practiced ease. He was extremely aware of her, and of the fact that her blue shirt did almost as much to tease and entice as it did to conceal. The short tail barely covered her little round bottom – didn’t, when she bent or stretched for anything – and the front, unbuttoned down to the third button, revealed the tops of her breasts and her perfect cleavage.

When she moved, the shirttails in front lifted and parted, providing brief but frequent and tantalizing glimpses of her smooth sex, and the front of her narrow crevice between soft, pale pink lips. He felt himself becoming aroused, his cock hardening, and he tried to think it away - with limited success.

When the chores were done and the kitchen once again pristine, they walked out to the front porch, each carrying a steaming mug of coffee. The day was bright and clear, the sky a brilliant blue. Rain water still dripped from the eaves and everything was wet, water droplets shimmering in the sun, the air fresh and clear and scented of loamy earth and rain, wet grass and honeysuckle.

Beth took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh-washed scent and feel of the air. They sat in the two wooden rockers on the porch, dry under the porch roof, setting their mugs on the small table between the chairs. Beth stretched luxuriously, her arms above her head. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, his thoughts turning to the way she’d tasted and her scent, and the way she’d fit so tightly around his cock. He felt himself hardening, his pulse quickening.

She sighed as she leaned back contentedly in her rocker. “As much as I hate the storms, I love the way things look and smell afterwards, don’t you?”

“I do. It’s a renewal, and an assurance that we can weather the storms that come in our lives; that we can come out the far side in one piece…maybe better for it.” They looked at each other for a long time, their faces serious, neither speaking. He finally broke the silence. “Are we better for it, Beth?”

“I think so, Henry. We’ve shared so much over the years, both good and bad. That was one of the very few things we hadn’t shared, and it was a very good thing. I have no regrets.”

“Nor do I.” They sat looking out over the glistening lawn, past the ancient oak and across the open expanse to the tree line beyond. He chuckled. “You notice our old girl withstood that storm just fine; hardly lost a leaf, it would appear. She a tough old thing – probably outlive me!”

“Don’t say things like that.” She shivered, despite the warm day.

“It’s a fact of life, Beth. Speaking of which; I failed to ask, because it’s been a long time since I needed to, but you are on birth control, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Beth…I’m not clipped – I’ve never had a vasectomy.”

“Oh my god, Henry! I just assumed, you know, that you…!” She was watching his face, and she was almost certain she saw him turn an odd shade of gray. She couldn’t keep up the pretense any longer, and she laughed. “Relax, Henry, I’m kidding you! Robert and I are trying to get me pregnant; my period is due the day after tomorrow, so at this point I’m either already pregnant, or it doesn’t matter.”

He clutched his heart. “Good lord, woman! You should know better than to do something like that to an old man! So you’re sure…?”

She laughed again, enjoying his reaction. “Yes, I’m sure. You could set your clock by me; my cycle is as regular as they come. I would have stopped you if it wasn’t a good time, we could have thought of something. Do you have condoms?”

He shook his head. “No. Why would I?”

“I suppose.” She stood and walked around to stand beside his chair. She put her arm around his shoulder and leaned her hip against him. “I guess that old storm knew just when to blow in, didn’t it? Right on my body’s schedule.”

He laughed. “Yes, impeccable timing.” He had his arm around her legs as she leaned against his shoulder, his hand wrapped around to the front of her thigh, his fingers touching her soft, warm skin. “So my little girl is going to finally have babies of her own, huh?”

“That’s the plan – and we hope just one, to start with!”

He chuckled. “Yes, one is a good place to start. It would be wonderful to have kids around this place again; it’s been much too quiet.”

“And you need another generation to share your stories with.”

He nodded. “Yes.” His strong fingers had been absent-mindedly stroking her thigh, high up and slightly to the inside; he was just aware enough of her heat and softness, and of the soft, feminine scent of her to cause a raging erection. When she put her hand on his and moved it – just an inch or two, so that his fingers touched her wet sex - his cock throbbed almost painfully.

He slid his finger between her moist lips and found her erect love button, and she gasped and moved her legs apart. She was dripping wet, slick with arousal and need. He looked up at her. “Are you always this ready?”

“Not always. Often; I’m a very sexual person, Henry. Something you didn’t know about me, I’ll bet!”

“No. I might have assumed.” He pushed his finger inside of her and slowly drew it out, dragging her body’s slick lubrication across her hard clit. “Just because you’re so beautiful.”

She gasped at the sensations he was creating in her body, her hips moving of their own volition, trying almost desperately to fuck herself on his moving fingers. She felt like she was on fire, a low, pulsing flame deep in her center which demanded to be either fed or quenched.

She pulled away from him and stepped between his legs. Bending, she quickly unzipped him and reached in, working his hard, thick cock through the open zipper. She stroked him for several seconds, enjoying the exciting feeling of his silky foreskin sliding back and forth over the plump, swollen head of his cock, and then turned her back to him, lowering herself onto his lap as she guided his big, hard penis into her.

She moaned as she took him deep inside, all the way down onto him, feeling him fill her completely. She held there for a moment, enjoying that feeling of fullness, of him pulsing and throbbing inside of her body, and then began a slow, sensual rhythm of moving on him, sliding up and down at times, grinding, rotating her hips at other times. He held her hips and helped to move her on his hardness, supporting her and moving her in a way that allowed his cock to touch every part of the inside of her sex, to stretch her, to reach all of her most inaccessible places.

She tensed and came, crying out, her voice startling several robins off the wet lawn as she ground herself on his big cock. Minutes later she came again, sagging on him afterward with the intensity of it. She was moving toward yet a third huge orgasm when she felt his body tense and strain, and he pushed deeply into her and held her there, fully impaled on him.

When she felt his cock spasm and flex, and then pump a second time, and the warm liquid flood of him spread through her middle, she came. One last huge, thunderous orgasm, driven by the pumping and flexing of his big cock as he spilled his seed deep inside her, and it crested and roared, and when it was over she fell back into his arms, her back against his chest and her long, golden hair across his neck and shoulder.

He held her, both of them winded and gasping for air after the intensity of their mutual climax, her body still gripping him tightly in its velvet sheath. Surprisingly, given their age difference, he recovered first. “God, Beth…that was incredible! This could become addictive.”

She snuggled into his arms. “Yes, it could…but remind me; how old did you say you were again?”

He laughed. “As you well know, my dear, I’m sixty-seven – going on twenty, it seems, when I’m around you.”

“Aren’t you sweet, giving me all the credit because you’re such a randy old goat!”

He laughed again, but then quickly sobered. “You can’t know, Beth, because there’s no way you could, how much you’ve made me feel like a man again. It was almost as if a part of me had been missing, and you’ve returned it to me.”

Her eyes welled, and she was glad he couldn’t see her face. “Henry, the pleasure you’ve brought me is thanks enough…and to me you’ve always been a man. An amazing, loving, strong, incredible man. You were never diminished in my eyes; you never could be.”

She lay in his arms until they felt his cock slip out of her, and then rose smoothly to her feet, his semen spilling down her legs and dribbling onto the front of his pants. She stood, smiling down at him, admiring his thick, wet, cum-slathered cock and the abstract art they’d created on his gray flannel slacks. “You’re a mess, kind sir.”

He smiled. “You too, sweet lady –and it’s all worth every bit of it.”

She nodded. “Absolutely! Has anyone ever told you that you have a gorgeous cock?”

“Beth!” He laughed. “I’ll never get used to you saying things like that – and no, I don’t believe anyone ever said that to me in quite that way!”

“Well, you do! I love the feel of your soft foreskin – Robert doesn’t have one, he was circumcised as a baby. I can’t say that I miss it, since he’s never had one, but I do love the way yours feels.” She was fondling him as she spoke, her fingers manipulating the object of her comments, relishing the soft slipperiness.

She bent and took him into her mouth, tasting the mixture of their two bodies and sucking the end three or four inches of his thick cock clean. When she straightened she kissed him, and he eagerly accepted a taste of the two of them, her lips soft and warm from his sex.

When they parted he rose to his feet, carefully tucking himself back into his pants before zipping up. “I should probably go; I have a lot to do today, working on that runway and all, and I’ll be no use to anyone if I let you drain me down to a hollow, desiccated husk!”

She laughed. “First, I don’t think that’s even possible; second, I have a lot to do as well, so you do need to get out of my hair for awhile!”

He chuckled. “I couldn’t help but notice that that’s just an expression - as it pertains to your sex. I liked that.” She smiled, and he went on, “Do you still want to ride later? Maybe about three or so?”

She nodded. “Absolutely! Wait, you are talking about horses, right?” She laughed. “Oh never mind, the answer is yes either way.”

He laughed loudly as he went down the front steps. “You do delight in embarrassing this old man, don’t you? And yes, I meant horses; I’ll saddle them up and come by later.”

“Sounds good – oh, and Henry? Thank you for last night, the storm and everything, and for this morning, the wonderful breakfast, and then just now…”

“Beth, please! There is no need for you to thank me. I should be thanking you.”

“You did.”

He laughed. “I suppose I did, didn’t I?” He turned and faced her, struck by her sensual beauty; her shirt had fallen open again during their most recent romp, and one breast and her sex were exposed, the insides of her thighs slick with his fluids. He could only shake his head in wonder. “Beth, was this a one-time thing, or do you think this will ever happen again?”

She smiled softly at him. “You know, a very smart man – a very smart and sexy man - once told me that you have to forget the past, live for today, and be excited about the glorious new world of possibilities that tomorrow might bring. Maybe we should enjoy what we have, and then wait and see what the future holds.”

He was smiling as he turned away, recognizing his own words. He waved back over his shoulder. “I’ll be by later with the horses – wear jeans, because we might get in some brush, but bring a couple of towels; we haven’t been down to the old swimming hole for quite awhile, and it should be all fresh after the rain.”

She smiled too, noting that he hadn’t mentioned bringing a bathing suit. Her smile broadened as she watched him walk away, his gait and demeanor different, a certain masculine confidence and swagger in his step that she hadn’t seen for quite awhile. Her smile broadened and her heart lifted, gratified that she was able to provide him that with something so simple and joyful as sex.

Published 
Written by Stormdog
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