55 comments/ 180798 views/ 29 favorites Pennies From Heaven By: jack_straw Sylvia McKay had been dreading this day for weeks, but there was no getting around it. She was headed for the lawyer's office that day around noon in the company of her two children for the official reading of her husband's will. She and Richard had drawn up the document together, so she didn't expect any surprises, but she had her kids with her anyway, for moral support. Sixty days had passed since her husband had finally succumbed to prostate cancer, and they had been 60 of the longest days of her life. She had planned for that day, prepared for it, and had held up well through the funeral and burial. But once it was all over and everyone had returned to their lives, she had to face the loneliness, and it had all but paralyzed her. It was as if her mind wasn't ready to accept that he was gone. Richard had fought his disease with everything he had, and had turned a prognosis of six months to live into two full years. In many respects, it was the best of times and, naturally, the worst of times. Of course, there were the endless rounds of doctor's visits, surgery, chemotherapy and hospital stays. But they had also crammed as much living as possible into the time Richard had left. He had taken early retirement from the company where he'd worked for over 25 years and she had retired altogether from her teaching job. They had traveled to places they had always wanted to go – to his ancestral home in Scotland, on an Alaskan cruise, to the Caribbean islands – anywhere as long as they were together. Sylvia and Richard had met at the university; he was a junior and she was a wide-eyed freshman. They had always been friendly, but early the next school year they started dating and something clicked. Their personalities had meshed nicely – he was a little more serious-minded and she was a little more bubbly – and they looked good together. She was a fairly petite blonde with a compact body and a healthy pair of C-cups on her chest; he was a little taller than average with a lean physique and reddish-brown hair. But it was the sex that cemented their love. After the first time they made love together, neither one had ever seriously entertained the thought of having anyone else. Oh, they fantasized about doing a little swinging, and they both appreciated a nice-looking specimen of the opposite gender. But they never did anything more than talk about sex with others, and they were quite willing to let the other look at the opposite sex, as long as there was no touching. As soon as Sylvia graduated from college, they had married, and they had enjoyed 32 years together. Two children, a son named Jimmy and a daughter named Ann, were the result of their union, and they had seen both children marry and have kids of their own. Richard and Sylvia had thought they were going to have a third child, but she miscarried at 11 weeks, and they had decided not to try again. Richard had had a vasectomy and Sylvia had had her tubes tied. Time had not diminished their sexual appetite much at all. They both added a few pounds here and there and Richard's hair started turning silver in his mid-30s. But they kept up an active sex life until about six weeks before Richard died, when his health finally started to fade. Sylvia honestly didn't know if she could go on without him. She moped around the house, hardly doing anything, hardly going anywhere. A few friends tried to coax her into going to lunch or dinner, and she'd turned them down, so they quit trying. The kids had been to visit several times, but even they were getting concerned and were increasingly reluctant to come by, because it was too uncomfortable. Sylvia knew she should try to do something, go back to work, sell the house, whatever, but she couldn't make a decision. Sometimes she relished the thought of getting back in a classroom; sometimes the thought of dealing with 25 grade-schoolers terrified her. Sometimes she thought she should sell the house; sometimes the thought of parting with the home she'd shared with Richard, with all of its memories, was abhorrent. She put on happy face when she saw Jim and Ann at the lawyer's office, but they could see through it. For at least the 10th or 11th time – or maybe it was the 20th, who knew? – Ann invited her mother to come stay with them for awhile. And as always, Sylvia had declined without elaborating. The reading of the will went as expected. Richard had retired as a senior vice president in his company and had done well with some stocks, so he had plenty left to give, even considering how much they'd spent on their travels the previous two years. Naturally, the bulk of Richard's estate went to Sylvia, but he'd also left money in a trust fund for Jim and Ann to help with their children's college education. He'd also parceled out some sentimental items to each child, and he had left $10,000 to their church. Everything was signed and probated to everyone's satisfaction, including the government, and they were preparing to leave, when the lawyer asked to speak to Sylvia alone. She told the kids she'd meet them outside and turned back to the lawyer. "Mrs. McKay, the last time I saw your husband, he gave me a key to a safety deposit box at a bank near your home," the lawyer said. "He was very clear on his instructions. He said you were to be given the key and the location after the will was read, not a day sooner. He also asked that when you go to open the box that you go alone." Sylvia took the proffered key and thanked the lawyer for all he had done. She left his office puzzled. What in the world could Richard have left in a safe-deposit box? And why was it so sensitive that she needed to be alone? She mulled the matter through lunch with Jim and Ann, which they had insisted on. But she only half paid attention to what was said, then it was time to leave, and she had driven home. She thought about waiting, but curiosity got the better of her, so she changed into some jeans and a plain blouse and went to the bank. The bank employee who showed her the box left her alone to open it up, and Sylvia was glad he did when she saw what the box contained. In spite of her grief, she had to smile, for the box contained a letter, on which was printed in Richard's familiar – though shaky – block handwriting, "For Your Eyes Only," and under the letter was a pair of her panties. They weren't just any panties, however, but the pair of crotchless panties they'd bought at the sexy lingerie shop in London almost two years earlier. She smiled again as she remembered the night after they'd bought them. They'd gone to a play, and she'd worn them, at his request. Richard spent the whole night with his hand up her skirt, fingering her pussy to a frothy boil, without letting her come, then he'd fucked her like a demon when they got back to their hotel. Sylvia quickly stuffed the panties and the letter into her purse, returned the box to its slot and walked out of the bank, feeling a little better than she had since the funeral. Richard had obviously written her a letter that he'd intended for her to read after his death. It was something from him that she could grasp onto, and it seemed to soothe her soul. It was late in the afternoon on a glorious autumn day, and Sylvia decided to take a mug of coffee out to their gazebo to read her letter. The gazebo had a wooden swing that overlooked the back of their property, which afford her a view of the valley below. When they had first bought the house, over 20 years earlier, the valley had been mostly empty of habitation, with the city in the distant background. But, inexorably, the city had slowly spread in their direction, and now the view was mostly suburban sprawl. Still, it was a nice place to come and relax, and she had spent a lot of time just sitting in the swing staring into space in the weeks since Richard's death. As she listened to the coffeepot percolating, Sylvia wryly noted that she was glad she'd never been much of a drinker. If she had been, she'd likely be an alcoholic by now. Once she had her coffee, she walked outside and sat in the swing. She sat the mug on the little stand next to the swing and stared at the letter. What was in there? What words did Richard have for her that needed to wait until he was gone for her to hear? All sorts of dark thoughts crossed her mind as she turned the envelope over. Was he going to confess something that would break her heart? Finally, she slid her finger under the flap and opened up the envelope and took out the letter. It was quite lengthy, six pages in all, typewritten, single-spaced. It was dated just 15 days before his death, not long before he took to his deathbed. When the time had come, Richard had insisted that he not be hospitalized. They had gotten a hospice nurse to come in and he had died at home in familiar surroundings, with his family around him. He had been lucid almost to the very end, and he had died with a smile on his face. Tears welled up in Sylvia's eyes as she began to read. "My dearest, love of my life," the letter began. "If you are reading this, then it means that I have been gone now for two months. And, really, it's all right. I wish I could have had more time, wish we could have grown old together, the way we had always promised we would, but God had different plans. Such is life. "Sweetheart, I have absolutely no regrets about anything that I have or have not done. It's been a full, rewarding life. Even this challenge that we've faced these last two years has been enlightening. I've learned more about life and love these past months with you than I ever knew before. I honor you and bless you for the strength you've shown through this ordeal. "But as I write this, I realize that my time grows short, and I'm ready for death. I have been in a lot of pain in recent days, and I am very, very tired. So as I come to the end of my days, I feel compelled to leave you something pleasant to remember me by. Hence this letter. "Before you continue reading, however, I want you to do something for me, to get yourself in the mood for what follows. I want you to get up, from wherever you are, go upstairs to our bathroom and draw a nice, hot bath. Put some bath oil in to make yourself feel and smell sexy. Sit back in the tub, relax and let all of the stress flow out of you. Put all of the sadness and bad thoughts out of your mind, and remember the good times. Lord knows, there were plenty of them. Go on, just do it. You'll be glad you did. "Then, when you finish your bath, put on the panties that I've left with this letter, get in the bed and make yourself comfortable. I have some things I need to say to you, and I want you in bed when you read what I have to say." Sylvia chuckled through her tears as she did what the letter said. That was Richard. He had risen to a high place in the corporate world because of his ability to command others, but it wasn't the kind of command of threats, coercion and bluster. It was more the way he could persuade, cajole, maneuver and flatter others into doing his bidding. Her mother had always said Richard McKay could charm the horns off a billy goat, and Sylvia had always come back with the remark that he'd sure charmed the pants off of her. Sylvia decided to wait a little while before continuing. She had another cup of coffee as she puttered around the house and watched the news. Then she fixed a little bit of dinner and ate, even though she had little appetite. As darkness descended, she could wait no longer. For the first time since Richard's death, she was eager to do something. Her body was tingling with the first signs of arousal she'd felt in months, and she quickly stripped naked and started the bath. As she looked up, she happened to see herself in the mirror, and she actually shuddered. How had she let herself go like that? Her face was thin and she had lost weight, but not from any diet. Worst was the haggard look in her eyes, the subtle shading that bespoke of weariness and pain. Of course, she had not gotten a full night's sleep since weeks before Richard's death, and she hadn't been eating well at all. As she stared at the stranger in the mirror, Sylvia came to the dawning realization that she was killing herself, slowly but surely, that somewhere in her deep subconscious she wanted to join Richard. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she jerked away from the mirror and tended to her bath. Then, with a determined set to her jaw, she picked up the bottle of bath oil – lavender, Richard's favorite – that had sat unused for months. She poured the remnants of the bottle in the tub, shut off the water and climbed in. Even as she felt the warm water caress her body, she thought about Richard and how much she missed him. It would be so easy to just take some pills, slip into the water and drift away. But even as the thought crossed her mind, she saw her husband's face in her mind's eye, and she didn't like the look that was on it. It was as if he was there and knew what she was thinking. With effort, she turned away from thoughts of suicide and started to recall the good times. As Richard had said, there had been plenty, and even as she worked her way through the memories, she felt that tingle in her groin again, as she started to replay some of their sexual antics. God, they had been uninhibited! There was nothing she wouldn't do for her husband, and he never demanded anything she wasn't willing to do. Sylvia ran her slick hands over her body, caressed her swollen nipples as she thought about the many times they had fucked right there in the bathtub. Hesitantly, her fingers delved between her legs and she felt a shock of lust as she slid a finger between her labia and over her throbbing clit. Suddenly, she felt a compelling urge to finish her bath and read the rest of Richard's letter. He'd written it for a specific purpose, and she felt there was something profound in there that she needed to see. She got out of the tub, dropped the lever for the drain and dried herself with a big, fluffy towel. She ran a hand through her stylishly short blonde hair and headed for the bedroom. She saw the panties lying on the bed where she'd left them and felt a rush as she slid them up her silky smooth legs. Her body was coated in a light oily sheen and the aroma of lavender teased her nose. She could feel the nakedness of her labia through the opening in the panties and she felt a flood of moisture well up inside of her pussy. Sylvia pulled the covers down on the bed, propped up her reading pillow, put on her reading glasses, switched on the bedside lamp and settled in to read the rest of her husband's letter. Again, it was as if he was standing right there chatting with her. The tone of the letter was so conversational. "Well, I hope you feel better now that you've bathed and relaxed," the letter continued. "Sylvia, my darling, I know I told you this many times, but I'll say it again here in black and white. I loved you from the first time I saw you and I've never wavered in that love. I know it took a little time for you to fall in love with me, and I waited because you were so young and I wanted you to experience college without trying to balance school with a serious relationship. "But when you started going out on some dates, I knew I'd better move quickly. I'll never forget the look on your face the first time I asked you out. You were surprised and delighted." More like, what took you so long, buster, Sylvia thought with an amused snort. He was right that it had taken a little longer for her to fall in love with him, but not much longer. She had begun to wonder if she'd totally misread her intuition about his feelings for her when he finally got around to asking her for a date. "You looked so good that first date, and I knew we had 'it,'" Richard continued. "But that was nothing compared to the first time we made love. Remember?" Remember? How could she ever forget? It had been on a Saturday night after a home football game. They'd spent the game on their feet with their arms wrapped around each other, both because it was a little chilly and the game had been exciting, a down-to-the-wire contest that their team had won. She and Richard had been dating about a month, and they'd been getting more and more intimate. They had gone back to the apartment Richard shared with his younger brother and two other guys for a little victory party. But when the others wanted to go out to hit a few bars to celebrate, they had declined. "I can still see you as we walked casually up to my room," Richard wrote. "We kissed deeply, wantonly, and I knew that was going to be the night. I slowly pulled your sweater off, then turned you around and unhooked your bra. I reached around your chest and squeezed your tits, caressing your nipples with my fingers. I'm sure I told you a million times, but I'll say it again for posterity: you have the most magnificent breasts of any woman I've ever seen. "I backed away to pull my shirt off, and you stood there twirling your nipples with your fingers, giving me 'that look' that told me you were ready for me to do anything I wanted to you. Then you reached over and pulled my T-shirt off and it was your turn to play with my nipples. You knew I had sensitive nips and you exploited that knowledge by licking and teasing them. That got me about as hard as I could possibly get. "'I want you so badly, Sylvia. Please, I want to love you.' And you just melted in my arms. 'I want you, too, baby.' At that point, we simply needed to be naked, and we didn't mess around with any more seductive stripping. We got our pants off – and our socks – and tumbled into my bed. "We were kissing, touching and feeling each other as our passion swelled to a white-hot intensity. We had waited long enough. I needed to be in you and you needed me to be in you, and we didn't mess around. You rolled onto your back, with your legs spread, and I have that sight burned into my memory: your pretty pink pussy, open and wet for me, your eyes pleading with me to put my throbbing dick in and fuck you. I rubbed the head between your lips a few times, to prime the pump, so to speak, then slowly slid my cock in." Sylvia was suddenly aware that her right hand was between her legs and she was stroking her clit as she read Richard's description of their first time. She hadn't been a virgin, but she hadn't had many lovers before Richard, and none of them had ever come close to making her feel what she felt that night. She worked her pussy with more purpose as she continued reading. She was beginning to become dimly aware of what her husband was doing, and she felt her love for him swell, if that was possible. "We stared into each other's eyes as I methodically worked my cock back and forth in your cunt. You were so tight, but you took me in with relative ease," he wrote. And that was true. Richard's cock had been the perfect size for her small frame. She'd once put the tape measure to it and it came to slightly under 7 inches and about 1¾ inches in diameter. It wasn't too big and it wasn't too small. "I could tell that we weren't going to last too long, and I wanted you to climax either before me, or with me, and I began to rotate the base of my cock around your clit every time I bottomed out," Richard wrote. "I don't know if I ever told you this, but I had a very skilled teacher in the art of making love when I was a sophomore. She was a senior and we dated off and on for several months. She was just enough of a slut that I knew I didn't want a steady relationship with her, but she taught me things that few men ever learn, and you were the beneficiary of those lessons." No, she hadn't known that, but she had always figured somebody had taught him well, because he never, ever left her unsatisfied. If, for some reason, he couldn't please her with his cock, he did it with his fingers or his mouth. Pennies From Heaven "I could see the strain on your face as your rapidly approached your orgasm, and I doubled the speed of my thrusts to get there at the same time," Sylvia read. "I missed by maybe a few seconds, but no matter. I felt you stiffen and heard you cry out in passion as the climax swept you away and I cried out in my own pleasure as I thrust deep one final time and unloaded a humongous load of cum deep in your twitching box. We just clutched at each other tightly as the waves of lust took us to paradise. "It was only after we finished that I got the horrendous realization that I'd just fucked you and come in you with no protection, but you smiled and told me you'd gotten on the pill a few weeks earlier. You knew almost from the start that we'd end up as lovers, and, typically, you prepared ahead of time." Sylvia was close, close, close, so she reread that passage again as she pumped two fingers in her boiling box and swirled her thumb around her clit. When she go to the part where he'd talked about his "humongous load of cum," she arched her back stiffly and convulsed in a terrific orgasm, the first one she'd had since the last time they had made love. For the first time in weeks, Sylvia smiled – really smiled – and she began to see where her husband was going with this message from heaven. Sylvia sighed as she recalled the rest of that night. After a brief rest, they had made love, slow and sensual, and this time she got on top and rode him. She'd never done that before, but it just seemed so natural. She slid a hand to her tits and squeezed one of the plump orbs as she recalled how Richard had pulled her down and nursed her, sucking her nipples and caressing her flesh. After the second time, they had slept a bit, then went at it again. By the time Richard delivered Sylvia to her dorm early the following Sunday, they had fucked five times, and they knew they were in love. In spite of the glow she'd gotten from her self-induced orgasm, Sylvia could feel the melancholy coming back on her, so she picked up Richard's letter and read on. "I could never get over how giving you were when it came to sex," he wrote. "You never refused me anything, and you were always ready for me. Unless you were really sick, you always said yes when I suggested a roll in the sack. I knew so many men, people you wouldn't believe, who were green with jealousy over that. "And sex seemed to be the spark that got us through some rough patches. Remember 'The Dress' at the restaurant that night?" God, did she, Sylvia blushed as she thought about the night she wore the red dress that became infamous in their marital lore. It wasn't especially revealing, although it did have a nice long slit up the skirt below where it buttoned together and a bit of a plunging neckline. But what they did the first time she wore it made it a legend in their lives. They had been married just over nine years, and they had hit a bit of a rut in their sex life. Richard was at a key point in his career where he was traveling a lot on a major job his company had working at the time, and he was spending more time at work than he ever had before – or ever did again. And his work was leaving him physically and emotionally drained. Sylvia had let it go during that school year, because she was busy as well, but when summer came and she was home alone with her thoughts and frustrations, she got to a breaking point. One night in early July, when Richard had come home about 8 o'clock, missing dinner yet again, she told him they had some things that needed airing – immediately. After putting the kids to bed, they talked, really for the first time in quite awhile. In blunt terms, Sylvia told her husband that he was putting his job ahead of his family, and for the first time in their relationship, he was leaving her sexual needs unmet. "Richard, I don't ever want to think about cheating on you," she said. "But this is how those things start. Husband starts to work long hours, spends more time and energy on the job than at home, wife feels neglected, and before you know it, she's thinking dangerous thoughts. You need to get back to taking care of business at home, or the time may come where I'll start entertaining the notion of having a lover. I love you too much, and I don't want that, so that's why we're having this conversation now, before it becomes a real problem." "Sweetheart, I'm sorry," Richard said as he took his wife in his arms. "You are so right, as always. I've just been so focused on this project that I haven't been paying attention to you. Look, I've got two weeks of vacation coming up at the end of the month. Why don't we take the kids to stay with your folks for at least part of that time and let's spend that time together, just you and me." At the time, Jim was 6 and Ann was 4, old enough to spend time at their grandparents for a few days without being too much of a burden, and they had gotten back that afternoon feeling a little giddy. Sylvia, in fact, was as turned on as she could ever remember being at the prospect of a week alone with her man with nothing to do but fuck him half to death. And as she picked up Richard's narration, she realized that he was recounting every delicious detail of that momentous night. She felt her pussy swelling and moistening again as she read about possibly the most outrageous incident of their life together. Then she stopped momentarily, got off the bed and walked over to the closet. She rummaged around in there until she found the box of sex toys she'd put away months ago. She pulled out her favorite vibrator, a nice long silver missile that had always come through for her. She twisted the base to make sure the battery was still good, then plopped back down on the bed, turned on the vibe and worked it between her legs with one hand while reading her husband's letter with the other. She gasped as she felt the tingling sensations of the vibrator working on her cunt. "I was already dressed, in slacks and a nice shirt, and I was waiting for you to finish getting ready," Richard had written. "But when I saw the look on your face when you came into the kitchen wearing nothing but your garter belt, stockings and heels, I momentarily forgot about dinner. Or, more precisely, I thought about another kind of meal. "You had the most intense look of lust on your face I ever did see. Your nipples were stiff as nails and you had shaved your pussy. As you stood there in front of me, just staring down at me, I noticed how wet you were, My God, woman, you were literally dripping cunt juice onto the floor in a big, fat pool. 'I want you to fuck me. Now,' you said. "But I had a better idea. I couldn't let such a juicy pussy go by without getting myself a taste, so I slid off the chair, onto my knees, pressed my face between your legs and set to work devouring you. I lapped up the flow of fluid that was pouring from your dilated hole, and swung my tongue up to roll your clit. At that point, you put both of your hands on my head to hold me in place. Trust me, I wasn't going anywhere, but it was good to feel the depths of your passion through your hands, and the way you were clutching my hair. "I was sucking your clit between my lips, almost like a small cock, and tongue-fucking you with everything I had, your juice smeared all over my face as you rocked and rolled on your high heels. You were moaning incoherently as your climax built to a white-hot frenzy. I had a firm hold on your ass cheeks as your breath quickened and your body stiffened. I pressed my attack because I knew you were right there, and seconds later you cried out sharply as your whole body shuddered in orgasm. "Of course, my cock was like an iron bar, and you weren't even though twitching before I stood up, got behind you, unzipped my slacks, pulled out my dick and rammed my way right up your flooded hole. You just bent over the kitchen table, laughing wantonly as I fucked you like a runaway locomotive. It seemed like all the months of frustration that had been building between us exploded in one sensational coupling. "And when I jerked a ferocious cumload deep in your womb, I did something I'd never done before, but came to like. I knelt back down, clamped my mouth on your gushing gash and sucked out every drop of semen that was flowing from your hole. They weren't called creampies back then, but it didn't matter what they were called. All I know is I was in such a frenzy that I wanted to consume you. You squealed in delight as I licked you clean and you came again." Sylvia had to stop then, because she was coming again from Richard's description of one of the most memorable sexual encounters of her life. This one was much harder and much more intense than the first time. Her whole body went rigid and she seemed to hold her breath seconds before she gasped in her climax. Finally, the waves of orgasm melted away and Sylvia slumped back on her reading pillow, feeling better than she had in months. She began to feel even better when she recalled what happened after they pulled themselves together and went to dinner. It was a weeknight, so there weren't many diners at the restaurant, a cozy Italian place known for its intimate atmosphere. Sylvia had worn her new red dress but didn't put on a bra or panties. Their waiter's eyes nearly bugged out when Sylvia casually leaned over next to her husband and flashed her fat tits, showing him all but the very tips of her beautiful breasts. She laughed as she remembered how Richard had slid his hand up her skirt and started feeling her up right there in the booth. She kissed him lasciviously, kneading his resurgent cock through his slacks as he worked her to a fever pitch. They didn't care that the entire staff at the restaurant was peeking around the corner staring at them lustfully. It was almost like they fully expected Sylvia and Richard to climb up on the table and fuck right there, and they were pretty close to doing just that. As it was, she spread her legs and gave them all a real good view of her smooth and very wet pussy. Minutes later, they paid their bill, giving the waiter an extra-big tip, then they'd gone home and fucked the night away. By the time they picked up the children a week later, Richard's dick was red and chapped from overuse, and whatever problems they'd been having in their sex life had been thoroughly resolved. There was more, but Sylvia needed something to drink, so after going downstairs and getting a glass of water, she lay back down and resumed reading. "It seemed like sex always brought us through the tough times in our lives," she read. "Well, not necessarily sex itself, but the intimacy that went with it. There were so many times when we needed to just fuck our brains out and then hold each other tight afterward to let off all the stress of whatever happened to be vexing us at that particular time. "That was especially true that night out at the parking spot. I can't ever forget how we frolicked that night, and it came at such a crucial moment, when so many bad things were happening that we had no control over." Indeed, it had been six years almost to the day; a warm night in early October, when they had gone out on another date that etched itself on their memory. For some reason, everything seemed to happen all at once, just when they seemed to be at the peak of their lives together. They both had rewarding careers, they had just finished paying off the house, Jimmy and Ann had gone off to college, and Jim had, in fact, gotten married two years earlier. But in July, their son had called with troubling news. His wife, Julie, had been pregnant with what would be their first grandchild, but now there were complications, major complications. With good medical care, they had a fighting chance to get through it, but the possibility still remained that he could lose his wife and the baby if things went wrong. The whole family had sat on pins and needles for six weeks, until Sylvia got the call that they were going to take the baby by C-section. There were some anxious moments, but mother and child ultimately came though relatively unscathed. But they had no more gotten over that crisis when Richard's father collapsed in his garden. He was taken to the hospital where they learned he'd had a stroke. His dad had lingered for three weeks, into September, before he slipped away. Richard had taken it hard, because he and his father had tried to have a close relationship, but it seemed like there was so much they never could say to each other. While he was close with his mother, there always seemed to be a barrier between himself and his father. They both recognized it and both worked to bridge it, but they had only partially succeeded, and it left Richard feeling empty, even a bit guilty, when he died. Then, just three days after his father's funeral, a close friend of Sylvia's, a fellow teacher from her school, was shot and killed in a carjacking incident. And throughout that whole two-month period, Ann had been having trouble at college with an ex-boyfriend who wasn't ready to accept that status. He'd continually harassed her until the police finally got involved. The guy eventually faded away, especially after she started seeing the man she ultimately married. But it had put a damper on her senior year of college, and the fact that she'd bought a pistol and learned how to use it robbed their daughter of some of her innocence. So it was with that background that they decided to go out that Saturday night. And Sylvia picked up Richard's narrative: "You can only imagine the things that flashed through my mind when I saw you emerge from the bedroom with 'The Dress' on. You hadn't worn it in years, but you did that night, and you smiled lustfully when you asked if the dress gave me any ideas. I just stared when you unbuttoned the dress to show me you were dressed the same way you had been on that earlier occasion, without panties or bra. I just laughed, and we spent some time remembering that night. "We weren't as brazen or as crazy this time, but the glances you gave me let me know you were thinking the same way you had so many years earlier. "We got in the car and you snuggled up close to me, the way I always liked it. I put my arm around you and you responded by reaching for the zipper of my slacks. You opened the fly, fished out my cock and began softly stroking. I was already more than half-hard from the banter at the restaurant, and it didn't take long for you to have a hard, throbbing boner in your hands. "You licked my ear and told me to drive out to our little spot, that you wanted to go parking, just like in the old days. Then you bent your head down and slid the head of my cock into your mouth. You sucked and licked me for a little bit, nothing serious, just keeping me on full alert, until we got to our spot." Sylvia reached for her vibrator again as the tingle of renewed arousal rang through her body. Their little spot was well out of the city; an area where a road had been laid back into the woods for a prospective subdivision that never materialized. "Fortunately, the place was deserted, and I remember it was quiet away from the city, and we could hear the night sounds of the birds and crickets that were still lingering," Sylvia continued reading. "I reached over for you, but you pulled away and got out of the car. "'Come on,' you said. So I climbed out of the car and saw you walk behind the vehicle. My cock got a real jolt when I saw you unbutton your dress, take it off and drape it across the trunk. There was a full moon out that night and I could see your heaving breasts glowing in the pale light as you strutted toward me. "I was a little apprehensive, because I knew there could be big trouble if we were caught out there like that, but as usual the little head did the thinking for me and I reached for you and we kissed powerfully. Our tongues danced in each other's mouths and our hands were all over each other as we stood there in the moonlight. "When you got my slacks open, you pulled them down so that they were bunched around my ankles. You winked at me, then squatted down so that your legs were spread to where I could see your wet pussy gleaming in the light. Your tongue darted out and you licked up the underside of my cock, then worked it back down in a spiraling motion, so that every bit of my shaft was coated with your saliva. "After the third trip up and down my shaft with your tongue and lips, you licked up over the crown and flicked the ball of pre-cum that was flowing from the tip. You drew that taste into your mouth, then did that twice more before you followed your tongue with your lips and sucked me in. "I realized then that I was in for a treat, because I knew you were never a big fan of fellatio. Your mouth is a little on the small side and you were never able to get over your gag reflex. But if I asked you for it, you always delivered, but now you were sucking me without my asking, which made it all the more special. "You worked my meat as deep as you could into your mouth, then squeezed the rest with your fist, as if you were feeding me past your lips. This time, it was I who wrapped my hands in your hair to gently guide your motions. I was holding back because I wanted the sensations to last, but it wasn't easy because your mouth felt so good. "But it got better. Abruptly, you pulled your mouth off my cock and told me to turn around. I did as I was told, and you spread my ass cheeks and began to lick my anus, while still slowly jacking my cock. It felt wonderful, and the crackling sensations drove my lust ever higher. You just did spear your tongue past my sphincter a couple of times before you pulled back again, and told me the words I wanted to hear. "'I want to taste your cum,' you said in a husky voice. 'Come on, baby, fill my mouth with your hot cream.' I was about ready, and you plunged your mouth back onto my throbbing cock and really went to town. You sucked me and jacked me hard and fast. I looked down to see your right hands furiously diddling your clit, and you had such a look of reverence on your face. You were doing this for me, for us, and my love for you just soared. "I could feel the sizzle of my orgasm beginning to reach critical mass, and when you pulled your hand from your cunt, reached back and slid a finger into my ass, I lost it. I gripped your head hard as I exploded with a half-dozen hard, hot cumshots. You swallowed as much as you could, but I still saw little trickles of sperm rolling out the corners of your mouth. "You milked every drop of cum from my cock, then slid me out of your mouth. I staggered back and stared as you resumed fingering your pussy with one hand while you cleaned up the cum from your chin. I watched as you shuddered hard in your climax. "'Let's go home,' you said. 'I'm not done with you tonight.' Then you grabbed your dress, got back in the car, tossed the dress in the back seat and I drove us home with you sitting there naked." Sylvia was thrashing on the bed as she read Richard's story and played the video of that night in her mind. Her vibrator was plunging in and out of her squishy cunt, and she was maneuvering the buzzing tip over her swollen clit. As she climbed the ladder to yet another orgasm, she recalled that she had fingered her bubbling pussy all the way home that night. Then she walked into the house – still naked – took Richard up to their bedroom and they had made love, long and slow, but with a hard and fast finish. Sylvia came twice more before Richard cried out in one his more intense orgasms, then he slid down the bed and sucked out their commingled juices, until she finally had to push him away from her super-sensitive pussy. Pennies From Heaven She imagined the vibrator was Richard's tongue licking her clit, and it was with that image that she arched her back into almost a full bow then crashed onto the bed in a colossal climax. Sylvia was covered in sweat and the juice of her arousal was smeared halfway down her thighs as she lay in exhausted satisfaction. She smiled as she thought about the gift her husband had just given her, the gift of pleasure in the face of grief. But there was still one more page to Richard's letter, so she picked it up and read, and she smiled through her tears at his final words to her. "Well, I hope you enjoyed my little walk through memory lane," she read. "Knowing you, you probably came at least twice, maybe more, which was the whole idea. You always did love a good sex story. "Which brings me to the real point of this letter. Sylvia, honey, I know how much you're going to hurt when I'm gone. Oh, you're putting on the brave front, telling me you've accepted what's about to happen, but I know you too well. You wear your heart on your sleeve and you are going to be inconsolable when I'm gone. "That's all right; grief is a part of the whole death process, something you need to experience in order to have full closure. That's why I waited until after the reading of the will to let you see this letter. You've had two months to be inconsolable in your grief, two months to wallow in self-pity, two months to do nothing but cry over your loss. "But enough's enough. "You are 54-years-old, and you are a young 54. You come from a line of long-livers, and you've taken good care of yourself. God willing, you have another 20, 25, maybe even 30 years of life left in you. SO START LIVING IT! "Baby, I'm gone and no amount of moping and depression is going to bring me back. I'm going soon to a better place and I'll meet you there when your time comes. "But you're still there, and you have a family who needs you, grandchildren who need their Memaw, friends who need you. "Quit sitting around that house feeling sorry for yourself. There are plenty of widows out there who have made productive second lives for themselves. Seek some of them out, talk to them, share stories with them, and, yes, shed a few tears with them. "If you feel like the house is too much to keep up, sell it and buy something smaller. If you want to go back to work, go. You were a gifted teacher, and you still have a lot to offer young people. "And, don't just assume that your sex life is over now that I'm gone. You are one of the sexiest, sexual women on the planet, and sex is an important part of your life. If celibacy is what you feel you need, fine, but don't do it just for my sake. I don't want you to live out your days alone, so if you meet another man, or, what the hell, another woman, and you have feelings for that person, don't let anything stop you. "Hell, I may enjoy watching from up here in heaven (LOL). And if you find someone you love, don't hesitate to say yes if he asks you to marry him. Just do one thing for me, if that happens. Marry for love and not convenience. "In closing, let me say again that I will always love you, and I know you will always love me. But you have enough love to share with someone else. "Sylvia, I have been blessed and honored to call myself your husband, and you have done nothing but give me happiness from the first day to the last. Honor my memory, but don't dwell on it. Get out there and start living again, girl. Show the world that bubbly person I met and fell in love with so many years ago. "I love you forever, your loving husband, Richard." Sylvia was weeping when she finished, but her tears were tears of joy and release. Richard was right. There was no point in killing herself with grief. Life goes on, and she knew now that she would try to make the best of it. ------ All of the McKays were bustling about the house on Christmas Day. Jimmy and Brent, Ann's husband, were busy putting toys together for their young children, while Ann and Julie were in the kitchen helping Sylvia with dinner. As dinner ended, Sylvia got everyone's attention. "I know this is a little unusual for Christmas, but I want to go out and see Daddy's gravesite, and I'd like all of you to come with me," Sylvia said. Then she got up and walked upstairs to get ready, indicating that she would brook no argument. Jimmy and Ann looked at each other with just a hint of a frown. What was their mother thinking? Why would she want to put a damper on such a joyous day by visiting the cemetery, especially on a cold day like today? More to the point, they worried that Sylvia was slipping back into the black depression she'd fallen into in the weeks after Richard's death. They had been very close to dragging her forceably to a doctor, because they were afraid she was contemplating suicide. But after the will had been read, Sylvia had seemed to come back to herself. She had spent some time with each child, started calling on some of her friends, went out shopping or just out and about, and she'd contacted the school district about going back to work. She'd been told that there were a couple of courses she needed to brush up her teaching license, but she was put on the substitute's list while she enrolled at the university in the city. She still had moments when she cried, but those were becoming fewer as time passed. But now she was shepherding everyone out to Richard's gravesite on Christmas Day. Sylvia hadn't been to the site since the day she supervised the placing of the tombstone at the head of his grave, but she was resolved that today she was going. She carried a poinsettia and led the little group, including the grandchildren, through the three inches of old snow to where Richard had been laid to rest. As they encircled the grave, Sylvia felt the tears coming, but did nothing to stop them. She needed to do this, needed to put a final closure on a hellish year. She would look back one more time, then, after New Year's Day, she would look forward. She said a little prayer, then asked her beloved family to sing some of Richard's favorite carols. Sylvia had been gifted with a beautiful singing voice, and her clear alto rang through the cemetery as she sang, "O, Holy Night." She remembered how proud Richard had been the night she sang that as a solo for one of the Christmas Eve services at their church. They followed that with, "God, Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen," then "The First Noel," and finally, "Silent Night." As the last few notes – "...sleep in heavenly, peace," – faded into the gloaming, there was an awkward silence around the gravesite. No one was quite sure what to do. Then Sylvia got a wicked grin on her face as she looked down and whispered in a voice only she could hear, "I love you, Richard." Suddenly, everyone heard Sylvia start to sing: "Dashing through the snow, in a one-horse open sleigh..." And Sylvia led the family in a snowy conga line back to their cars singing "Jingle Bells." That was when everyone in the family knew Sylvia was going to be all right. Sure, there would still be nights when the loneliness would cause Sylvia to cry herself to sleep. But she knew she would wake up the next morning with a new day of life ahead of her. And she knew she would always feel the presence of her man watching over her, the way he did the night he sent her pennies from heaven, when his letter pulled her out of her crushing grief and probably saved her life. Maybe she would find someone else to love, maybe she wouldn't. But whatever else happened, she knew she would always love and cherish the man who had given so much of himself to her, even from heaven.