24 comments/ 230701 views/ 38 favorites That Special Summer By: jack_straw Her name was Maggie Gibson, and she changed my life. I was a shy, insecure 18-year-old away from home for the first time in my life. She was a 44-year-old widow living out a life of quiet desperation, far from the scene of her prime. We were two ships in the night who collided for eight of the most wonderful weeks of my life. Our affair, though short, was passionate in the extreme. When we first met, I was a boy; when I left her to return home, I was a man. My name is Robert Davis, and I am a 39-year-old English professor at a prestigious private college in the South. I have also written three well-received books of historical fiction and am working on a fourth. I'm married, to a beautiful woman that I love deeply, and who loves me with equal passion, and we have three children. I've had a wonderful life, and I'm not sure any of it would have happened had I not encountered Maggie that special summer. It was the summer after I graduated from high school in my home town in West Texas, right in the middle of oil country. My father was an ex-military man who went into the oil business and did well. He was a robust, athletic man who married a quiet, religious woman of deceptive strength. I am the youngest of four children, with two brothers and a sister, and they all took after Dad. My brothers were athletes in high school, Sis was a cheerleader and played basketball, and they all three followed Dad into the petroleum industry after attending college at his alma mater, Texas Tech. Me? I was the misfit. I wasn't exactly a wimp, physically, but I was considerably smaller than my brothers and I was no athlete. I did run on the track and cross country teams, and did decently, but as for the other sports, I was a dud. In baseball, I couldn't hit a fastball, I didn't have any interest in playing football, and I couldn't make an uncontested layup on the basketball court if you gave me a running head start. The fact that I wasn't the athlete my brothers were reflected negatively on me, and gave me a terrific inferiority complex. It didn't help that I inherited my mother's personality, quiet and deferential. The one area where I did excel was in the classroom. I graduated with high honors, and landed a scholarship to Tech, thanks to my high ACT and my dad's influence. It was just assumed that I would follow the rest of my family into the oil business. The problem was, I didn't want to go into petroleum. The fact is, by the time I graduated from high school, I wanted to break out of the mold my father was trying to pour me into. I wanted to study literature, wanted to write novels, even poetry. I wanted to see the world. All of the physical sciences had been hard for me, but I had made the grades because I was smart and worked my ass off. But the liberal arts - English, history, social studies - all came easy for me, and that's what I wanted to do. I didn't want to go to Tech and study chemical engineering, but my dad wasn't someone who took no for an answer, especially not from me. Dad never had much use for me, I think, because I was an accident that he really didn't want, and because of the way I liked to spend my time. I preferred to read, all the time, preferred it to playing outside and being "athletic," so Dad made it his business to try to "toughen me up." Of course, it didn't help any that my mom was somewhat overprotective of me, since I was the baby, "her" baby, as it were. I always got the sense that I wasn't an accident as far as she was concerned, that she knew exactly what she was doing when she got pregnant with me, and maybe that was a cause for my dad not to like me much. My brothers joined my dad in his quest to make me into their kind of person. When I was 16, my brother Sam, who is two years older than me, thought he'd make me a man by taking me out with his buddies and picking up some whore to fuck me. It was the single most humiliating experience of my life. It took me forever to get a hard-on, then 30 seconds after I finally got my cock in her, I came. Of course, Sam and his friends laughed at me all the way home. I did finally learn a little about sex my senior year, when I went steady with Liza Rosen. She was sort of an outcast like me, a member of one of the few Jewish families in town, and while she wasn't bad looking, she was a little overweight. But she thought she was in love with me, and I was just happy to have a steady girl for a change. Sex with Liza was a milder version of that night in Sam's car, however. We'd be making out, and I'd get so nervous, I either couldn't get it up, or when I did, I had trouble lasting more than a couple of minutes. She finally got tired of trying to get satisfaction from me, and just before graduation, she dumped me. Needless to say, my self-esteem was at a particularly low ebb when I graduated that spring of 1983. But I could see salvation on the horizon. As much as a year earlier, I had applied for a summer job with the Interior Department, working at one of the national parks, and, lo and behold, I was accepted to work at Rocky Mountain National Park. Ah, the mountains. I had been in love with the high country since we'd taken a family vacation there when I was 12. Hiking, along with running, were the only real outdoor activities that I came to enjoy, largely because of the solitude they offered. Out running, or out in the country hiking, I could be alone and daydream to my heart's content without risking the scorn of my father and my siblings. I wasn't sure what I would find when I got to Colorado, but just being there - being away from home - would be enough. I would be there 10 weeks, beginning the first week of June. Now most of the students that hired on for the summer stayed either at one of the youth lodges or at one of two dormitories. But some of the seasonal workers stayed with families in one of the towns at the edge of the park. It was cheaper than the lodges or the dorms, and there was more supervision. This appealed to my mother, who didn't relish the idea of turning her baby loose with a bunch of heathens. And, based on what I saw of what went on in the dorms, she was smart not to let me. As frustrated and as low as my self-esteem was at that point in my life, I might well have fallen into some activities that I really didn't need, like drugs and alcohol. I had managed to avoid those pitfalls through high school, for the most part. I had gotten drunk on whiskey one time when I was a sophomore (my brother's doing, naturally), and I was as sick as I could ever remember being. I did subsequently learn to handle a beer or two and maybe a glass of wine, but I really didn't like liquor much. And the one time I smoked pot, I hacked my lungs out and it didn't do anything for me. Mom, being a devout Methodist, used some of her church contacts to try to find a family to take me in. However, by the time she got around to looking into it, all of the families from the Methodist churches in Estes Park and Grand Lake, the two towns at either end of the park, were already booked up. But not to fear, Mom was told, the librarian in Estes Park, a widow, also took in summer boarders, and she was still available. So, on Memorial Day, I packed up my little Mazda pickup with everything I thought I'd need for 10 weeks in Colorado and set off for the summer. When I finally got to Estes Park the next day, I expected to be greeted by a wizened old lady. I mean, Mrs. Gibson was a widow, right? So imagine my shock when the door to her quiet little cottage opened to reveal a stunning redheaded beauty in her 40s. At first I thought I was in the wrong place, then maybe that she was Mrs. Gibson's daughter. But, no, she WAS Mrs. Gibson. And from that moment on, she had me spellbound. Even today, 21 years later, I remember everything about her. She was a little taller than average, maybe 5-foot-7, with a long, thick mane of curly red hair that fell nearly to her waist. She had dazzling green eyes that actually twinkled when she smiled, flawless skin liberally peppered with freckles, and a sturdy body to whom time had been gracious. It was a woman's body. She had wide hips, a slight swelling at the belly and breasts that were large without being excessive. Earthy. That's the word that best describes how she was then. But you could clearly see, too, the sadness in her soul. She'd been born Maggie Boyle in South Boston, daughter of a man who had fled the Irish Civil War in the 1920s, or at least that was the story she'd always been told. Maggie herself suspected that he hadn't fled, so much as he'd been planted, for she said he was always organizing something or another for Irish freedom groups, which she believed were fronts for the IRA. At any rate, her father had been a heavy drinker, and had taken out his frustrations on his long-suffering wife and children. Maggie had left home as soon as she could to attend college in New York City, where she had met Russ Gibson. He was from California, and it didn't take much persuasion for him to convince her follow him out West, to San Francisco. She and Russ had gotten married out there, and were deep in the heart of the hippie movement. Those were the best times of her life. They had done the sex, drugs and rock-and-roll thing, but they also were active with various support groups, because they were older, and they helped out the hordes of starry-eyed kids who flocked to the area in 1966 and 1967. Eventually, however, they had gotten burned out on that scene, and had moved to the country, and then to Colorado. By then, however, they both had significant drug habits, but Maggie had beaten hers. Russ, however, never really got a chance to beat his. One night in 1972, driving over an icy mountain road while drunk and high, Russ' car had left the road and plunged off the mountain. She said it took dental records to identify the body. Maggie had been shattered by her loss, and had slowly, but surely closed off her life. She had been the librarian in Estes for eight years now, the perfect job for someone who seemed to prefer being alone. Her one real contact with the outside world was her church, and the kids she'd boarded for the summer for the Park Service to make some extra money. I was the seventh one she'd hosted, and while the others had been all right, they had been more interested in partying and chasing members of the opposite sex than anything else. Her only ironclad rule was no drugs were allowed in her house, not even marijuana. She said she'd known a few of the kids she'd had were users, but they kept it out of her sight, either stashed away tightly or in their vehicles. The first couple of days were spent doing some sight-seeing, completing the paperwork for my job, and getting to know each other. Somehow, I got the sense from the first that she was attracted to me, because she seemed to open up to me. I guess I was different from the other kids she'd had. I was interested in books and reveling in the natural beauty, and we had remarkably similar personalities. The first Saturday I was there, she took me into the park on a long hike. I found out that, like me, hiking was one of Maggie's few outdoor passions, and for the same reason, the solitude. The park is full of trails for every level of hiker, and features some stunning vistas. Although I thought I was in shape from track, the thin air at 10,000 feet left me winded and exhausted by the time we got back to her house. The next day, she went to church, and I went with her. This surprised her, for I was the first one of her kids who had accompanied her to church. Maggie was not a particularly devout Christian, but the church provided her with a few friends and a vehicle for her to help others, and she said Russ' death had started her on a path to spiritual awareness. She had found the Methodists gave her what she needed, without laying on the guilt of the Catholic faith she'd grown up under. On Monday, I started my job, and I thought I was going to die. I guess because of my family background, I had been placed with a crew that was building a hiking way station. This involved toting 50-pound stones from a flatbed truck to the site, where the stonemasons would mortar them into place. It was backbreaking work, and by the end of the third day, I was sore all over. I came in that afternoon dragging my poor ass and mumbling something about going home. Maggie greeted me with a cup of hot tea, and told me to come in to the bathroom, that she would help ease my aching muscles. First, she drew me a hot bath, and told me to soak in it for a half-hour, or until the water started getting cool. When I was finished, I felt a little better, more relaxed, but still hurting. Maggie told me not to get dressed, but to wrap a towel around my waist and come into her bedroom. My cock started to come to attention when she invited me into her bedroom, especially so when I saw that she was wearing a tank top and shorts. But she was all business. She had me lie down on the bed, on my stomach, then she took some liniment lotion and began to slowly massage my shoulders, my back and my legs. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. The touch of her smooth hands on my skin was electric, and my cock was raging hard as a result. Finally, she was done, and I did feel much better. As she left the room to finish preparing dinner, I saw her look back at me, and her gaze fell to the tent my cock was making in the towel, and thought I detected a weird half-smile. After dinner that night, we sat on her front porch in the cool evening air and talked, and for the first time, she asked me about my love life. I was embarrassed and didn't say anything at first. But under her gentle persuasion, I finally opened up and told her about Liza. At first, I skipped the sex parts. I mean, hell, she was just a little younger than my mother, and I sure as hell wouldn't have told my mom about my futile sex life, and told her so. "Look, Robbie, I'm not your mother, and I've been around more men than you think," she said kindly. "Now, tell me about it." So I did. After we went inside and went to bed, I discovered that Maggie had left a bottle of hand lotion on the night stand by my bed. As I lay between the cool sheets, I thought about her and her past and what I wanted to do with her. I had never before thought of older women as sex objects. Like I said, she was almost the same age as my mother, and I never wanted to fuck my mother. But I sure wanted to fuck Maggie Gibson, but I figured I didn't have a snowball's chance. And yet, there was hand lotion on the night stand that hadn't been there before, and there was our frank conversation about my sex life earlier, so I wasn't sure what to think. But I sure knew what to do. When I turned out the lamp, my imagination went wild. My cock was hard as a rock and wet at the tip as I slid my shorts off and reveled in the feeling of the sheets on my naked body. I squeezed out some lotion onto my hand and began to stroke my cock, slowly at first, then faster, as I imagined Maggie on top of me, riding me like a Western cowgirl. Masturbation had always been one of my most fundamental means of sexual release, but I don't think I ever shot a harder, more satisfying load than the one I shot into Maggie's sheet that night. Then I rolled over and slept better than I had since I'd been there. As the week came to an end, I finally started getting a little more comfortable with the work. I could tell I was building some muscles, and it appealed to me. And I also started noticing that when Maggie and I were at home in the evenings, she'd dress in a little more revealing way. She started leaving the top buttons on her denim shirts open, and I definitely noticed that Friday night when we worked in the kitchen that she wasn't wearing a bra. Her big titties were jiggling all over the place in that shirt, and my cock was threatening to burst through my shorts. And that night, when I went to bed, I was greeted by another surprise. It was a book, a copy of a compilation of classic erotica. Now, my suspicions were aroused, along with my cock. Was she trying to seduce me? Believe me, I wanted her to seduce me, in the worst way, but I was afraid to make a move for fear that I'd gotten the wrong signals. As it turned out, I hadn't. I read half that book that night, slowly stroking my cock, holding back, holding back, as I read story after story, until I finally exploded all over my hand. The next day, Maggie and I drove into the park, for another hike. We were about halfway on the five-mile walk, when we faced a climb up a steep portion of the trail. Being the more experienced hiker in this country, Maggie climbed up first, then extended her hand to help me up. As our hands locked, I felt an erotic charge, and when were back on more level ground, we held the touch for just a split second longer than would be proper, and stared into each other's eyes. I think we both knew in that moment what was going to happen. That night, we went out to a restaurant, and I decided to take the plunge and order the Rocky Mountain oysters. They weren't anything like I expected. They were delicious, sliced thin, battered just right and deep-fried to perfection. Somehow, the idea of eating a bull's balls gave me a rush, as if his virility was being transferred to me. I was feeling better and more confident about myself than I had in a long time. Later, after we got back to the cottage, Maggie broke out a bottle of wine and offered me a glass, then we went out to sit and watch the stars on her porch. Even though it was the first week of June, the night was chilly and after we had finished one glass of wine, Maggie went inside, then returned with a large quilt. After refilling our glasses, she invited me to come sit next to her, under the quilt. Just being so close to her was intoxicating enough, and the wine just added to the feeling, and made me just a little more bold than normal. "Maggie, tell me about Russ," I said. "What was he like?" She just stared into the distance for a few seconds. Although we had talked about her past some, she really hadn't volunteered much information about her late husband, or why she'd never remarried. "He was a sensitive, caring man," she said finally. "He just had a way of making people feel good about themselves." That was when she told me about her father. In fact, she basically told me her life story as we worked on that bottle of wine. As she started to wind down, I finally got the courage to ask the one question that had been bugging me since I'd arrived at her house. "Have you ever considered remarrying?" I asked in a quiet voice. She just laughed wistfully. "No," she said simply. "No, Robbie, I've never found a man I felt comfortable with. Or at least I hadn't..." The way she stopped suddenly made me pause. As if trying to shake off the thought, she drained her glass and announced that it was bedtime, that she had church the next morning. Of course, I told her to get me up, too, so I could go with her. I had decided that I was going to spend as much time as possible in Maggie's company. Truth is, I was falling in love with her. The next morning, I awoke with a slight headache from the wine, and came into the kitchen to the stunning sight of Maggie in her satiny sleeveless nightgown. It clung to her curves like a second skin and showed me everything, especially the obvious fact that she was naked underneath. When she faced me, I clearly saw the dim coloring of her nipples and the dark patch between her legs. She just smiled when she saw me staring and moved off to bring me a cup of coffee. As she placed the cup on the table, I got another good look at her charms, and I have to admit, I stared. My cock was rampant in my sweatpants, and when she looked down and saw it, she gave me the same half-smile she'd given me after the rubdown. That Special Summer After church, we talked about literature, and somehow the conversation came around to erotica. I wanted to ask her why she'd left that book for me to read, but chickened out. Nevertheless, we talked about some of the steamier novels that we'd read and how they affected us. For the next two nights, Monday and Tuesday, we talked about books. I was utterly fascinated by her knowledge of literature. The next day, Wednesday, came up stormy. I mean, it rains virtually every afternoon in the high country, but this was a storm front that dropped a hard, steady rain on the area. So we were cut loose from work at noon. With the afternoon to kill, I decided to drop by the library to visit Maggie. Her face brightened when I walked through the door. We chatted for a while, then she motioned for me to follow her into the fiction section. Where we were was hidden from the main part of the library, and the aisle as quite narrow. She pointed out a few books that she thought I'd like to read, from writers I'd never heard of, and pulled them from the shelf, but I wasn't paying attention. Being so close to the object of my desire had my head spinning, and I think she deliberately kept herself close to me, enjoying the closeness of our bodies. Alas, the spell was broken as someone rang the bell to check out a children's book. I finally decided I'd better go and let her work, but before I did, she stopped me. "Why don't we make plans to go out to dinner tonight, you know, kind of like a date," she said, with a twinkle in her eye. "I'll make reservations at the River Inn (referring to the city's finest restaurant)." "Are you sure?" I said. "Didn't you say it was awfully expensive." "Yeah, but I figure once isn't going to bust my budget," she answered. Then she did something I didn't expect. She pulled me close and kissed me on the cheek, just a quick buss, then she pulled away and stared at me with a look that I'd never seen in a woman before then, but would soon learn was a look of desire. My cock was a rampaging beast in my pants as I drove back to the house. I so wanted to get in my bedroom and jack off, but I resisted the urge. I spent the rest of the afternoon, reading and trying to take a nap. Finally I gave up, showered and dressed. I had brought one set of nice clothes and that's what I wore. I was so nervous, but I was almost ready when Maggie came in singing. I'd never heard her sing before and she had a beautiful voice. I told her so, and she blushed. "Russ and I tried our hand with a rock band back in the Haight," she said. "We thought we were going to be the next Jefferson Airplane, but we really didn't have anybody who could play like they could, plus most of us were more interested in getting high than in rehearsing and performing." When Maggie came out of her bedroom dressed and ready to go, I was stunned. She had put on makeup and donned a long, snug-fitting dress with a scoop neck that revealed a healthy amount of her bountiful cleavage. The effect was topped off by a pearl necklace that I learned was real. As we drove to the restaurant, I was in a daze, but managed with difficulty to keep my nerves in check. Truth was, I was beginning to worry about what might happen if we did end up in a sexual situation. I could envision myself failing once again, and risking the scorn of this beautiful, experienced woman that I wanted so badly. I needn't have worried. With the help of a couple of glasses of wine and a steak cooked perfectly, I managed to relax. We talked about our lives, especially mine, as in what I wanted to do when I got back to Texas. When we got back to the house, the rain had stopped, giving everything a fresh smell, so we decided to change clothes and sit on the porch for awhile. This time, there was no hesitation, we sat down next to each other on the swing. I had slipped on a pair of jeans and my tennis shoes and a sweat shirt, while Maggie had put on an old button-down dress and a sweater. As soon as we sat down, our thighs touched and the feeling was electric. I noticed she was staring into space, so I spoke up. "Penny for your thoughts," I said softly. "I was just thinking about how long it's been since..." she started. "Since you had a man?" I said. She looked at me and in that moment, we knew our time had come. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, leaned in towards her, and at the same moment, she drew me to her. Our kiss was tentative at first, like we still weren't sure about what we were going to do. But the longer it went, the more the passion began to build. Our tongues met and battled furiously, and I unconsciously ran my left hand up the inside of her thigh, to her crotch, and was astounded to discover that Maggie wasn't wearing panties and that she was dripping wet between her legs. I heard her breath quicken as my clumsy fingers found her sex. I slid my fingers up her slit for a few seconds before we broke our kiss and looked at each other. Our hearts were pounding in our chests, and we were both heaving from the intensity. "I shouldn't," she whispered. "You're supposed to be my charge. But, God, it's been so long." "I want you, Maggie," I said simply. "Oh, Robbie," she said softly, as we fell together again in a hot embrace, and this time we really let ourselves go. I squeezed her braless breasts and ran my hand up her thighs, while her hand was kneading my throbbing hard cock through my jeans. But it wasn't going to be that easy. I could feel all the doubts and insecurities boiling to the surface as we kissed and pawed at each other. And when we broke apart this time, she could sense the change in my mood. "What's the matter?" she said. I was nearly in tears. "Oh, I'm just so stupid," I said. "I know what's going to happen. You're so beautiful and sexy and experienced, and I'm just a loser when it comes to women. If we try to make love, it'll be just like all the other times. I love you and I want you so badly, I can't stand it, and..." "Shhhhhhhhh," Maggie said soothingly as she softly stroked my forehead. "I want you too, baby, but you don't have to worry about performing for me. This isn't some kind of laboratory where you get graded on how you do. This is two people who want each other, and need each other. Relax, and let me show you how a woman, a real woman, likes to be loved. Come on, let's go inside." I let her lead me into the house, and into her bedroom. I sat on the bed and kicked my shoes off, while she walked around the room lighting votive candles that were scattered about the room, then she turned the overhead light off. The room was bathed in a subtle, flickering glow that immediately soothed my senses. I stared as Maggie took off her sweater and draped it over a chair. I drank in the sight of her in the sleeveless dress, her tits swaying. As she walked slowly over to the bed, she pulled the barettes out of her hair and shook it loose to fall about her naked shoulders. When she reached the bed, she held out her hands for me to stand up, and when I did we embraced, hotly. As we kissed passionately, I slowly unbuttoned her dress, until it was open to her waist. Then I reached inside and got my first feel of her glorious mammaries. The pink nipples were stiff as pebbles, and I rolled them in my fingers as I lightly squeezed her tits. As I filled my hands with her tits, she pulled my sweatshirt and t-shirt off and ran her fingers lightly through my paltry chest hair, circling my BB-stiff nipples like I was hers. Almost simultaneously, our hands finished unbuttoning and pulling off the rest of our clothes. My cock was painfully hard as she softly stroked it, our mouths straining at each other. Then we both pulled back and got our first really good look at each other's nakedness. I'm sure the cockhounds at my high school wouldn't have liked Maggie's body much, but it was heavenly to me. Her long red hair cascaded over her shoulders and framed her round, fat tits. Her butt was a little meaty, but solid, and her legs were tapered and taut. I thought she was a goddess. And apparently, she liked what she saw of me. I was only an inch or two taller than she was, but my chest was starting to get some definition from the hard physical work, there wasn't an ounce of fat on me, and from the way she caressed my cock, she must have liked it, too. For my size, my cock is a little bigger than average, about 6 1/2, maybe even 7 inches when it's especially hard, as it was at that moment. My problem with sex up to that point had never been size, but how I used it. We fell onto the bed, then, our bodies reveling in the contact of skin on skin. I wanted to get her on her back and fuck the hell out of her right then, but Maggie rolled me onto my back and held me down. She looked down on me with a fiery look in her eyes and her hair wild. In the two-plus weeks I'd been there, I'd never seen a look like the one she gave me then. "First thing you need to learn about sex, young man, is to take your time," she said in a husky voice. "Never hurry with a woman. It takes us longer to get going that it does for men, especially women my age and men your age. But I promise, the reward will be so much greater." Then she bent her face to mine and we kissed, slow and sexy. Chills ran up and down my spine from the sensual way she kissed me. Breaking the kiss, Maggie raised her body up and dangled her tits in my face. I latched onto them with both hands and brought her succulent nipples to my mouth, one after the other. Slowly, I rolled my tongue around her bullet-like nipples, as she told me just how to suck them. "You're catching on, baby," she said. Pulling her breasts free of my mouth, she slid back down my body. We kissed again, not being able to keep our mouths from each other. Maggie broke free, and trailed her tongue down my chin, down my neck to my chest. She licked and sucked my nipples, and the sparks of pleasure went straight to my iron-hard cock. Down my chest, she licked and kissed my hot skin, softly, almost reverently, and I could feel a sense of serenity envelope me. I knew she was going to treat me right, that I had nothing to fear from her. Nothing I did with her was going to be a failure, and I now realized that. Maggie licked and kissed her way down my chest, playfully reaming out my belly button with her tongue, then on down to my abdomen. All the while, her hand was lightly caressing my throbbing-hard cock, just hard enough to keep me at full roar, but not enough to make me cum too soon. I looked down to between my legs at Maggie's wild red hair and her dazzling eyes as she cupped my balls and blew lightly on my cock. Her tongue flicked out and slithered over my low-hanging balls, one after the other. I groaned in acute arousal, but I managed to relax and keep from letting go. But it was tough when she slid one of my balls into her mouth and sucked lightly, then followed with the other. I'd never had this done to me, and it felt exquisite. In fact, I'd never had a real blowjob before. Liza had tried it once and didn't like it, so she never did it again, and the whore my brother tried to set me up with that awful night had finally sucked me to an erection to get me to perform, but she hadn't really been interested in what she was doing. But this was totally different. As Maggie slowly licked her way up my shaft, I knew this was a woman who was good at oral sex, and who liked to do it. She slowly licked all the way around my shaft, up to the crown, as my cock trembled on the edge of orgasm. I watched as a bubble of pre-cum oozed out the tip, quickly to be flicked away by Maggie's tongue, and she followed it up by slipping the tip of her tongue into the hole, sending sparks of pleasure all through my body. Maggie slathered the head of my cock with her tongue, then slid her lips over the crown and drew me into her mouth. Slowly, ever so slowly, my cock slipped past her lips and into her mouth. I'd never felt anything so good in my life, and it was all I could do to keep from ramming my cock into throat and spewing a hot, hard load of cum. I was close enough as it was, with Maggie's mouth quickly bringing my cum to a boil. She settled into a slow, steady rhythm, her hand gripping the base of my cock to feed it into her mouth. "Oh God, Maggie, that feels sooooo goooood," I panted, as our eyes locked " Much more of that and I'm gonna cum." "Go on, baby, that's what I want," she whispered, taking her mouth off my cock. "I want to taste your cum. Let me take that edge off, then we can really make love." I just groaned as she stuffed my cock back in her mouth and began to work it back and forth harder and faster. My hips were driving, pushing my cock up to meet her downward thrusts into her mouth. She took almost all of me on the down strokes, and I humped up to give her as much as she could take. It didn't take much of this before I could feel the quicksilver rush of cum explode from my balls and spew out the end of my dick. I fired a volcano of cum down Maggie's throat, and she swallowed every drop, milking my cock of everything I had stored in my balls over the previous few days. Finally, I slumped back on the bed, and Maggie slid my cock out her mouth, still keeping her hand lightly stroking my wet, limp noodle as she crawled up my body. I gathered her in my arms and smiled at her, and she smiled back. "That felt good," she said. "I used to really love to give head. I could sit for hours with a cock in my mouth, bringing it just to the edge and backing off." Instinctively, I knew what I wanted to do. I rolled Maggie onto her back, as my fingers parted her pussy lips and I felt her wetness flow over my hand. Maggie showed me how she liked to be stroked, and I could tell I'd hit her hot spot, because her breath quickened and her body quivered. I realized that she was right on the edge of an orgasm, and I wanted to see it up close. Keeping my fingers churning in Maggie's steaming pussy, I slid down the bed. I sucked and squeezed each of her tits in turn, as I lightly worked my hand between her legs. I stared into her eyes as she urged me to do what she knew I wanted to do. "Go on, baby, give my pussy a good licking," she panted. "Just do what comes natural, and you'll have no problems." Maggie's was the first pussy I'd gotten my mouth on, and as I settled between her legs, I inhaled deeply of her womanly aroma. Her pussy was a deep coral color, with her lower lips opened up like a flower. I planted little kisses all over the outside of her cunt, as she moaned in heightened arousal. I swiped my tongue up her groove and followed with my lips, licking and sucking my way until I found her swollen pink bud. The second I rolled my tongue around her clit, Maggie went wild. "Ohhhhhh yeaaaaah!" she yelled, as she gripped the back of my head with both hands to keep me in place as she humped my face. "Oh baby, just like that. Ah yeah, eat me! Lick that pussy like a good boy. That's it, right... there!" My mouth was everywhere in her gushing pussy, licking, kissing and sucking with utter abandon as Maggie twitched and bucked on the bed. I could feel my cock growing hard again, just from watching Maggie in her orgasmic throes, knowing that I was the cause of her pleasure. Suddenly, I heard a sharp shreik and I felt Maggie's body tense up for a split second, then her whole body shuddered as she emitted a random series of moans, grunts and pants. I felt her pussy contract and expand as a flow of her juices covered my face. I reached down with one hand and stroked my cock, which was rock hard from watching Maggie's incredible climax. I pulled my face away from her crotch and got up onto my knees, my throbbing cock waving in front of me. Maggie looked down at me through lust-shrouded eyes and licked her lips wantonly. "Oh Robbie, yeah, fuck me," she whispered. "It's been so long. Please, put it in. I want you so bad." I didn't hesitate, but aimed the head of my cock for her wide-open pussy, fit it in and slid up her slot all the way to the hilt. As I entered Maggie's depths, a long, satisfied groan filled the room as we both finally got what we'd been wanting. "Just hold it there," she whispered, encouraging me so I wouldn't cum too soon. "Oh God, that feels soooooo goooood." I had worried about what would happen when I first got my cock in Maggie's experienced pussy, but since I had cum once already, I didn't have that urge to get my rocks off. Finally, I began to move, back and forth, with short, stabbing strokes. Maggie gently told me just what pace I needed to work with, and we were soon in an easy, steady thrust. I bent down, feeling the tingle of our sweat-slick bellies sliding together as we kissed, long, slow and deep, our passion for each other running hot. It seemed like time stood still as I worked my cock back and forth in Maggie's soupy cunt, and she worked her hips up and down and round and round, making sure I hit every hot spot she had. I could feel my confidence soaring with each passing moment that I held back my orgasm. She looked up at me with happy, sparkling eyes as we passed our lust from one to the other. Eventually, however, I could feel the quickening of Maggie's pace, and I knew she was getting close to another climax, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold on. "Go on, baby!" she cried. "Let it go! Cum in me! Cum... in... me... now!" As I felt Maggie's body shake and shudder with another orgasm, I abandoned any attempt at holding back and let her have it. I pounded her pussy with hard, fast thrusts, rutting like some demented animal. "Fuck me! Fuck me hard!," Maggie cried as her climax swept over her. "Omigod, omigod, OH MY GOD!" It was the twitching of her pussy that finally sent me over the edge. As I gathered my lover in my arms, I spewed a staccato burst of white-hot cum deep in Maggie's clenching cunt, filling her up with my seed. For long minutes, we lay there together, our bodies shuddering and spasming until our climax finally subsided. At last, I fell away, my body covered in sweat. I laid there, with Maggie's head resting on my chest. "I wasn't sure I'd ever do this again," she whispered finally, and I heard her crying softly. I just held her and told her I loved her, and she just nodded like she understood. "Why me?" I asked finally. "Why did you let me, when you'd never let anyone before?" She looked up at me, and in that moment, I don't think I'd ever seen a more beautiful sight. Her eyes were wet and gleaming, her hair was tousled in every direction and she had the most enigmatic smile on her face. "You were different," she said. "You just seemed so innocent, and lost, and so beautiful. I don't know, maybe it's my mothering instinct finally coming to the surface. You know I can't have children, don't you?" I didn't, but I had been curious as to why she'd never had any kids. Turns out, she had some problem in her uterus, where she couldn't produce a viable egg. When I heard that, I just held her all the tighter. She was so lonely, and so needy - we both were, really - and I knew that some fate had brought us together at this moment in our lives for the benefit of each other. Looking back on it, it almost seems like a fairy tale. Those next eight weeks were filled with bliss and wonder. We made love virtually every night, and she taught me everything a man could possibly know about sex and life and love. One night, we were engaging in a little foreplay when Maggie slid her hand down and began to rim my ass with a finger. So I did the same thng to her, and I ended up getting her on her knees and slipping my cock into her ass. Talk about glorious. I fucked her ass through three orgasms before I finally filled her bowels with my cum. That Special Summer Another time, we were out on a hike, on a fairly warm afternoon, when she pulled me off the trail into some woods, pulled my cock out and gave me a blowjob right there in the open. Maggie had a wild and vivid sexual imagination, and she imparted much of it to me. More than that, though, I watched her blossom as a person. No longer was she a quiet, lonely homebody, content to hide behind her grief. She joined the choir at her church, and even sang a solo, staring at me with loving eyes through the whole performance. And me? Well, the hard physical work quickly added considerable muscle to my chest, arms and legs, and the incredible sex, love and support I got from Maggie sent my self-esteem through the roof. Maggie encouraged me to go for what I wanted in life, not what my father wanted. It seemed like the summer went by in a blur, and suddenly it was the first of August, and almost time for me to leave. I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay in Colorado and live with Maggie. I mean, I was in love. I was talking about establishing residency there and going to CU. However, the next to last night I was there, after my last day of work, we went out to dinner, and she gently, but firmly told me that I had to go back. "Robert, you're life is there, not here," she said, referring to me by my given name, which I felt represented my new life. "I love you with all my heart, but we can't have a permanent relationship. Maybe if I were 10 years younger, or you were 10 years older, it could possibly work out. But you've got your whole life ahead of you, and the better part of mine is behind me." "But, Maggie, I love you," I said, as my tears began to fall. "I want to be with you." "Sweetheart, I know how you feel," she said gently, tears also welling in her eyes. "What you have given me this summer is the most precious gift a person can give another. You've given me hope. You've shown me that I can live again, that I can love again, and we'll always have that. But you have a family and a life in Texas. You have a future that is undreamed of. Go find it! Follow your heart, follow it wherever it leads you. Your heart will never let you down." We spent the entire next day in bed, trying to store up the memories, I guess. I think we fucked every way a man and a woman can fuck, until we finally fell asleep in sheer exhaustion. The next morning, I packed in silence. I knew she was right. It didn't make me feel any better, but I knew in my heart that what she'd said was right. My life was in Texas, or somewhere else, and I knew as beautiful as our love was, it was not something that had a long future. I kind of piddled around about getting my things together, getting them in my truck and getting away that morning, until finally Maggie had to insist that I get on the road. "Go, please, before I completely lose it," she said. And, after a final hug and deep soul kiss, I got in my truck and headed back to Texas. I turned to take one last look before I turned off her street, and saw Maggie bury her face in her hands and rush back into her house. I cried, too, and I mean I bawled like a baby for a half-hour as I drove down that highway, before I finally sighed, dried my eyes and set my course for the future. When I got back, I broke the news to my family that I wasn't going to Texas Tech, but I was going to enroll at the nearby junior college for a year, while I sent out applications to some four-year colleges. My dad was livid, and tried to bully me into submission, but I just serenely tuned him out. My brothers also tried to coerce me into knuckling under. Sam made the mistake of calling me Runt, which had been his derogatory nickname for me. I told him in no uncertain terms not to call me that again. When he repeated it, I pounced on him, backed him against the wall, with my iron hand on his throat, and informed him that Robbie the Runt was dead. It was Robert now, and he'd better get used to it, because I wasn't going to be his or anyone else's patsy again. My mother and my sister both backed me up, and my dad was forced to back down. It played out just like I wanted. After a year of junior college, I went to Austin, to The University of Texas, where I got involved in a variety of activities. I graduated with highest honors, and earned a Rhodes Scholarship to study at Oxford. I spent two glorious years in England and traveled all over Europe. I came back and got my doctorate at the University of Tennessee, where I'd fallen in love with another set of mountains, the Smokies. There I met my wife, and we live in that area to this day. And Maggie? We stayed in touch, and I even went to see her for a week before my senior year of college. Yes, we did make love, quite a lot, and it was so joyful. But what was really the best part was how she'd changed. Oh, she still had the long red hair, now streaked with gray, but she'd lost some weight and looked great. And her little cottage was completely different. Outside, Maggie had planted flower beds, with bright blooms everywhere. And where before the house had been a rather somber place, painted a dark blue on the outside, with pastels inside, now the outside was a bright yellow and the inside walls were also done in bright, floral wallpaper. Maggie told me a fascinating story of how that came about. She'd met a man from her church who did that kind of work, a retired gentleman in his early 60s, and he'd done the whole house. And he'd done her, as well. They'd spent the whole four months having sex while he papered her house. "I couldn't help but think of you, how the roles were reversed," she laughed. "Now I was the young one, having a ball with an older partner." And he wasn't the only lover she'd had, or would have. But she never remarried, I guess, in respect to Russ, whom she had truly loved. Later, Maggie came to my wedding, and to my father's funeral. She was a pillar of strength both for me and my mother, and they became friends. I suspect my mom knows a little bit of what went on that summer, especially when she saw us dancing at my wedding reception. But she's never said anything, and probably never will. Maggie and I still write back and forth, about three or four times a year, I've taken my family out to see her, and she's been to visit me. She's still one of my very best friends. And why not? She changed my life, and made me a man, all during that one special summer.