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Jimbo, JJ, and Me Ch. 01

By: squarejohn



I decided to take a chance and write a story from a woman's point of view. I would appreciate some constructive criticism from you seasoned gals. This is turning out to be a much longer story than I started to write, and there will be a few more parts to it with other characters. Let me know what you think, dear reader.

*

I was returning home from a busy day shopping for a new wardrobe, in celebration of my divorce from my jerk of a husband, when I drove past the moving van next door. "Next door," in my area, means several hundred feet away. My house is typical of the area, being four thousand square feet on a five acre lot. 

No one in the area has, or needs, a "privacy fence," because of the distance and the trees between houses. On nice days, I could sunbathe in the nude. While I am getting some sun, I often masturbate. Fingers only; sex toys really leave me flat. Call me old fashioned, but a good hard cock and an expert tongue is all I really need between my legs. It had been almost four years since I had any sex with a man. For the last year or so, I was having some tension relieving sex with Peggy.

Peggy's a neighbor, a divorcee like me, and we attend the same church and belong to the same political club. She's short, slender, very good looking, has a aura of sexiness that borders on being lewd. She has a cute overbite that somehow suggests the word, "fellatio." She likes laughing and gossip and is fun to be with. Most of all, she likes sex with men or women. With men, she likes 'em younger by at least fifteen years; she's thirty-nine and is not looking for another husband.

She's always doing something with her hair; currently it was cut short, as a man's hair, but styled in a feminine way and it was colored (this time) a dark metallic red. No many women could get away with that at her age, but Peggy carried it off nicely. Her nineteen-year-old daughter, now in a local college, was a lot like her.

I never realized women could rub their pussies together and get off like that, until Peggy showed me how it's done. The problem with that is Peggy doesn't have a cock. I like what a man has between his legs. I like looking at a hard cock, and tasting and feeling it. But nowadays I was horny enough to spend a few hours a week with Peggy, just for contact with a warm body and a few orgasms. Sometimes we just snuggled or talked at the kitchen table over coffee and doughnuts. It was a discrete and cozy arrangement. The internet term for our relationship is "friend with benefits."

I was anxious to meet my new neighbors, but there was probably chaos at their house as they were settling in, so I decided to wait a day or two before I made a courtesy call. Meanwhile, I tried on my new clothes. 

I wear pantyhose or nothing at all, ordinarily; nylon stockings and garter belt for special occasions. I had some plain bras for daily wear, and had transparent bras that hooked in front, with matching panties, also for special occasions. The panties I usually wear, if I wear any at all, are plain cotton, but I have an assortment of the silky kind too; some crotchless.

Unfortunately, with my philandering ex-husband, there had been almost no "special occasions." The few times we did dress up to go out, turned out to be not-so-special, anyway. I realized, during one of these times, that I didn't love him, or even like him, anymore. It was too often I smelled another woman's perfume on him, and told myself it was just my imagination. And I patiently "understood" when he was "delayed" and would be late. Then, one day, everything clicked together, and I saw him for what he was.

I really couldn't hold a grudge against him. He was big-hearted man, not even very good looking. He didn't chase women; they chased him. I chased him, too--and wound up with him. He was like one of those people who could stand under tree, and have birds come to them and sit on their shoulders and perch on their fingers. In his case, instead of birds flocking to him, it was women. I never could figure out what it was about him that drew the women. And he never turned anyone down. I took my wedding vows seriously and turned down all offers.

I went to a lawyer and, to make a long story short, I was now a forty-year-old divorcee with money, living alone in a big house. Trying on expensive, new outfits. 

I bought stylish, rather that fashionable, clothes. Something to catch a man's eye and make me look like the respectable, full-grown woman I believed I was. I'm tall (almost six feet), have a good figure and great legs. Standing before a full length mirror, I thought I looked just as good naked as I did wearing clothes. My breasts still had more perkiness than sag, and though they are not very big, they are very pretty, with pink nipples. But I have a plain, homely face, I think; handsome, rather than pretty. Peggy told me if I wore black lingerie and put on a stern face, I could pass for a whip wielding dominatrix.

I had bought new clothes for any occasion, from no-nonsense business suits, through cocktail and party dresses, everyday cotton print dresses for around the house and tight fitting jeans that showed off my long legs and round behind very nicely. I had a couple of oversize men's shirts, that I wear at home in lieu of a housecoat. My shoe collection ranged from flat sandals to four inch stiletto heels. I also have hiking boots and snakebite-proof pants for the outdoors.

It was almost midnight before I finished admiring the first of my new clothes; the others were being altered and would be ready to pick up in a day or so. I asked Peggy over to show her my new things, but she had a hot date with one of her young studs. Peggy likes cock as much as I, and she's aggressive--one might say ruthless--about going out and getting it.

I slept till nine in the morning, three hours past my usual wakeup time. I had cigarettes and coffee for breakfast, and while I was looking through the newspaper, I remembered I had a hair appointment. I took a fast shower, dressed in a pair of tight jeans (with pantyhose), one of my new transparent bras, and a simple white blouse. I wore the sandals with the three inch heels.

The cute gay guy, Don, who does my hair, once talked me into getting it set in the "sexy look" that was supposed to be very popular. When he finished, I thought it made me look like I had spent the weekend in a cheap motel with two sailors. Or maybe like one of those bitter women who sit around sipping herbal tea, complaining to each other that all men are pigs. Anyway, I didn't like it and had it redone to my original free-hanging style.

I made it to the hair appointment on time and with a few minutes to spare. All I needed was a cut. My hair is glossy brunette, straight and parted on the left; it hangs straight down, and, I think, it looks really good. I usually put it in braids when I go to work outdoors. A little cutting to keep the ends neat was all it needed. 

This time, Don tried to talk me into getting my pubic hair shaved. I had seen pictures of shaved pussies and decided that wasn't my style. Don, in his sales pitch, said he used an old fashioned straight razor to guarantee a perfectly smooth and close shave. He said he checked for closeness by running his tongue over the shaved area. It was a titillating thought, but I told him, "No."

After the haircut, I went to the stores that were doing alterations on some of the clothes I purchased. None of the things I ordered were quite finished.

As I walked through the mall, I was pleased with the looks I got from men. There is a small cocktail lounge which is dark and quiet and you could order a sandwich and eat it right at the bar. I had a club sandwich and a glass of beer. 

During my repast, a man tried to strike up a conversation, and I gave him the cold shoulder. Inside, I was excited. Men approach me from time to time. I could have had all the sex I wanted, but I wasn't going to be a sleaze, like my ex-husband. I wanted a man. Sex was on my list of things to do. Just not quite yet; the time wasn't right. The guy hitting on me in the cocktail lounge lifted my spirits, and I was tempted to answer his pick-up line with a welcoming smile. I wasn't doing badly for a middle age broad--if forty is middle age these days.

I nosed around in the shops, looking at purses and jewelry, but nothing caught my interest. There was a gun store at the mall where I had bought a .22 rifle the week before; I picked up a couple of boxes of ammunition for my .45 caliber revolver, went to my car, and drove for home.

When I got close to home, I remembered my new neighbors, and decided to stop by and introduce myself.

The doorbell was answered by a good-looking, strapping young man, wearing a sweaty and grimy T-shirt and faded blue jeans. He seemed shy, but that didn't stop him from looking me over from head to nylon covered toe.

I smiled and introduced myself.

"Dad," he hollered over his shoulder, "There's a lady here."

A tall, ruggedly handsome man appeared a moment later, seeming somewhat annoyed. He gave me a careful, appraising look, with intelligent eyes, and then smiled.

"I'm Ellen Parks, your neighbor next door," I said, pointing in the direction of my house.

He invited me in, saying it was "break time," anyway. He said his name was Jim, and his son was Jim Jr., also known as JJ. We went through the foyer and into the large living room. The furniture was more or less in place and there was a stack of wide, thin boxes--like pizza boxes but larger--resting near the fireplace. I guessed they contained pictures that would soon hang on the walls. The room had a freshly painted smell.

There were large sofas facing each other across a large and heavy-looking coffee table. Jim and I sat on opposite ends of one of one the sofas and JJ sat in one end of the facing sofa, facing me.

"We're not quite ready for company, but I can offer you a beer," said Jim.

I accepted, and Jim sent JJ to bring a round of beer.

"Nice looking boy," I told Jim.

He chuckled and said, "Don't call him a boy to his face, Ellen. He just turned eighteen and he's sensitive about it. He shaves now, even though he hasn't spouted whiskers."

JJ returned with two beers and a soft drink on a tray. He was obviously on his best manners. I took a closer look at his face as I accepted a can of beer from the tray. He was a younger version of his father. I would have guessed he was younger than eighteen with his innocent blue eyes, smooth cheeks and red, sensual lips. But then, the older I get, the younger everybody else looks. "Thank you, JJ," I said.

He nodded and said, "I hope the can's okay, Miss Ellen; we haven't unpacked any glasses or that kinda stuff yet."

"I never use a glass anyway, JJ, but thank you for the thought."

And then we settled into getting-acquainted talk. I told them I was just divorced and that I was a painter. "Landscapes, is what I do. I look at it as sort of a hobby, and it brings in some money."

"Can you make a living at that?" asked Jim. "I thought artists had to die before their paintings brought a decent price."

I grinned and said, "I do all right with my system. What I do is go out in the field and when I come across a view that catches my eye, I set up a canvas and paint it. Then I take it home and paint twenty copies of it, all "originals." Sort of like an assembly line."

Jim frowned in puzzlement. "How do you manage that, Ellen? 

"She's got twenty easels, Dad. Right Miss Ellen?"

I nodded and saw comprehension on Jim's face. And then he chuckled. "That sounds almost dishonest, Ellen. I'd never have thought of doing something like that. I'd like to see your 'factory.' "

"Anytime. I'm right next door. Only a hundred yards or so." That got a small laugh.

Father and son took me on a tour of their new home. It had a similar floor plan to mine, but in a mirror image. The beds were made in the bedrooms and I saw they had their computers all hooked up. 

The library was very interesting. Two walls were lined with bookshelves, and nearly filled with books. The other two walls were covered by gun cabinets and two guns were already in place. There was a familiar scent of gun oil in the air.

Four wide, thin, wooden crates, with rope handles, were stacked in the center of the room, with another stack of four off to the side. The top, open crate, had space for six rifles, arranged side by side, fitted into it. Two vacant spaces obviously held the two rifles already in one of the cabinets.

"I hope guns don't make you nervous," said Jim.

"Not at all. I grew up with guns. Daddy was a gun nut and he showed me all about safe handling and marksmanship. I have a .45 in my purse for self defense."

"Well," said Jim, looking at me with renewed interest, "you're a very interesting woman, Ellen. I think we're going to like our new neighbor, don't you, JJ."

"I think she's hot," the boy blurted, and immediately flushed with embarrassment. 

"Get out of here and do something useful," Jim growled in mock anger to his son. The boy hurried from the room with relief on his face.

Jim said, ruefully shaking his head, "The hormones are boiling at his age. He's too horny for his own good. Don't hold it against him. What he needs is to get lai...a girlfriend."

"I grew up with two older brothers, Jim. It would be worrisome if his hormones weren't 'boiling.' "

"I guess you're right. Where were we?"

"I presume we were at the end of the tour of your house, having saved the most interesting room for last," I said, moving my arm in a sweep of the room. I took a couple of steps toward one of the walls of books, scanning the shelves. "You don't strike me as a bookish man, Jim."

"I'm a writer. Novels, based on military history. How do I strike you, Ellen?"

I was scanning the titles on his books, and said, "As a military man, and judging from the book titles, it looks like I was right--or pretty close."

"I was a Marine," he said, simply.

I met Jim's eyes and said, "You also strike me as a man who could use a home cooked meal."

"You're right on that count, too. Was that an invitation?"

"Absolutely. I'm a good cook, and I like my cooking to be appreciated. What are you hungry for?"

I could almost hear the wheels turning as he thought for a few moments.

"Something I haven't had in a long time, but I really love."

"Name it."

"Meat loaf. gravy, mashed potatoes," he said. He was my kind of man.

Jim walked me to my SUV. I was startled at first, when he put his arm around my waist, but I moved closer and we bumped hips as we walked. This guy didn't waste any time I thought. But that was okay with me; I liked him. Standing at the car, I offered my cheek and he gave it a peck. His eyes locked onto mine, a searching look. After a moment, I lowered my eyes, shyly, and nodded. I could see no point in wasting time either. Jim stepped back and I got into my car.

I had to go to the market for a few things and when I got home, I showered, put on an old cotton dress, and started cooking. I even baked two loaves of bread.

I had the bread out of the oven and cooling; the meat loaf would be ready in twenty minutes. The doorbell rang and I went to it, wiping sweat off my brow along the way. Jim and JJ were in fresh clothes and they looked like they were fresh from the shower.

I led them through the foyer to the living room and Jim said, "Man, it smells good in here. Are you baking bread?"

"Nothing special, just plain white bread." I said.

"I love home made bread," Jim said. 

"Well, we have about twenty minutes--say half an hour--until everything is ready. Drinks? I have everything."

Jim and I had scotch and water, JJ had a Sprite.

Over dinner, I learned from JJ, that I was slightly famous. "I googled your name, Miss Ellen, and found a bunch of websites with you in them--even a fan club."

"You're kidding!" I said, wide eyed and open mouthed.

JJ seemed delighted with himself and his discovery and he made me promise to google my name and see for myself. 

After that topic wore out, Jim started another. He said he was a Marine captain when he resigned his commission to take up writing. He had three best sellers out of eight novels. All his books were in print and selling. When he told me the name under which he wrote, I told him I recognized it, but I had to confess I hadn't read any of his books.

I was wondering about his wife when he told me about her.

"Janet was a pilot when we were married, had her own airplane and all. She just loved to fly, didn't she, JJ?"

JJ nodded, with a nostalgic smile.

"She had one of those planes with two wings, a biplane. That thing was older than the both of us put together..It had a front seat and a back seat and we went for rides to nowhere, just for the view and the aerobics. She tried to teach me to fly, but I could never catch on. JJ could fly it, though, and I mean solo. How come you didn't want to get your license, JJ?"

JJ shrugged as he mopped gravy from his plate with my homemade bread.

Jim smiled fondly at something he saw in memory for a few moments, and then went on with his story.

"Two years ago I got a call. Janet had crashed; she didn't survive. They called it pilot error, because nobody knew exactly what happened."

"I'm so sorry, Jim," I said.

"No need to be. She died doing what she loved. It was tough on us for a while, but we got over it. Life goes on, as they say."

"Dad was drunk for a whole month," JJ said, staring at his father with pride.

This time, Jim shrugged and gave me a crooked grin.

"And now," he said, "to change the subject, how about showing us your picture 'factory.' "

We went down the long, gravel path and into the large metal shed--I didn't call it a studio--in which I do my copying. I turned on the lights and Jim and son looked around. There was a large worktable on which I kept my paint and other supplies. Twenty easels, as JJ had figured out, stood in two rows, each with a partially completed canvass on it; the original, "original" painting was on an easel at one end of the worktable. The smell of linseed oil and mineral spirits was heavy in the air, and I turned on the ventilation system.

I warned Jim and JJ that the paint might still be a little wet, so they moved gingerly among the paintings, looking closely at one, and then at another, seeking differences. They couldn't find any, but I could have pointed to a hundred. JJ said he thought I was pretty good, and Jim asked me how long it took to "do all of these." It was nice to have men around.

"I have done some in two days, working around the clock, but usually I can grind 'em out in a week. Believe it or not, it's really hard work."

"That's the paint, Miss Ellen?" asked JJ pointing at the quart size cans.

"Yeah," said Jim. "I thought artists used paint in those little tubes."

"I have about two hundred and twenty feet of canvas to cover here, guys." I said. "A gallon of paint can cover two, three hundred feet, depending. Get the picture?" We all laughed at the pun.

I was enjoying having the father and son for dinner. Except for the obvious age difference, they could have been twins. And they were real men, instead of the pussy willow types there seemed to be more and more of lately. Jim walked with a confident, military bearing, almost a cocky swagger; a man to be reckoned with; JJ walked just like his father.

Men. I was having a tingle of horniness just being around these two. I wondered how--or if--I could separate the father from the son. It seemed a sure thing when I left their house earlier. Rolling around in bed with Jim had, to put it mildly, great, animal appeal to me. I was gonna make it happen, one way or another. Humping my pussy on Peggy's thigh was nice, but Peggy was not a man. 

The area behind my house is partly a really cool deck, partly a manicured lawn, and partly my private shooting range. My two very male guests took a great interest in the shooting range. I like punching holes in paper targets with real bullets. It's a good way to relieve tension. I was pretty good with the two pistols I had; the human silhouette targets I practiced with, had "vital" areas marked on them; most of the time I could get five or six shots in them at thirty feet, firing rapidly.


Jimbo, JJ, and Me Ch. 01



The range was one hundred yards deep for rifle practice and I really sucked at that. When I talked to Daddy on the phone once a week, he usually asked how I was doing with the 30-30 lever action I practiced with, and he sometimes kidded me about not being able to hit the side of a barn if I was firing from inside the barn. 

Dad had been a Marine like Jim, and on the farm where I grew up, I was a kind of tomboy little girl. Daddy tried and tried to teach me to put rounds in the X ring with the military rifles he had, and I could never get the hang of it. He joked about it, but I sensed that he was disappointed. My two brothers could shoot as well as Daddy, but skinny little Ellen....

I told all this to my two guests and they smiled politely.

"Too bad it's dark," said Jim. "I was pretty good with the M16 when i was in the Corps, but JJ here can drive nails with a rifle. He could give you a lesson."

"Nighttime is no problem," I said. I went through the French doors and flipped a couple of switches. Lights came on at the firing line and way downrange at the hundred yard mark.

"Cool," said JJ.

In a few minutes, a target was in place downrange, and I had my new .22 lever action rifle out with a box of ammo. JJ checked my rifle expertly, loaded it, and fired at the bulls-eye target one hundred yards away. Through the powerful spotting scope, I saw a small, ragged hole appear in the center of the target as he fired.

"Wow!" I said.

JJ responded with an, "aw, shucks," grin.

He handed the gun to me and told me to aim at the target. He stood to the side and watched how I handled the gun.

"You're not holding it exactly right," he said, and walked up to me and moved my arms like he was bending metal, forcing them into the correct position. After he was satisfied I was holding it right, he loaded the gun and handed it back. I held it as before, and JJ came up behind me and made a final adjustment to my arms.

"Take a breath, let some out, hold it, and squeeze the trigger," he said behind my ear. Dad had said the same thing to me a thousand times all those years ago. 

I could feel JJ's warm breath on my neck. After the first three shots, with JJ still holding my arms in the correct position, I felt his penis grow stiff against my butt. It had been four years since I felt a hard penis against me, and JJ's penis felt good. It took real willpower for me to resist grinding my butt back against it.

By the time I emptied the magazine, JJ was tight up against me, and I thought i felt him faintly humping my behind. I turned and met JJ's eyes and gave him a "you naughty boy" look, tempered with a smile. He looked stricken. Jim was peering into the scope and didn't see any of it.

We all took turns firing until the ammo was gone then we went back inside.

Jim looked at his watch and told JJ it was almost ten. JJ thanked me for the meal and said he had to go. Jim and I walked with him to the door and he was gone.

I turned to Jim, moved closer and said, "What would you like to do now?"

Jim pulled me close, tightly, kissed me lightly at first, and then with hunger. I responded in kind. I felt dizzy and clung to him, grinding myself against the hardness between his legs. I broke the kiss and pulled him into the living room and sat him on the sofa.

I pulled his knees apart and kneeled before him. "I think you need this, Jim," I said as I opened his jeans and fished out his erect penis. I heard a sharp intake of breath as my lips closed around his shaft. I held his cock steady with one hand while my other hand went under my dress and between my legs. 

Then I started giving the first blowjob I had given in four years. I had always enjoyed sucking cock, and had become pretty adept while still being "officially" a virgin. Sucking a penis, in addition to the carnality of it, is almost a spiritual experience for me; I don't know why, but that's how it is.

A minute or so into it and Jim whispered, "This isn't going to take long, Ellen."

"Mm-hm," I responded.

Shortly after Jim saying it wouldn't take long, my mouth was flooded with the strong taste of his seed. The taste of cum doesn't really matter to me, though obviously, I can't help but note the taste. What matters to me is making a man cum in my mouth. It's like something I earned, a reward for a job well done. And I've been told many times that I do it well.

The grunts and labored breathing as my mouth filled with Jim's semen were another part of my reward. It gave me a feeling of godlike power that was beyond description but was as satisfying as orgasm. Sure, it only lasted only a short time, but God, it was good. 

A copious and forceful ejaculation is best for me, and the one that was flooding my mouth was every bit of forceful and copious. Instead of swallowing as it entered my mouth, I let it accumulate until my mouth held the full load.

When Jim finished cumming, I let his cock slip from my mouth. I rested my head on his thigh, watching his penis slowly deflate as I rolled his cum around in my mouth, appreciating the heavy texture and feeling it thin out as it mixed with my saliva. My mouth filled with the mixture and I swallowed it in a gulp, and with great pleasure. 

My busy fingers had brought me close to my own orgasm, and the act of swallowing pushed me over the edge. It was one of my better orgasms. The intensity was almost unbearable, and when it was over, I found myself lying on the floor at Jim's feet, my heart ready to burst with joy.

Jim peered over his knees, looking down at me, smiling. His eyes moved to my middle and it occurred to me that the hem of my dress was bunched around my waist. I had "forgotten" to wear panties when I showered and changed clothes. His eyes lingered on my pubic region and he seemed pleased by what he saw. 

"You were right," he said. "I really did need that."

"So did I," I said, struggling to get on my feet. Jim helped me up and I wound up in his lap. He kissed me deeply, then looked into my eyes and whispered, "I want to return the favor." 

I kissed him lightly on the lips and said, "I should shower again first. I got all sweaty cooking."

"Mm, I like sweaty," he said.

"Let's move this upstairs to my bedroom," I said, then got up and led the way.

By my bed, we shucked off our clothes in a jiffy. I got on my back and Jim got in position between my legs. He was well built, with just the right amount of hair on his chest and around his privates. His legs were attractively hairy, too. His penis was as stiff as when I first sucked it, with his balls hanging heavily beneath.

He ran his tongue teasingly along the inside of my thighs, then made a pass over my pubic bush and on up to suck my nipples. His hands glided softly up and down and all around my body. He licked between my breasts, kissed my neck and chin and the tip of my nose, all the while taking his time. I felt that I, my body, was being worshipped.

He kissed my lips quickly and whispered in my ear, "No sleep for us tonight, baby."

"Mmm," I smiled.

Then his face went between my legs and I felt his tongue brushing aside my pubic hair on its way to the inner flesh of my swollen vulva. His tongue licked up and down the length of my slit. He took his time about it, and kept licking, obviously enjoying himself.

I moaned in pleasure when he licked between my inner petals and my outer lips while my hips rose of their own accord from the bed. My eyes were lightly closed, and my head turned and faced to the right and then to the left at irregular intervals as my nervous system ratcheted up for another orgasm. 

Though I had carnal experience with many men in my time, I rarely experienced oral service such as Jim was providing. Another quick, pre-orgasmic wave made me gasp loudly, and my body jerked in spasm. My eyes snapped open and I caught a glimpse of the electronic numerals on my alarm radio. I had been wallowing in the pleasure of a man's tongue--Jim's tongue--for more than an hour.

Normally, I would have cum in ten to fifteen minutes if it had been anyone else. But my new neighbor Jim, had skillfully made the pleasure last longer. He seemed to be able to sense when I was nearing climax, and he knew how to slow down his ministrations, until that moment passed, before going back to cruising speed.

He had me floating in a zone of pleasure where I was torn between wanting it to last forever and yearning for a full-force orgasm. I felt my orgasm approaching, and this time Jim didn't let up. He kept going a little longer, and suddenly he moved up on top of me; I felt his penis glide smoothly into me, and stroke in and out. In a few moments, the reflexes of my body took over, and I heard and felt myself gasping and clutching and shuddering and and crying out. My legs were clamped around Jim's waist, the muscles straining of their own accord, to pull myself up, closer to my lover. 

My orgasm came and went in its usual way; a long, slow climb to the peak, an almost unbearable ecstasy on the plateau, and a gradual, but quick, drop back to ground level. My body went limp and I lay breathing hard under Jim as he continued fucking me. I opened my eyes and Jim was smiling down on me. He kissed me softly on my lips. 

In a few moments, Jim's smile changed into an agonized grimace. He arched backward and emitted a series of long grunts and quick gasps. I knew his penis was spurting the white fluid of his loins deep inside me. This was my first man in four years, and I savored the moment, as I had savored the mouthful of his cum, downstairs.

When Jim finished cumming, he collapsed atop me, breathing hard. The weight of his body on mine was delicious and I wrapped my arms around him. We stayed that way for a short while, until he felt heavy. I patted his back with my fingertips and Jim rolled off. We lay side by side, not speaking, gradually returning to mundane reality.

The call of nature drove me to the bathroom to tinkle. Jim went after me, and when he was done, he stood before me as I sat on the edge of the bed. Our eyes met and we laughed. We went downstairs naked and sat at the table in the kitchen, sipping beer and talking.

"That was a very pleasant ending to a long dry spell," said Jim.

"It was four years, for me," I said. "My ex-husband was so busy fucking other women, he couldn't find any time for me."

"And you were probably the best of all of them," said Jim. 

I sensed he really meant that, but false modesty compelled me to say, "Oh, come on, Jimbo. I'm not even pretty...."

"Come on, Ellen. 'Not even pretty?' You're beautiful. You just don't know it, and that alone is attractive" I saw that he was sincere. and this was certainly not the time to disagree. I wanted it to be true. If Jim thought I was "beautiful," that was fine with me.

We changed the subject and talked about our long "dry spells." Jim said that for quite a few months after his wife's death, he had no sex drive at all.

"In a way, it was a relief, like getting a monkey off your back. But, eventually, the monkey climbed back on. I still had it in mind to be faithful to Janet, so I didn't chase after women and I turned down a few very nice opportunities."

"I was always horny," I said. "All I had was masturbation. But I was going to stay true to my wedding vows. I've had men hit on me, but I simply wouldn't break my vows. Sounds dumb, huh?"

"I think they call that, 'honor,' Ellen."

"Actually, I've been having sex for some time. But it's with a woman and I don't look at it as cheating."

Jim leaned toward me over the table, smiling as though he had just found a four leaf clover. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"For some reason I thought I should tell you that, Jim. Maybe I shouldn't have."

"Why don't we change the subject, Ellen. You don't look too comfortable with this one."

"Better yet, why don't we go back upstairs. I want more of you. If you're ready?"

Jim stood and his erect penis was pointing right at me. "Let's go," he said.

I lay in bed, spread my legs wide open, and Jim mounted me immediately. The sharp edge of our sexual hunger disappeared after our first two orgasms, and we settled into a leisurely coupling. We thought our own thoughts and quietly enjoyed each others body.

My thoughts turned into a question. Now that I had abandoned celibacy, I wondered whether the weekly sex sessions with Peggy would end. But I had grown fond of having sex with her. Jim, and other men I might take up with, were definitely my preference. Like Peggy, I was not in the market for a husband; I wanted to make up for lost time, be wined and dined, sleep with a man who appreciated me. I wanted to dress in sexy clothes and have my man undress me. There was no substitute for a man, but sex with Peggy had become a habit I didn't want to break.

And then I had a thought which should have been obvious from the first. Why not have them both at the same time? I was sure Peggy would be a willing participant in a threesome. And Jim? Jim was a man. 

The carnal possibilities of three people in a sex session seemed almost limitless. Various scenarios involving me and Jim and Peggy, flashed through my mind. Without thinking about it, I began humping up to meet Jim's inward thrusts.

At that moment, Jim jammed his penis deep into me, and he shuddered and grunted as his semen exploded into me. If he had lasted just a little longer, we could have had our orgasms together.

Jim rolled off of me, breathing hard, while I rubbed my erect clit furiously. In a few moments, Jim had his face between my legs. 

"I'll finish you off, baby," he said.

I felt his fingers spread my cunt lips and his tongue began working miracles on my pink inner flesh. Then his tongue was circling my clit, and with both hands, I held him right there. In a minute or so, my third orgasm of the night swept over me. When it was over, Jim slid up my body and we kissed tenderly. He broke the kiss, and looked down at me, smiling. 

"What are you thinking?" I asked.

"How lucky I am to be here with you."

I chuckled and said, "I was thinking the same thing, Jimbo."

Then we entered into one of those lengthy post coital conversations in which we discussed everything from the peculiarities of the local weather, to solving all the world's problems, and discussing the secrets of the universe. My hand wandered to Jim's cock and balls and I felt his erection grow in my hand. Almost absently, I climbed aboard Jimbo and lowered myself onto his penis. Our conversation went on, but in the back of my mind, I was thinking what a stud my Jimbo was.

Once, in college, I had spent a night in a motel with a man who lasted through three orgasms. After that, some men I had could go two times, but most were good for only one orgasm. I was aware that there were men who could cum again and again and now the man who was attached to the penis I was riding, was on his fourth go. I wondered if he was good for five times.

Our conversation halted as we settled into another leisurely fuck. Only the sound of our breathing could be heard. No distracting thoughts entered my mind, there was only a delicious awareness of Jimbo's rigid cock in me as I rode him, and that was all I needed

From time to time, on impulse, I lowered my face to his and kissed him. And from time to time Jim would pull me down to him and kiss me. Not wild, wet, open-mouthed kissing, but tender kisses, affectionate kisses; little pecks of appreciation that put a fine point on our shared intimacy, and made it somehow sacred.

As I rode Jim, I studied his face, which, at the moment, reflected pure contentment. It was a seasoned face, with marks of character on it. I saw tiny scars around his eyebrows, and another one on his chin. There was a slight crook in his nose as though it had once been broken. His sensuous lips had caressed my nipples and other private parts with such skill that my toes curled. I bent down and kissed him, softly, and received a soft kiss in return.

He opened his blue eyes and seemed to study my face in turn. His look became intense, and suddenly, with a series of long animal grunts, his hips arched up, lifting me right along. It was his fourth orgasm; I felt like I hit the jackpot. I wasn't even close to orgasm, but I felt satisfied nonetheless. When he finished climbed off.

When Jim caught his breath, he went to the bathroom. The sound of his pee gurgling in the toilet gave me a cozy feeling of comfort. It really was nice to have a man around the house. 

Jim returned from the bathroom saying, "I could use a cold beer, Ellen. Let's go down and have one."

I jumped from the bed, steered Jim over and sat him down on the edge of the bed. "Let me get them, Jimbo. You stay here and save your strength." I punctuated that with a loud, smacking kiss on his chest. I was glad to do something for my man.

Downstairs, I noticed the grey light of dawn on the windows. Jim didn't seem in a hurry to get back to his house; I could fix breakfast for him later. Anything he wanted. I took two cans of beer from the fridge and trotted back upstairs.

Jim was sitting in bed with his back on the headboard; the room smelled of sex. I handed Jim a can and we popped our beers in unison. "It's starting to get light outside," I said. I pulled the heavy drapes aside, to reveal the approaching light of day. 

Jim chuckled and said, "I feel like I just got here. Well, time flies when you're having fun, to coin a phrase."

"It's more than fun, Jimbo. It's...." My eyes filled with tears.

"Hey, Ellen. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I sniffed, knuckling away my tears. "I'm just so...happy, Jim. I almost forgot what it's like to be with a good man."

He leaned over and kissed my shoulder. "You made me happy, too, baby."

He held up his beer, making a toast. "To the end of our dry spell."

"To the end of our long dry spell," I echoed. And we both laughed.

After a few moments of reflection, Jim said, "What would your woman friend--Peggy?--think if she walked in here right now."

I laughed out loud. "When it comes to sex, Peggy turns off her thinking and operates on instinct. She'd probably jump right on top of you--after wrestling me out of the way--and ravish you."

"She's like that, huh?"

"I may have exaggerated--but not by much." The idea of being in bed with Peggy and Jim had a certain, dirty, appeal.

"Have you two ever had a man in bed with you?" asked Jim, not quite innocently.

"No. I never was in a threesome. Were you?"

"I probably could have been, but I was too dumb at the time to recognize the opportunity."

"But you're not too dumb now, are you?" I asked mischievously.

"If you mean right now, I'm pretty much fucked out," he said, pointing to his deflated penis. "I would like to see two women, uh, making love. Maybe even jump in."

"I can talk to Peggy, Jim. I'm sure she'd jump at the chance. When we're all...rested, we could have a little get together." As that registered with him, I saw his penis move.

While Jim considered that, I crawled between his legs and took him into my mouth. I could taste us both on his penis.

"I think you're going to have to work for it this time, Ellen."

I stopped what I was doing and replied, "I hope so, Jimbo. I hope so."

My mouth went back to his crotch, bypassing his flaccid cock to lick his balls. He moved a little to to give me better access, and I sucked one of his balls into my mouth. I inhaled the heady aroma of his manhood as my tongue softly caressed the delicate orb. Jim moaned in pleasure. After a while, I paused to pick a pubic hair off my tongue and wiped it off my finger on Jim's thigh. Then I sucked the other one, and Jim moaned again.

I looked up and saw that his penis was almost fully erect. I stopped servicing his scrotum and put my mouth over his penis. Within a few seconds, his cock was just as hard as the first time I sucked it.




Jimbo, JJ, and Me Ch. 01



"You have a real talent for that, woman," he said.

I looked up at him and winked. Jim chuckled.

While I leisurely sucked Jim's penis, I held his scrotal sack in my hand. Then I wet a finger and wormed it into the crack of his ass until I touched his anal ring. I continued sucking and enjoying it. I didn't mind "working for it." I was in heaven.

After some time, my jaw began to get tired. I sensed that he would soon cum and I soldiered on.

His orgasm arrived suddenly. Three things happened at once. Jim grunted and growled; his buttock cheeks squeezed together, trapping my finger; I felt and tasted his semen as it shot across my tongue. As before I let it accumulate in my mouth, and noted the quantity was much less than before; it was understandable, as this was his fifth ejaculation of the night.

Jim's chest was heaving as I slid up on his body. I pressed my lips to his and when his mouth opened, I released his semen and it flowed into his mouth. That startled him, but he held my head to keep our mouths pressed together, and we passed my reward back and forth until it was all dissipated.

Jim rolled us over until I was on my back, under him. He was grinning with delight and he said. "You really are a very naughty girl, Ellen. I love it."

We lay wrapped around each other for a while. Then the mood of sex and lovemaking silliness ended. It was time to quit that and move to the next thing, which was breakfast. I threw on one of my "house-shirts" got coffee and breakfast started while Jim showered.

I seemed to be moving around in the kitchen with a spring in my step, and I was smiling and humming a tune. Just as I was poised to crack an egg into the skillet, I stopped--frozen in place. Something was very different. And then it dawned on me: I was happy! The realization made me tingle. There had been nothing wrong with me that a divorce from a bad man, and a night in bed with a good one, couldn't cure. No more anti-depressant pills for me. 

Jimbo walked into the kitchen as I was putting the vittles on the table. He kissed my cheek, while getting a feel of my ass, and said, "You look damn sexy in that shirt, Ellen." Then, "Is all that for us?"

"Didn't we work up an appetite, last night, Jimbo?"

I had filled a large platter with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, ham, fried potatoes and buttered toast made from what was left of last night's homemade bread. Jim sat down and began to dig in.

"Yeah," he said, chuckling. "I knew sex with you would be good, but...goddamn!"

"I know, Jimbo. I haven't felt this good in a long, long, time." I started putting food on my plate.

We ate in comfortable silence for a few moments until a thought popped into my mind.

"It was pretty convenient for JJ to leave when he did. I was wondering how I could get you alone. Did JJ have a date or something?"

"Something like a date," Jim replied. "He has these web-cam chats with two or three 'older' women. He had a chat scheduled with one of them at ten last night."

I didn't know much about the internet beyond email and Yahoo news.

"What do they do?" I asked naively, as the somewhat shocking answer flashed into my mind.

"Well, they talk dirty and masturbate. It's not the real thing, but I guess it's better than nothing at all. I wish he could find a girlfriend and get some practical experience."

"So you don't mind him doing...that, with older women?"

"No. What worries me is if he gets involved with a gay website and develops a liking for that kind of thing. He needs a real flesh and blood woman."

"As far as I know, there are no girls his age in this area, Unless you count my Peggy's daughter, Rita. She's in the local college, has a small apartment near there. She's a wild girl, Jimbo. And she rarely comes around here."

Right now he thinks "older women," like you, for instance, are the best thing since bubble gum. What about your friend, Peggy? You mentioned she likes young guys.

I laughed at the picture that formed in my mind: A terrified virgin boy, JJ, being devoured by a carnal-ivious Peggy.

"What's funny?" asked Jim.

"You said he was a virgin?" Jim nodded.

"Peggy would jump at the chance to get her hands on him. But she comes on very strong, Jim. I was a little frightened myself the first time we...did anything."

"Maybe I could talk to her...first."

"Maybe you should see her in action," I suggested. "Like when we have our little threesome, later this week."

"I wonder if I'm biting off more than I can chew, Ellen. You're all the woman I can handle at once."

"We don't have to get with her. It's just that you mentioned you'd like to watch two women have sex. That would take some pressure off of you. I'm used to Peggy, and I like being watched."

"That's not gonna get my son laid."

A thought that was in the back of my mind suddenly came up front and center. Its origin dated back to the previous night, when JJ was showing me how to hold the gun, and the memory of his erection pressing against my behind.

"I could be his first...woman, Jimbo." It was said almost inaudibly, but I said it looking into Jimbo's eyes.

Jim, leaned back in his chair and considered that for a long moment.

"Jesus, Ellen. I don't know. No, don't say anything. Let me finish."

He poured coffee into his cup and said with a knowing grin, "This is not altogether an altruistic offer, is it, Ellen? You're a very sweet woman and the only problem I have with your...offer, is that he is just a young kid. Sure, he's eighteen and can do what he wants, but he's a virgin. The minute he slips his cock into you, he's gonna fall in love with you. Will you be able to handle that?"

"Yes, I'm sure that would happen." I seemed to suddenly have a frog in my throat. Jimbo was right. JJ would fall in love with the first woman he fucked--any virgin boy would. "Until the next woman came along," I said.

Jimbo slapped his thigh and laughed. "Peggy?"

With a broad smile of self-satisfaction, I nodded. "He'll be a veteran, then, and won't be terrified by Peggy."

"I've got to meet this Peggy. Preferably someplace safe."

"Oh, she's not some kind of sex monster. She's really very sweet."

Jimbo grunted.

"How are we gonna schedule these...activities?" said Jimbo.

"After last night, Jimbo, I'm going to have to get some rest. You too, I suppose."

"Yeah. I'm going right to bed when I leave here. We can talk it over later, tonight. Or tomorrow."

I yawned and said, "Yes, I am a little groggy."

I walked Jimbo to the door and he kissed me very tenderly and said, "I'll see you later, Ellen."

I put the breakfast dishes into the washer, wiped the crumbs off the table, went upstairs, showered, and went to bed. I fell asleep with the image of JJ's innocent, almost pretty, face in my mind.

When I awoke, it was dark outside, but not very late, about seven. Some people would still be at supper. I had mild aches in the muscles of my legs and abdomen and shoulders. They were the kind of aches that "hurt good." I wondered if Jimbo had similar aches. I took a fast shower to wake up, then got the coffee started.

While the coffee was brewing, I called Peggy. She answered on the first ring.

"Oh, Ellen, I was just going to call you. What's up?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to come over and...talk."

"Is everything all right?"

"It couldn't be better. That's what I wanted to talk about."

"You got laid?" There was a tone of amazement in her voice.

"I'll tell you about it when you get here." And I hung up.

Peggy showed up in five minutes. She had changed her hair color to brunette, but the mannish length and feminine style was the same.

"I want to hear every detail, Ellen. I was beginning to worry. It's not good for you to go for such a long time without a man. But first, let me get a little business out of the way."

We went into the kitchen and we had coffee in heavy mugs. Peggy placed three keys on the kitchen table. 

These are new keys to my house. Remember how you had to jiggle and jiggle the key to get it to work? I finally got tired of that, and had all the locks changed. So you can throw out my old keys."

We had an arrangement in which we watched each other's house when one of us was away.

"Okay," I said, inspecting the tags on each key. They read, "front," "side," "rear."

"Just keep an eye on the place, while I'm gone. One of my uncles died and I'm going to his funeral. He had money and I might be in his will. Anyway, I leave early tomorrow morning and I'll probably be gone a week or so."

"All right Peg. I'll make sure the newspapers don't pile up in front. Still have the same numbers for the alarm?"

"Yeah. Now tell me about last night," she urged. Her eyes were sparkling with naughtiness.

I told Peggy every detail, and she hung on every word. I could see it was turning her on; she had that glazed look she gets when her pussy is wet. I was careful to leave out any reference to JJ. I wanted to be the first woman to spread her legs for him.

Peggy said she needed to pack and get to bed early. Her flight left at 6 am. She gave me a friendly kiss at the door and said she was happy for me having a man. When she drove away, I closed the front door and was still in the foyer when the doorbell sounded again.

It was Jimbo. I was glad to see him. If he wanted a second helping of sex, I would be happy to serve it to him.

"You just missed Peggy," I said. "She's catching the first flight out in the morning."

"Yeah, me too. The phones been ringing off the hook all day. Didn't get any sleep to count as much. I have to fly out tomorrow, myself. God damn lawyers!"

"Coffee?" I said. "It's still pretty fresh."

"Nah, thanks anyway. I'm going to try to get a little sleep between now and five am. Maybe a stiff belt of that good scotch we had yesterday?"

He sat on a sofa while I poured an extra heavy dose of whiskey into a glass. His eyes were on me as I carried it across the room to him.

"Ellen, Do you have any idea how sexy you look going around in that shirt?"

"I just like wearing it. You're the only man ever to see me like this. It's my idea of a housecoat."

He grunted and took a sip of whiskey.

"Remember us talking about...improving JJ's sex life?"

"Of course. I remember saying I wanted to be his first woman."

Jimbo smiled and said, "I'll be out of town for three, four days. Maybe a week. Do you think you could..."

"Don't you worry, Jimbo. I like him. I will take very good care with him. I'll feed him too. And make sure he eats all his vegetables."

The sarcasm got a grin from him.

"That vegetable part might piss him off. He's a meat and potatoes guy--like his old man."

"He can eat what he wants. I'll take good care of him, Jimbo."

"I still feel a little...I don't know. Sneaky, I guess."

"Jim. let me tell you something. I grew up with two older brothers on Daddy's farm. When I started filling out, growing into a young woman, those two brothers started pestering me. Peeking in my room when I was dressing, running by and lifting my skirt, that kind of thing. You know?"

Jimbo nodded and tossed off the rest of his drink.

"Well, one day Daddy had them get cleaned up and made them put on their church clothes and he took 'em to town."

"He got them laid." Jim said matter-of-factly.

"Yes. Back then, in that part of the country, that was part of growing up for boys. After that, they started treating me with some respect, at least as far my privacy went."

"So you're telling me I'm--we're--doing a good thing?"

"I don't think it's a bad thing, Jim."

We wrote down each others phone numbers, then walked to the door where I gave him a proper uxorial-like kiss, and he went on his way. 

Then I realized what I had agreed to, and I had second thoughts. I went to the wet bar in the living room and drank a healthy slug of whiskey from the neck of the bottle.

I stretched out on the sofa and thought about it. My mind was filled with doubts. What would Jimbo think of me after the deed was done? How would Jim Jr. react to any overture I made? It was possible I could scare him off, and that would be a disaster, How would I lead into it? It would have to be a plausible scenario. 

I couldn't just grab his crotch and say, "Let's fuck." I was more than old enough to be his mother. I was still attractive to men; I didn't need to take an eighteen-year-old boy to my bed. Boiled right down, I was doing a favor for the boy's father. Oh, Ellen, how low can you go!

But I did volunteer for this. And what was so wrong with it, anyhow? It would be consensual sex between two people of legal age. And wouldn't it be something special to be the first woman he screwed? Well, it would be special to me, anyway. To watch his face as he entered me for the first time. Take him into my mouth. Semen from a virgin. Would it have a special taste? The truth was, I really wanted him.

This line of thought was making me nervous. I turned on the TV. Then I went into the kitchen and started cleaning places I don't regularly clean. The tops of shelves, behind the refrigerator, under the sink. I even moved the table and chairs from the kitchen and scrubbed the floor. Then waxed it. It was midnight by the time I finished, and, having slept all day, my chances of going to sleep easily, were nil. Just nervous energy, as if I was the virgin.

I was worried, more than anything, that JJ would reject me as being too old. But then, he had blurted that I was "hot." And when he was guiding my arms during rifle practice, his erection pressed against my behind was hardly a sign of rejection. My mood brightened.

But I needed to get back on my regular sleep cycle. I had sleeping pills. One of those washed down with a double scotch was sure to put me out in a hurry. In twenty minutes my eyes became heavy and I crawled into the sex rumpled bed, The wet spot had dried, Jimbo's scent lingered in the bed linen and I took comfort from it. The sleeping pills and whiskey kicked in and I slept soundly.