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Click hereThis story is fiction, and you are welcome to imagine the characters as you wish but everyone is 18+ at the time the story happens. Hopefully this is plausible. Issues such as STDs and family planning are considered outside of the narrative. BDSM aficionados may complain that she is doing it all wrong, but Natalie doesn't care about what others do, she may not like it.
This was a stand-alone story but in writing the Review and Essay, Writing the Quiet Man, the story wanted to continue. Who am I, the mere author to deny it.
I have revised it to remove some typos, to correct some errors (to make the additional stories work better) and to improve the story. So, if you have read it before, hopefully it is improved. Three more parts are in preparation and will appear in due course.
Who Am I?
Hi my name is Natalie and I have been a widow for five years since my husband, Jimmy, was swept away in an avalanche when we were in the alps. I wasn't with him when he was 'off-piste' as I had our three children to look after. Two daughters, Nadine, twenty-one and Rachel, seventeen and the youngest, our boy, James, just thirteen.
Just over two years before we had fortunately, or unfortunately as it turned out, won the lottery, on a roll over. Which is why we were on our fourth skiing holiday that year, rather than working for a living as a fitter and shelf stacker. My husband, always a bit of a thrill seeker, had really taken to the sport, but not the safety rules with regards to avalanche risks.
So there I was a multi-millionaire widow, living in a much too large house, far from my roots. Moving away was another seemingly good idea so that we wouldn't constantly have callers asking for a 'little help for an old friend'.
Now, my life was in tatters and, only now that my youngest is safely off to University, could I start to think about moving on. The only problem was how?
I worried about dating sites, I had an unusual married name, and a quick Google would bring up headlines such as, "Lottery Winner Widowed in Avalanche". I could have used my maiden name, but a reverse image search on my face would quickly get the same result, I have tried, I'm not that clueless. As a result, I feared that if I went on any dating site I would get so heavily catfished that, if there was a genuine potential suitor on there, I would never see the wood for the trees.
Also, I wasn't very vanilla in my sexual preferences, blame my thrill seeking Jimmy, but multiple partners, sequentially or group, was not my scene, so I wouldn't have been interested in any 'adult' clubs. Awkward aren't I.
Now, despite being able to afford to buy gourmet food or fancy restaurants, I preferred to do my weekly shopping in a local supermarket, a bit of class loyalty I suppose. After all, shelf stackers need the work and I never use the self-service tills for the same reason.
The supermarket has its own café, really just a simple restaurant, and I would often sit and have a latte before I went round the store, not the best coffee, but again the girl needs the work. It gave me a chance for a bit of people watching, a sort of vicarious social company which was more enjoyable than going to the cinema on my own or even with my friends, which I met via my children's education. I say friends, and we are, but again not my social class.
I went to the gym for the same reason rather than the exercise as we, sorry I, have a mini 'gym' and pool at home. I put the 'gym' in quotes as it has a second role, hidden in plain sight. One of my Jimmy's better ideas, but not one I can use alone.
Now, I am not a total sad sack, I have several female friends, but they are all married, and our social circle doesn't include any suitable men, either all faithfully married or not my cup of tea. They have given up suggesting that I find someone as I have overplayed the 'grief' and 'only one man for me' cards over the last five years.
So, back to people watching and imagining about their lives.
The Quiet Man and the Widow
I have noticed him before, quite hansom, neatly dressed, fairly fit, but always on his own and having a light lunch before he does his Saturday shopping. Tends to have a cappuccino and reads a hardback book, whilst waiting for the food to be delivered. It seems odd that such an apparently eligible man is on his own.
I realise I have seen him in the gym and once I bumped into him and he apologised to me and looked embarrassed and stared at his trainers. Now, if it is the same man, he is physically fit and about mid-thirties. OK a bit young for a forty-something, actually a lot of something, but I am constantly told I look young for my age and I am neither fifty nor dead.
So, over a few weeks, I start to pay him more interest, just out of curiosity, really, not all that creepy; it's not like I am stalking him. Much.
He definitely just shops for one, but always quality ingredients, often organic, no ready meals or pizzas and no frozen chips, unless he is shopping elsewhere, which he isn't. Well as far as I can tell, because I have never seen him go elsewhere.
He lives in a small three bed detached house with no other car on the drive, ok, I followed him home one time and might just have gone by there a few times since, a bit difficult as he lives in a cul-de-sac. I know he goes off to work by train.
He doesn't go out at night, or have visitors. From what I have seen. Alright, I get bored with TV and there is a lane out the end of his road, so I can park up elsewhere and just wander by and back again.
OK, enough stalking, time to get to know him better.
----
This Saturday I turn up a little bit later than normal so that he is already sat waiting for his meal, his one treat as far as I could tell. Thankfully, the tables that I normally pick by the window are filled with young women with rowdy children and he is sat as far from them as possible. So, latte in hand, here goes... "Mind if I sit here, it's a bit quieter?"
He looks up from his book and smiles, a good sign, and looking around he sees that there are other options, but says. "Of course not, be my guest." And he closed his book, a positive sign he is open to me talking to him, so what to say.
I read the title, or tried to, 'Llyfr Taliesin', not a clue as to what that means so not an easy lead, but here goes. "Is that some French novel?" Hoping I wasn't being too stupid. I wasn't. I saved 'being really stupid' for later.
He smiled again, and my heart responded. "No, it's Cymraeg poetry from the fourteenth century, actually a lot earlier, but that is when Taliesin wrote it down, or rather his name was used."
"Cum-raug? Where's that from?"
He shook his head, but not mocking way. "Sorry, you might know it as Wales, part of Great Britain."
Now I was really stupid... "Oh, Old English."
His face looked shocked like I had just said 'Fuck me!' Then it mellowed. "No, not the mashed up language of those barbaric Angles, Saxons, Danes and Vikings, I mean the Celtic people of that country."
I must have blushed. "Sorry, can you read me a bit?"
He picked up the book and opened it. "Certainly, this is from 'Kat Godeu, the Battle of the Trees'."
I wasn't sure what a Cat had to do with a battle, but didn't react as he spoke in a soft, almost musical voice. "Gwern blaen llin ... A want gysseuin ... Helyc a cherdin ... Buant hwyr yr vydin."
"Oh, it's not... er... I suppose it wouldn't be... . It sounded musical, what's it mean?"
He smiled. "You mean, can I translate?" I nodded, and he took a breath. "Alder, front of the line ... formed the vanguard ... Willow and Rowan ... were late to the fray." I obviously had a confused look. "The story is of an enchanter who brings trees to life to fight against the enemy."
With that his meal arrived and he thanked the young woman who brought it over and took his table number away after checking I hadn't ordered anything.
I smiled, I knew this one. "Like the wizard in the, what's name, Hobbit that some bloke wrote, my youngest, my son, really liked the film."
He was shaking his head, but spoke kindly. "It was part of Lord of the Rings, by Tolkien, and where do you think he got the idea from? But dear lady, you haven't told me your name and you don't seem to shop enough for a son, let alone a husband."
"I'm Natalie and I lost my husband skiing a few years ago and my children are at University. Well my eldest, did a Masters, but I keep forgetting, now has a job in London."
He looked interested in the mention of University. "I'm sorry to hear you lost your husband. My name is Mike. I presume your younger children don't go to the local University, unless they don't want to commute."
"They aren't and wouldn't. Tell me about yourself." It was a bit forward of me, but nothing ventured as my late husband would have said. But there again he ventured off-piste and gained a thousand tons of snow.
"Well, I'm thirty-six, work as deputy chief librarian at the School of Literature, own my own house, unattached, shop here each week and talking to a curious and attractive woman for reasons she hasn't revealed."
I realised he hadn't touched his meal and it would be getting cold. "Please, eat your lunch, I'll get another drink."
"Thank-you." And he smiled. That seemed odd, like he needed my permission. Actually, that sparked my interest even more as he seemed to like to do what I asked him.
I brought over two coffees, a latte for me and a cappuccino for him. He said he didn't normally drink two, but when I said 'well, drink this one for me' he smiled, thanked me and did. We chatted. He had got the job because his previous boss said he should apply. He bought his car because a mechanic told him he would need to change the one he had. However, he researched the best replacement. He bought a house because his parents said he should. He had it decorated because a girlfriend said he should. He went to the gym because, presumably the same girlfriend, said he should. I asked what happened to her and, again full disclosure, said she left because she had to make all the decisions and always ask for everything. Interesting.
Not once did he ask about me, so I thought I should even things up. "Do you want to know anything about me?"
"If that would please you, it would make me happy." Very interesting.
"Well, I am unattached, live in a large seven-bedroom house we bought with lottery winnings. I keep myself fit and see you at the gym occasionally. Now my children are away I have too much spare time. Enough for now?"
"I presume you don't date because you are afraid of fortune hunters?"
I was pleased at how perceptive this man was. Intelligence as well as the other trait that was interesting me. I wondered, dare I? I dared. "If I asked you to take me to your house, what would you say?"
He looked down as if he would get in trouble for asking. "Can I do my shopping first?"
I was amazed and turned on, he was like a little puppy. "What if I told you that I wanted to go now?"
He got up. "Do you want to follow me, or do you know the way? I can come back later."
I was really turned on, but figured anticipation would make things sweeter. "No. We will do our shopping first," I decided to push a button. "Go and get us two trollies and I'll meet you in the vegetable isle."
"Certainly, my pleasure." His voice clearly showed it was. As he strode off, book in hand, I admired his tight bum.
We went around the store together and I kept up with the button pushing. I told him to pick things off the shelf for me and he did with a smile even when he had to reach around me to do so. He went to pick up some porridge oats and I told him to change from his brand to organic jumbo rolled oats, at nearly twice the price, and he did, with a smile. Then I realised he had a bit of a bulge in his trousers. Very, very interesting! I'm sure he would have pushed both trollies if I had asked, or rather... told him.
We got to the checkout and, quietly so the woman at the till didn't hear, told him to pack my bags, and he did beaming from ear to ear, but acting like a personal servant.
I got him to put my bags in the car boot and then he then set off for his car, taking my empty trolly with him. "Do you need my address?"
"No, I know the way. I'll see you in half an hour." He didn't raise an eyebrow so he must have spotted me following him. I got in my car and headed home to put the shopping away and also to change my clothes.
I had already been dressed sexily, but I upgraded to a black silk waist corset with matching panties and black stockings so that I would have a dominatrix vibe if, or rather when, he took my dress off. I like a risk, it's what attracted me to Jimmy, but not so much that I would have got caught in an avalanche.
Mike is clearly nothing like Jimmy was, but that was a real turn on. No one could ever replace my husband, and Mike wouldn't touch those raw memories.
After much self-debate. I went for a white blouse and narrow black skirt with high heels, though I would leave the shoes off until I got to his house. I packed spare panties.
----
I got to his house mid-afternoon and parked outside. I put on my high heels and walked up to the front door, which opened as I approached. Mike smiled and looked me up and down in my change of clothes but said nothing. He was still wearing his casual shirt and jeans but he had removed his black lace up shoes.
I entered the living room and it was neat, tidy, well furnished and I said. "Nice, but lacking a woman's touch."
"There hasn't been a woman here to touch it for three years."
"Or a woman to be touched. Touch me!"
Mike turned and looked at me. "Where? I... I don't want to get it wrong."
"Oh, my breasts... for a start." He stepped up to me and literally put a hand on each of my breasts and held them there.
I almost snapped at him. "That's not touching them, that's barely holding them. Right, remove my blouse and bra and touch them like your life depends on my pleasure."
He lowered his head and mumbled. "Yes marm." as if he thought I would punish him. He gently unbuttoned my blouse from top to bottom, easing it out of my waist band and over my shoulders. He then carefully folded it and laid it on the arm of the settee. He put his hands on my breasts and felt them sensually, running his fingers over the silk of the cups and tweaking my nipples that were responding nicely.
I stamped my foot. "Nice, but you haven't removed my bra yet."
"Sorry." He said and reached behind me and deftly unclasped my bra and reverentially removed it. He laid it on top of the blouse and then returned to the gentle, sensual, massage of my girls and they were appreciating it.
"You may, no you shall, kiss them, and suck them." He smiled and briefly removed one hand and he clearly needed to sort out his dick. He then leant forward and started to kiss and suck on my nipples in a most delightful way, switching from one to the other. I was getting tingles and felt that I was getting turned on. I thought I would test him.
"Bite my nipples." He looked up, worried. I got stern. "Bite THEM! Twist them! Pull them! And squeeze my tits." And give him his due, he lightly bit my right nipple and squeezed my left breast and I groaned. "Harder and BOTH tits!" He looked up at me lightly worried, but I nodded and he switched to my left nipple and bit harder and I groaned and ruffled his hair.
I then roughly moved and pressed him to my other tit and he sucked hard and bit harder. The was rough with my nipples and breasts as I had demanded. I shuddered in delight and snatched him back to the other tit. I repeated it until I had an orgasm.
"Oohhh... Aahhh... Mmmiiikkkeee... OOOHHH!!!"
Oh I can have a nice orgasm from tit play. Even if we did nothing else I would need my fresh panties.
He had to stop to grab me around the hips to stop me falling as my legs nearly gave way. He moved me back and sat me on the sofa and stood there, my face looking at his groin and a large bulge. I wonder if I can be a bit cruel.
As my breathing returned to something like normal I said. "Undo your zip and get out your cock and balls!" He went to undo his belt. "DID I SAY BELT? Just the zip!" He looked pained but undid the zip and then with a bit of a struggle got out his cock. It was a nice length and width and quite hard. "And your balls!"
He struggled to get them out as well, his underwear must have made it difficult and the fly wasn't very long, but the effect of just his manhood bulging out of his clothes looked, to me, fantastic and I revelled in the thought that he was doing something uncomfortable for him just to please me. "Hands behind your back."
He did as commanded and I put my hands on his hips and brought him closer so I could first smell his clean musky male scent. Despite my sternness, I noticed a small drip of pre-cum and it looked as if there had been more, but probably now soaked into his clothes. I licked the bead off and savoured the salty taste that I had missed since the accident.
I raised my hands and held the shaft with my right and his balls with the left. The shaft pulsed, and I noticed the foreskin was quite short, a grower? His balls were quite large and dangled nicely, but tightened at my touch. I took the head in my mouth and swirled my tongue around the nice mushroom shaped head.
I removed it and used my mouth to slaver his shaft with spit and began to wank it as I put it back in my mouth. I squeezed and massaged his balls. I sucked his shaft that was leaking pre-cum. I rammed my head back and forth. I teased is hard shaft with my teeth and he stood there and took it all.
I looked up at his face and his eyes were shut and he had the look of a man trying to ignore what I was doing to him, but I could feel the trembles in his groin and his shallow breathing, he was close.
I let go of his balls, his shaft and pulled my head back, leaving his cock bobbing up and down with his pulse. I looked and his eyes were tight shut and possibly a hint of a tear. "Mike, do you want to please me more?"
He mutely nodded. "Then do exactly as I demand." He nodded again. "Grab my head hard and fuck my face, my throat, and keep fucking until you come! Do. Not. Stop!"
His eyes spang open and he looked hard at me, and I stared back, defying him to disobey me. He brought his hands from behind his back and held my head. "Harder!" I demanded. His grip tightened and I grabbed his shaft and put it in my mouth, but I didn't move. He hesitated, so, having taken a deep breath, I gave his cock a quick bite. He got the message and started to thrust in and out, clearly knowing that I could bite again.
I put my hands behind my back, giving him the message that he had to do it all. Whatever his reluctance might have been, I think he realised that, as he was close to cumming, the safest way to shoot his load and obey me was to go for it. He drove his cock as far as he could, and was probably surprised when he curled into my throat, his pubes hitting my nose.
But he didn't miss a beat, pulling back almost all the way and then driving home again. He got into a rhythm and I managed to snatch small breaths, but my eyes were streaming and my face was going to be a mess. But he was doing what I needed and brought my right hand around and into my wet panties to work on my clit, and then curl into my sopping vagina.
I shivered in my orgasm and my lack of air heightened the feeling of abandonment of reason. Then, at the ideal moment, I felt him drive home and his cock start to pulse as he shot his load into my throat.
He pulled back halfway and shot the last of it into my mouth. I didn't swallow that as I needed to breathe. But when he pulled out I was able to savour his spunk before I swallowed.