The Widow Next Door

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She wasn’t exactly the girl next door. When I left for college, never to return, an elderly couple lived in the house. They moved to a new home and rented the house out. On one of my visits back home, I was introduced to Cheryl. She was living in the house next door with her four children. Her husband had died, and she was now a single parent.

My brother talked about what a devoted church lady Cheryl was. I was married and was faithful, but I was aware that this tall, slender, well-developed, raven haired lady was a true beauty. We chatted briefly, and I excused myself. My visits home always seemed to involve my going to visit all the family members even after my long trip back home. My life would have been so much easier if I could have just visited my parents and had everyone come see me, but my family members didn’t see it that way and got their feelings hurt if I didn’t come see them. I didn’t see Cheryl again for years.

Moving forward in time, I went back home to see my mother who was in the hospital. I was getting ready for a four hour trip back home, and I went down to the hospital cafeteria to get a cup of coffee to help me stay awake. The cashier struck me as a lovely lady. I was the only customer, so we chatted freely. Her black hair, not one strand out of place, was so accentuated by the white hospital uniform that even she had to wear. As we talked, she asked, “Who did you come to visit?” When the conversation got involved, she called my brother’s name and made the connection. She was still unattached, and my wife and I were separated, divorce pending.

We began to date, but sometimes she’d cancel at the last minute, sometimes after I had driven four hours to see her. Finally we stopped dating at all. A couple of years later, I called her, and she agreed to meet me halfway, just to talk.

We met at a McDonald’s. It was not a place conducive for a lot of serious conversation, and due to a back injury, I was having trouble with the seats. I asked if she would mind if we got a room at a nearby motel but that I didn’t expect her to have sex with me. I was surprised when she agreed.

In the room, I lay one the bed, and she sat in a chair beside the window. After a while, she said, “I’m going to lie beside you, but lying is all we’re going to do.” Talking led to kissing, and kissing led to some heavy petting. My hands ended up all over her breasts, and I ended up unhooking her bra. She called a stop to the action before it got any more serious and lay on her back with her bra still unhooked..

I made a comment about her having great breasts. She lifted the top of her blouse and looked down the blouse and said, “They’re not bad, I guess.”

I said, “Wait a minute. Do that again and let me see.” I honestly didn’t expect her to do it, but to my surprise, she lifted both her blouse and her bra and gave me a very memorable view of her breasts, larger than her frame called for, but not oversized. They were still firm and luscious. I only hated that I was seeing them with her lying on her back. After we talked for a while longer, she indicated that she had to go back. She sat up on the bed and lifted the back of her blouse for me to rehook her bra. With great reluctance, I complied.

We dated a couple more times, and the second time, I was staying in a motel. After dinner, we swung by the motel and engaged in kissing and heavy petting again. This time, I got the bra off. Having done so, I began to slip out of my clothes while we continued kissing. Soon, I was totally naked. She was topless. I put her hand on my throbbing penis, and she squeezed it and looked down at it.

She turned toward me and said, “I’m going to the bathroom. If you’ll turn out the lights, I’ll let you put it in.” I turned out all the lights except for the TV, but I killed the sound on it. She came out of the bathroom totally naked and slipped under the sheet. Although slightly heavier than when I first met her, she was not by any means overweight, just more fully developed. She was a vision of loveliness, a tall Amazon with raven hair on her head and her pussy. We resumed kissing, and then I moved my head between her legs and gave her an orgasm with my mouth and fingers. The night ended with both of us satisfied and with my juices inside her.

She looked around the room and asked if that was what I called dark. I replied, “Yeah, because I wanted to see what I’ve waited all these years to get.” She laughed.

After that, sex became a normal part of our time together. One time she came to Georgia to spend the weekend with me. I was renting a room to an elderly gentleman, and I thought Cheryl’s natural love for talk was going to last all night.

Finally in the bedroom, we did what came natural. When I reached for her panties, she lifted her shapely hips off the bed to güvenilir bahis help me. I took them and wadded them up. Then I tossed them up toward the ceiling fan. We exhausted ourselves with passion.

The next morning, I woke up and looked over at the beautiful naked lady in bed with me. I reached between her legs and began to rub her clit very gently. As she slowly began to be roused from sleep, she was also aroused sexually. She was becoming wet and began to move her hips in order to increase the pleasure. After she climaxed, I entered her from behind. After a few minutes, I rolled her onto her back and got between her incredibly long legs. With her feet flat on the mattress but pulled up to her hips, she spread her legs for me to enter her.

As always, she lay with her eyes closed during sex. The night before was more finesse and tenderness. This morning it was just raw sex, animal urgings. As I climaxed into her willing womanhood, I pushed as deeply into her as possible, as I always did. The, rolling left, I collapsed beside her. It was then that we both noticed her panties. As I tossed them toward the ceiling fan the night before, they had caught. They had spent the entire night spinning around on the fan. We both began to laugh.

I rose up and took a quick shower. She showered while I was getting dressed. The image of her stepping from the shower dripping wet but totally naked almost made me pause and go for round three. With a quick kiss, I went into the kitchen to start coffee. Before coffee was ready, my renter came into the kitchen, and we talked a bit about Cheryl. I told him about meeting her and then rediscovering her.

Finally Cheryl walked out of the bedroom. Except when she was naked, I never saw Cheryl looking like anything but a model. She had never worked a high paying job, but yet worked to supplement her social security income as a surviving widow and the mother of four children. Yet, she clothed her children well, and as for her…I never saw her with a hair out of place. I never saw her in clothes that were faded, picked, or worn. And she was always coordinated and well accessorized. That ability to present herself, along with her extremely long, slender legs and tall frame did, indeed, make her look like a model as she walked into the kitchen.

In spite of her reputation as a very conservative, religious person, she came out of my bedroom still carrying my juices inside her body without any indication of shame and embarrassment. Her attitude and lack of shame over two screwings over the last eight hours would have been more appropriate for a married couple celebrating their fifth anniversary.

When we went to the jewelry store I pointed out a wedding set I had selected after hours of searching and comparing. I would have loved to buy her the Hope diamond, but as a divorcee and former single parent, I was still recovering from the years of fiscal challenge. Whatever I bought had to be within both the limit still remaining on my credit card and also what I felt like I could pay monthly.

In fact, I wanted to wait until summer to marry, in order to get some of my credit cards paid off. I had gotten a significant raise by taking an executive position, but it would still take time to dig out from under the debt I had incurred. Cheryl, however, told me that she would be working and that she had always worked. She said that if I was putting the wedding off to get my finances in order, there was no reason to do so.

My father, through hard work and much sacrifice, had made himself modestly wealthy, but even his money was tied up in cattle and land. When I was picking out the ring, I would have loved to have had those kinds of resources. Yet, I showed Cheryl the rings I had picked out. She asked the salesman to show her another set nearby. I cringed because that set was $3,500 more. After trying both on, she said, “I’m going to be working…I’ve always worked. And I’ll be helping pay for it. You know that I like jewelry.” It was true, she did. At that moment of weakness, there were two factors against me. One was that I was indeed in love. The other was that this statuesque woman who had a reputation for keeping her legs together was giving me some of the best sex I’d ever had. Whether it was the heart or the penis, I gave in and presented the credit card for the more expensive set.

There were three other times that the sex was incredibly memorable. One was the night before we married. We lay in bed, and I began kissing her. She said, “You know, we’re getting married tomorrow, so we can’t do anything tonight.”

Shocked and terribly disappointed, I reached my hand over to her ample breast and said, “So that means I can’t do this.”

“No.” Yet she gave no resistance.

“So, I also can’t do this?” I ran my hand down her firm türkçe bahis body and cupped her mound, my fingers extending deep between her thighs, almost to her hips.

“No,” she uttered without showing any sign of resistance or objection. “We can’t do that either.”

I wasn’t sure if she was serious or was teasing me, so I sat up in bed, raised her up, and pulled her gown over her head, leaving her naked except for her French cut panties. “So I can’t do this either?”

“No, we can’t do that either,” she mocked.

“So I guess that means that I can’t reach down and pull your panties down?” Without waiting for her to respond, I put four fingers into the elastic waistband of her sexy panties and began to pull. In spite of her protests, she lifted her hips off the bed to facilitate the removal of her one remaining garment.

From that moment on, it was a game. “I guess I also can’t do this to your nipples, I guess I can’t lick you here, I guess I can’t put my finger in here.” Finally, after she was extremely wet and the waves of orgasm had made her whole body shudder, I said, “Well, I guess I REALLY can’t do this,” as I slipped my penis into her waiting womanhood.

Not only did I pound her harder than ever before, but she seemed to respond a little more physically than ever before. Finally, with both of us fully drenched in perspiration, we lay beside each other recovering out breath from the pre-wedding night fuck.

The night of our wedding was also remarkable but more for what happened after we got naked more than what happened in bed. I learned that, even in a bridal suite, it is never a good idea to put bubble bath into a Jacuzzi. We ended up hidden in a mound of soap bubbles that was growing to the size of the iceberg that sank the Titanic.

The other most memorable sexual experience was back in her house in Alabama in her big four-poster bed. We were already engaged in sex. She was on her back with those long legs of hers in the air. Her luscious boobs were rocking with each thrust. Suddenly, the bed collapsed. The wooden strip attached to the side rail had broken, sending the lower corner of her side of the bed to the floor. Undaunted, we continued until my juices were firmly planted within her.

Although I owned the house where I rented out a room, I also had an apartment in another part of the state. That’s where my work had taken me. Cheryl moved down with me. However, she only worked one day and quit without notice.

She also began to go back home to Alabama every weekend. For many of these trips, she wanted to leave early, and that precluded my going with her. The crushing blow came when we went back to Alabama for a Christmas visit with family. She wanted to go visit the family of her deceased husband. I had no objections at all and told her that we’d both go. She flatly refused and said that she wouldn’t be comfortable with me going. I should have told her that if she was going, I was also going, but I was so stunned that I didn’t think very fast.

However, that matter, along with her frequent trips back to Alabama made me doubt her faithfulness, even more, her sincerity. Finally, I put a recording device on my phone while she was out shopping.

Adding to the suspicion was the fact that Cheryl had told me about getting involved with a man at work when she and her first husband were married. She said that it never went beyond kissing in the parking lot after work, but the image certainly shattered the concept I had of me being the only one ever to sweep her off her feet. She had also told me about going to dinner with a man who was a police officer. She said that after dinner, they went to his place, and with one thing leading to another, they ended up in bed. Cheryl told me that the episode with the police officer was the only time she was ever with a man sexually after her husband died. I had believed her because I wanted to. Yet, after the matter of her not wanting me to accompany her to visit her dead husband’s relatives, my suspicions had grown.

When I got a chance to play the recording, I heard a man’s voice ON MY PHONE calling long distance. He spoke with a dispatcher at his company and told the dispatcher his location. The dispatcher expressed surprise and said, “I didn’t know you made those long trips anymore.”

His reply was, “I requested this one.” When I told Cheryl that one of the nearby workers had seen a man at the apartment, she denied it and said they were either confused or lying. That night, we went to bed, and for the first time ever, we spent the night without having sex. Every time she would slide over against me, I’d inch farther away. I told her that I knew she wasn’t happy and that if she wanted to move back home, I’d do everything I could to help her in the process.

When I came home the next day, güvenilir bahis siteleri she had removed all of her things from my apartment. She had also taken what of mine she wanted. Since both the house and the apartment were fully furnished, I had no need to pack. I grabbed the recorder I had placed on the phone line, jumped into my car, and headed north.

Periodically, I would stop to call the house and also the guy who rented the room from me. With no answer, I continued driving. After about two hours, I was halfway to the house. My renter answered. He told me that Cheryl was there with her daughter, and that they were loading up all kinds of things into her car. He said that he had not tried to stop her, as he had no legal right to do so. I called one of my staff members and told him what was happening. I advised him that I would not be in the next morning and for the staff to continue without me.

When I arrived at the house, Cheryl was gone. My renter told me that she planned to come back in “a day or two” and get the rest of her things. Since sleep was out of the question, I played the recordings from my phone. Although she had told me that she planned to work, I found that she had told her daughter that she wasn’t going to. She also told her daughter that she was going to take anything out of the house that she wanted.

The house had been fully furnished when we married. My two-car garage was filled with her furniture and belongings. Her plan was to take her things back and to take whatever else she wanted. Fearing the loss of everything I had accumulated, I moved quickly. I rented a storage building and single-handedly, loaded every item she owned into a truck I borrowed from my renter. With repeated trips, I got the last of her things stored.

I went to an attorney and secured his services. I gave him a key to the storage unit and said that she could have everything provided that she sign an agreement NOT to take anything out of the house. Then I went to the computer and prepared a note for the door advising “To any deputy or other officer of the court: This house and its contents are under the protection of a court order. Under this injunction, no items can be removed by either party without order of the court.”

It was a lie, but it was the only thing I could think of that would protect my belongings from this woman I now realized I could not trust. My sweet little church-going girl was a whore, a liar, a thief, and probably an adulterer. I didn’t take her actions as an indictment against church-going ladies in general, but I certainly took her actions as indictments against her character. From the beginning, she had used what was between her legs to manipulate me because she thought I had the same kind of money my dad did. When she realized that was not the case, she bailed.

In my anger, I sought out the last lady I had dated, and although she was furious at me for having married someone else, we went to bed together that afternoon. I didn’t feel like I was cheating; I felt like I was getting some well-deserved revenge.

That weekend, I drove toward the house after taking a load of Cheryl’s things to the storage unit. I was shocked to find a moving truck in my drive, along with a deputy’s car. I did not stop at the house but drove on past it. After they left, I went to the house. My ruse had worked. The deputy refused to assist Cheryl in taking anything out of the house, and she returned to Alabama empty-handed.

The matter of the wedding rings continued to bother me. I had spent $3,500 above what I felt like I could afford, and I wanted to take the rings back and see if I could recover the $3,500 and simply lose the rest of what I had paid. I just wanted to get the debt off me. There was no negotiation. She had the rings, and she was keeping them.

Cheryl thought she had the last laugh. When she picked up the divorce papers, she got the key from my attorney, just to check and make sure everything was okay, and cleared out the storage unit. Her adding of insult to injury was to steal the lock that was on the storage unit. However, even before she signed the divorce papers, I had removed her from my health insurance to save the money. After the papers were signed and the divorce was final, I got a bill.

While Cheryl and I were still married, Cheryl had fallen down some steps, breaking a leg. She had the hospital to bill me, expecting my insurance to pay it. I was afraid that I was legally required to pay the bill since we were still married at the time of the accident and since she wasn’t working. I checked with my attorney, and upon his advice, I sent the bill back with these words written on it: “The party who signed her into the hospital is the person responsible for this debt.” Ironically, the amount of the bill was exactly the same amount as the additional amount I had paid for the rings: $3,500. I guess her pain and suffering were the interest on the $3,500. I wouldn’t have wished it on her, but I was reassured that karma has a way of bringing things home.

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