A Widower's Journey

Yvonne by SteveBriton

I am attempting to learn how to write stories that will appeal to women and appreciate any suggestions, especially suggestions from women, who can tell me how to make my stories more appealing to them. This story was written by me alone and is entirely fictional.

When my wife died I was devastated. She was my soul mate, my lover, my best friend. We had both been married before but neither of us had ever had a real relationship. What we had in the past were room mates, friends with benefits, or less. My wife's first husband was mean to her, mentally abusive and sexually selfish. My first wife was a beautiful woman with a heart of stone and a bad attitude toward the world. She was, in short, a ball busting bitch.

When I met Linda it wasn't love at first sight. It was a business relationship. I had a girl friend (well, a fuck buddy) and Linda was married but legally separated with final divorce decree pending. We had heard of each other through friends and had enough information to respect each other before our first meeting. Working together we developed a growing respect for each other, and the trust that doing business generates when all parties are dependable and keep their word. Over time sparks started, just a little. Neither of us made a move on the other for a long time, nearly two years, but I was aware that something was developing. I had broken up with my FWB and was going out to dinner with a mixed group of friends including Linda and needed to change clothes. Linda had a change of clothes in her car, so did I, in my car. We were driving our separate vehicles and I pulled over to a group of dumpsters behind and industrial building. Not the most romantic place but that's where I pulled in. I got out and so did she and I said "I need to change clothes and this looks like the only place between here and the restaurant. She grabbed her cloths from her car and went behind a dumpster and changed while I went behind another dumpster changing. We weren't kids, we had both been married, but it seemed the right way to handle things at the time. I didn't peek.

Not long after that we both had a bit too much to drink one night and ended up at my house. Before I knew it we were rolling around on the sofa like two high school kids in the back seat of a car. We got naked and had sex. I'm not sure that we made love that night but we did have intercourse. The next morning I woke up and the first thing that went through my mind was "I hope Linda won't wake up regretting what we did last night. I hope she won't jump up and flee". Then, she woke up with a smile and we cuddled and it was obvious she had no regrets. I had to ask her anyway, " any regrets?" And she said "No. How about you?" Then we made love and it was much more than just sex. After that we had a bit to eat and a shower, soaping each other up, me shampooing her hair. We were laughing and frolicking. Back in bed I gave her oral sex very lovingly and gently and learned how multi-orgasmic she could be.

After a few weeks we knew we were in love, but with a much more mature and realistic outlook on life than either of us had when we were younger. Eventually we moved in together and after over two years of "living in sin" were were married. We both worked hard, traveled, had nice cars and bought a decent home. Our love life just kept getting better and better.

Linda was always multi-orgasmic and I had pretty good stamina and control. Before my first marriage I had an older woman as a girlfriend for a while who taught me a few things about pleasing women. Linda always needed at least three and sometimes five or six orgasms to be satisfied. Sometimes I'd manually work her clit for one, eat her for another, and fuck her until she lost count of orgasms and both of us were completely exhausted, spent, weak and covered with sweat. I was always gentle with her and took my time working her up. That doesn't mean we didn't fuck hard and fast at times. What I mean is, I didn't hurt her. Our love making, no matter how intense or active, was always done with love. Early in our relationship I licked her clit until she came and she said "I guess I should give you a blow job now." I responded with something like "Should is the wrong word. It implies an obligation. No woman should ever feel like she should do that or anything else. If you want to suck my cock, if you can get off on it, then go ahead, but please, don't do it as a favor to me." That comment seemed to be some kind of revelation for Linda. She thought it was expected or demanded. Over time we had lots of oral sex (and everything else a loving couple can do). We both liked "nooners" since we weren't so tired as at night, and after housework and yard work on Saturday or Sunday morning and a shower and we had some of our most spectacular, marathon sessions of love making.

Linda was more than my wife and best friend. I didn't want to go hunting or fishing with the guys, I didn't want a golf day or a bowling night. I wanted to do everything with Linda and she wanted to do everything with me. We visited nude beaches and stayed at a nude resort once, but we were never swingers. I didn't find myself attracted to any other woman. I don't mean I didn't enjoy the tits and shaved pussy at the nude beaches. About 90% of the people we saw on nude beaches were shaved, and that included both men and women inside and outside of the country. We started shaving early in our marriage. I just couldn't get enough of going down on her shaved pussy. And the way she teased me on the nude beaches drove me crazy...spreading her legs and smiling at me and making remarks about the things she wanted me to do to her and the things she wanted to do to me.

Then, Linda got sick....It was advanced and fast moving cancer with no chance of survival and a course of treatment that could only be worse than the disease and could buy her a few extra weeks at most. She opted out of treatment. After a few weeks she died.

After nearly a year of moping around and having no interest in anything my barrister gave me a tennis racket. It was his old racket and it was well-used. He had recently bought a fancy, new "space age material" racket. He told me that I was too young to give up on life. "Take this racket and rebuild your life around it". Reluctantly I took the racket and promised him that I'd at least attempt to get back into tennis at the public tennis courts near my home. They were blacktop, unlike the clay courts I played on at the club I'd belonged to years earlier. I had quit tennis due to a shoulder injury that I got riding (wrecking) my motorcycle dirt riding. The shoulder had healed but I'd never gone back to tennis...until now. Here I was in my mid 40's. Not wanting to deal with any social situation I went to the court early Saturday morning, just after daylight. When I tried to hit practice serves alone they went wild. I tried hitting the ball against a wall so it would bounce back to me and I could hit it again. Boy was I lousy.

As I was hitting the ball against the wall I noticed a woman standing watching me. She just stood there a while, so I finally asked "can I help you". She said "I'm meeting friends here and I'm early. We play every Saturday morning. You can join us if you like". I said "Thank you, but I don't think so." Then she said "What's your name?" and I answered "Steve, Steve Briton, what's yours?" She replied "Yvonne" (no last name). At this point I was near enough to her to see that she was about 40 years old, attractive in a "gal next door kind of way". She had medium length brown hair tied back, little or no make-up. I continued to size her up. Shorts, not very short ones though. I wondered how she'd look in a short tennis skirt. (Maybe I was alive after all? I hadn't noticed anything about any woman since Linda died.) She was maybe five pounds over weight, not quite perfect, but then those women who are "perfection" with perfect make-up, beauty parlor hair and fake tits are usually not all that nice. I could see she had nice legs and very nice bum, medium size tits, and a friendly warm smile. (Hey, any man age 13 to 99 is going to notice the tits, unless he's dead). She looked like the soccer mom next door. I then noticed that she was wearing a wedding ring. That was a relief for me. I didn't want any social situation with a single woman. I'm not the most handsome guy in the world but before I was married I didn't have any trouble getting dates. I have a decent job, decent car, decent home and I'm fairly tall, just over six feet, and only about ten pounds over weight. I haven't been hit on very often by women, but I've learned to watch out for what a woman is up to if she does hit on a man. Especially a married woman. But Yvonne didn't come on to me at all.

I asked "Does your husband play?" She said "No, Rob is home with the kids." This woman, Yvonne, was very open and friendly without seeming forward. She had such a nice smile, and pretty face. "Oh, you have young children?" "No, they are older, but they don't play tennis either. More into computer games." We continued to talk and I learned that she works in an office downtown. She was a bit vague about where she lived or worked, but no wonder. I was a stranger she had just met. Yvonne then asked me if I'd just hit a few balls with her until her friends arrived. We swatted a few back and forth and I was absolutely awful. No control of the ball at all. "Did you just take up tennis?" Yvonne asked. "No, not exactly" I replied. "I used to pay but haven't had a racket in my hand for about ten years". She said "Until today? What made you decide to come back after ten years?" We continue to hit the ball with her doing most of the hitting and me mostly chasing the ball as I hit wild or missed it completely. "A shoulder injury some years back and a few other personal matters." She said "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry." About then a car pulled up and a couple got out. They looked to be in their forty's, dressed in tennis cloths like Yvonne. I mean, shorts and T-shirts, tennis caps and tennis shoes but not the expensive, fancy, color coordinated outfits you see on the country club crowd. Their car was a Camry, maybe three or four years old. They looked middle-class, unpretentious, like Yvonne.

"Hi Mary. Hi Frank. How are you guys today" Yvonne said as they walked over. "This is Steve, and it's his first day here. He says he doesn't want to join us but maybe you can help me change his mind". Frank walked over and shook my hand and said "Well, we wouldn't want to make anyone play against their will, but this is just a friendly informal thing here. We don't play hard and we don't care who wins. It's just for fun." I repeated that I'd been away from the game for ten years and that I was terribly rusty. Frank said it didn't matter. A couple of more cars arrived and then we had a mixed group of about ten people. After introductions everyone started hitting balls around. Then it came time to play mixed doubles and Yvonne looked at me and smiled and I knew what she was saying with her eyes...an unspoken "Come on Steve, be my partner for just one game." Without saying a word I took my place. Although I was clearly the worst player there, I improved several hundred percent within fifteen minutes. I was actually returning some volleys and landing some of them inside the lines. Tennis isn't like riding a bicycle but it's not all that different either.

Whenever Yvonne was in front of me I couldn't help but look at her bum. It wasn't that her shorts were short or tight, but that five or so extra pounds she was carrying made for some nice curves. He blouse didn't accentuate her tits and she obviously wore a bra, so no pokies and no jiggle. She didn't act sexy...but she sure had a nice bum and legs. I realized then that not only had I not looked a a woman's bum in a long time, I also hadn't been laid since Linda got sick...nearly a year now. With Yvonne being married and not flirting, and me knowing better than to ever mess with a married woman I figured it was time to go home and wank off. Surly there was something online to stimulate my interest. We played a few sets, switching partners, and no matter who was my partner, we lost (thanks to me and my terrible playing). Nobody seemed to mind. Finally Frank said "It's getting hot, let's hit the 19th hole". I'm no teetotaler but I don't drink in the morning, not even in the afternoon, and only occasionally in the evening. I said "Count me out, I'm going home." Then Yvonne said "We don't really go to the 19th hole. Frank just calls it that. We go to a local bagel shop for tea, and maybe a bagel. After all this exercise you must be thirsty." "OK" I replied. "Which bagel shop" and Yvonne said "The one on Maple, you can follow me if you don't know it." I jumped into my car and followed Yvonne and the others.

There were a bunch of small tables and a counter and one big round table where the others started to sit down, so I followed. Yvonne sat right next to me. She didn't sit overly close, she didn't flirt, we didn't touch. The conversation was light and stayed away from religion and politics. I learned a few personal things about the others, that Frank was an alcoholic but hadn't had a drink in 15 years, his wife, Mary, was a nurse and worked odd hours, ten hour days, four days a week with three days off. Then Yvonne looked at my wedding ring and asked me about my wife. I kind of choked up and said "I don't have a wife." I couldn't bear to say that Linda was dead and that I wear my wedding ring because I can't let her go. The ring is my sign to the world that I am not available. Frank asked "Then why do you wear a wedding ring?" Yvonne must have seen that I was close to tears. She said "Frank, let it go." I was off the hook, at least for now. Yvonne changed the topic and directed the conversation for a minute or two until Frank's question was, hopefully, forgotten. Our tea and bagels arrived and we we stayed about 30 more minutes before everyone got up and we all said our goodbyes.

Outside as I was getting in my car Yvonne said "Different people play early Sunday mornings. I'm usually there and though a different crowd, they are as nice as the people you met today." With that she got into her car and drove off. I went home, flipped on the computer, surfed for some porn and wanked off, all the while thinking about Yvonne's bum. Then I did some yard work, washed the car, went to the grocery store and fixed dinner. There was nothing on TV worth watching so I went to bed early without setting the alarm.

Sunday morning I awoke at the first hint of dawn, and got out of bed with just a little bit of enthusiasm, which was a lot more enthusiasm than I'd had since Linda died. I had a shower and put on shorts and a T-shirt and my tennis shoes and headed for the public courts. Yvonne was already there hitting the ball up against the wall. She was dressed the same as before, different colors but the same kind of clothes, ordinary. She had her hair tied back and was wearing little or no make-up again. When she saw me she said "Steve, I'm glad you came!" I replied "Thank you for inviting me Yvonne." "Steve, it's a public court, you don't need an invitation. Anyone can play, any time." "Yes, I know, but if you hadn't invited me I wouldn't have known to come." We fell into place hitting the ball against the wall to each other to get warmed up. Then we moved to the net and played a slow easy game of singles. We chatted and whenever one of us hit a good shot the other paid a compliment on it. After a little while three cars pulled up at almost the same time and three more couples joined us. We played mixed doubles swapping partners and opponents. Yvonne was my partner a couple times and my adversary a couple of times. Whenever she was in front of me I got another good look at her very fine bum and great looking legs. Everyone was friendly. This wasn't a blood sport by a long stretch. My playing continued to improve. After about two hours play with only a couple of short breaks everyone decided it was time to call it quits for the day. About half of us headed for the bagel shop.

Yvonne was seated at the round table when I arrived so I went over and sat next to her. She smiled and we chatted with everyone. Whenever Yvonne looked at me she smiled, but not the kind of smile a women gives when she's coming on to you, not an invitation, just friendly, open, without any agenda. What a nice lady. I asked her about Rob and she said they get along OK but they have different interests. Yvonne told me she is a type A and Rob is type B. He plays golf and has a pool table in the house. Yvonne used to play volley ball, now she's into tennis. She says Rob is quiet, not gregarious, somewhat shy. He's a hard worker and a good provider and good with the kids. Yvonne: "Rob is kind and I trust him, I respect him. He is a bit of a stick in the mud, very conservative and traditional, and quiet." After a while everyone finished their tea and we all went home.

The next few weekends were pretty much the same except for when it rained. When it rained there was no tennis. Saturdays and Sundays I went to the tennis court early, mostly the same people showed up, give or take one or two. We played mixed doubles and went to the bagel and doughnut shops. After a few weeks I was into the routine and starting to feel at least half way alive. One Saturday morning I was sitting next to Yvonne at the bagel shop and I saw her looking at my wedding ring. I'm sure she didn't mean to stare at it. I guess she couldn't help but wonder about my comment "I don't have a wife." I said to her in a very low voice, almost a whisper, "Linda and I had a wonderful relationship but she died nearly a year ago. I'm just putting one foot in front of the other, trying to get on." Yvonne looked at me with sympathy in her eyes and placed her hand on mine and whispered "I thought it might be something like that. You don't have to talk about it, but you can if you wish. I' a good listener." After a while everyone got up to leave. As we were going out the door Yvonne slipped me a crumpled up little slip of paper. I put it in my pocket and walked to my car, where I looked at it. Just some numbers, her cell number? I reached into my car and grabbed one of my business cards from the side pocket in the door, walked over to her car which she was just starting up, and handed her my card through the window without comment, then I drove home.

At home I was bored and having not been laid for nearly a year, a bit horny. I fired up the computer and surfed for something to look at while wanking. As I surfed for some photos or videos I happened across a website that offered pornographic stories submitted by users. There were many categories, and the one that caught my eye was near the bottom of the list, "written by a woman". As I perused the stories written by a woman I opened and started reading a few. Some were obviously not actually written by a woman, even though they claimed to be so. Then I saw one written by "Yvonne". Thinking about my tennis friend, I opened it and started reading. Then I found that there were several more stories by this same author. Over the next few days I read them all. They certainly couldn't have been written by the Yvonne I met at the tennis courts. Yvonne the amateur porn writer refers to herself as a slut, whore and worse. In her stories she is gang-banged, raped, fucked up the ass, abused, debased and tortured. The Yvonne I know is a soccer mom, middle class wife and mother, educated and intelligent. I've never even heard her utter a curse word.

Linda used to "talk dirty to me" sometimes when we were making love. Actually, we'd talk dirty to each other, but I never called her a bad name. Our talk was about making love in public, or being spied upon while we made love, making love in the same room where other couples were doing the same, and that kind of stuff. Pretty tame compared to Yvonne the porn writer. Nearer

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