My Late Wife Ch. 04

As you may know from prior chapters I was married to beautiful, sexy, and nearly perfect woman, Lynn, for nearly 15 years before she was killed in an automobile accident. I was devastated but with the help of repeated visits to a psychologist, Amy Bishop, over the next year I was able to fully recover; except that there was of course no way to recover the wonderful and fulfilling sex life Lynn and I enjoyed. We had a creative and varied sex life, but it was always a fully monogamous one. We may have jointly fantasized about a variety of racier sexual activities involving other people (threesomes and more numerous group sexual activities; watching each other having sex with others; trading partners; semi-public sex before others; and a host of other socially inappropriate activities, much of which were suggested by our ample appetite for porn) but they were just that, fantasies. I didn't cheat on Lynn and she didn't cheat on me.

Or so I thought.

About a year after Lynn's death I received a visitation from a ghost, spirit or some such creature that verified herself to be my late wife. She said she had returned to encourage me to resume the lustful sex life I had enjoyed with her before her death. She even gave me a list of women she had known before her death who she assured me would be happy to have sex with me, but she explained that because of her status as deceased she could visit me but not have sex with me.

I thought the idea absurd and was a little worried about my sanity, but I tried it and soon found myself with relationships with three attractive women best characterized as 'friends with benefits.' I was getting laid regularly.

However the last of those women, Karen O'Conner, wife of the Deacon of our church, not only fucked me regularly but told me a story of having had lesbian sex with Lynn before she died. I wasn't sure I believed her but the next time Lynn's spirit appeared I asked her and she confirmed Karen's story, telling me in explicit detail how they had gotten together in the Deacon's office on numerous occasions for their illicit sex; a location where as it happened I had also been recently having some great sex with Karen. Apparently Karen liked to use her husband's office for illicit sex.

My wife had been unfaithful. She had confirmed it in detail as we sat naked watching each other masturbate (a customary feature of her visits). I thought I should have been outraged, but to my shock I found her lewd confession and description of the details to be unbelievably erotic, bringing me to an almost hands free climax of gigantic proportions matching her simultaneous climax after which she faded into the air and was gone, as always occurred with her visits.

For the next few days I struggled with conflicting emotions. My wife had cheated and I should have been furious. But I wasn't. I found it incredibly erotic. I had even told Lynn I would have liked to watch her and Karen having sex. What kind of sick person did that make me? It was all very troubling.

Eventually I decided to go back to Amy Bishop to seek her guidance on the problem. There was a problem with that strategy in that I didn't feel I could share with Amy any of the information I had received from my late wife's spirit. I had always figured that if I told anyone, even Amy, about Lynn's visits I would be locked up as insane; or at least put on a treatment of strong drugs that would ruin my otherwise pleasant life.

I had not seen Amy for several months but I had no trouble getting in to see her. She answered her office phone herself and told me she was shutting down her therapy practice but she would be happy to see me. Amy told me I was one of her favorite ex-patients. I dropped by her office at 3:00 o'clock the next afternoon. She had no receptionist and the receiving office and her interview room were full of stacks of papers, files, and boxes of records bound to her replacement for ongoing patients or to storage for others. Rather than sit opposite each other across her desk, which was covered by partially filled boxes, we sat at opposing ends of the long couch in her office.

I had never given it much thought but it occurred to me as I sat down at the end of the couch that Amy was an attractive woman. She was about the same age as me and more or less the same height as my late wife with perhaps a bit more weight. Normally she dressed in business clothes appropriate to her role as a psychologist which did little to disclose her figure. Her clothing today was much less formal--basically a T-shirt and a loosely fitting knee length skirt and flip flops; much like the outfits my late wife sometimes materialized in (other than her alternative appearance style of full nudity). The overall effect of her clothing was to disclose a very attractive figure; long legs, nicely rounded hips, a waist narrow enough to accentuate her hips, and an ample bust that, unlike my late wife's spirit, was obviously supported by a bra. I did notice that there was a hint of an attractive bounce to her breasts as she moved about.

"You are looking casual today," I said as soon as we sat down.

"No reason to dress up when all I am doing is packing up the office and closing down the practice."

"No I suppose not," I said. "It's a nice look for you."

She smiled and said thank you in response.

I was nervous about discussing my late wife's infidelity so I wasn't in a hurry to jump into my problem. "What is causing you to close your practice down?" I asked.

She smiled and shook her head followed by pushing a lock of her long hair out of her face. "What I tell most people is that I am quitting because Chrissy Richardson has offered me a better job. Chrissy is willing to pay me a lot more than I am making here; she gestured at the piles of boxes stacked around the remnants of her office. I will be her new head of Human Resources for all of her companies."

"I see," slightly disappointed that her brief explanation was going to deny me any further excuse for delaying discussion of my problem.

"And," she added. "Just between you and me I had become tired of my counseling practice. After a while dealing with other peoples' problems becomes almost depressing, especially with people who are often simply feeling sorry for themselves and regularly fail to take your advice."

"Oh. I hope I wasn't in the class of people who you perceived to be feeling unnecessarily sorry for themselves or ignoring your advice."

"Oh no. You've been one of my star patients. I knew your late wife well before her death from our book club and thought she was a great person, friendly, smart, beautiful, kind... she chuckled and then added, "and tolerant of other peoples' needs. You..."

"You left out sexy," I interrupted.

"Oh we all noticed that too. Lynn was very sexy. She must have been a tremendous loss to you and yet you have recovered very well."

Still trying to stall, I asked, "I've heard that you frequently advised your depressed patients to get laid, but you never advised me to do that. Why not?"

"Tom, you are a very handsome man more than capable of getting laid without my encouragement." She chuckled. "Maybe I feared I would be jealous."

"Oh. That's a surprise."

She shrugged her shoulders, not responding to my reaction. "So Tom, what do you need to talk to me about?"

I waited through a long silence and then said, "I have recently learned that my late wife may have been unfaithful."

She responded with a long silence of her own, a finger resting on her lip. Then in classic counselor mode she responded with a question of her own, "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I have learned she had a lesbian affair with Karen O'Conner."

"The Deacon's wife?"

"Yes."

"Not surprising actually. Karen was very uptight about reading racy books in our book club, but I never believed her. My senses told me she was a very sexual person, much like your late wife."

"Your senses are right. Karen told me about her affair with Lynn while she and I were having sex in her husband's office."

Amy chuckled. "I was right. I didn't need to tell you to get laid."

"No you didn't. There are two other women you know that I have been having sex with recently. I am feeling very recovered. A lack of a sex life is not the reason I came to see you."

"Good on you Tom. But if that is not the problem, why are you here to see me?"

"It's about Lynn's infidelity and my reaction to it."

Like any good emotional counselor she asked, "Oh, and how do you feel about that?"

"Well first let me tell you what Karen O'Conner told me and then we should talk about whether I should believe it."

"Okay."

I proceeded to repeat the story I had learned from Karen and from Lynn's spirit about how Lynn had discovered Karen having sex with our club's golf pro and how that encounter had gone on to begin a lesbian relationship between the two women. I shared most of the details about Karen's big breasts and nipples and Karen and Lynn sucking on each other's nipples and progressing from there to an afternoon of lustful lesbian sex in the Deacon's office. I included graphic detail I had learned from both Karen and Lynn without mentioning Lynn as a source. I could feel myself getting aroused as I went through the lewd tale.

Amy had kicked off her flip flops moved herself around so she was facing me and leaning against the arm of the couch with her knees to one side bent and her legs tucked beneath her. She seemed to have carelessly let her skirt slide well up her thighs. Nothing indecent mind you, but a lot more skin than I had ever seen the normally very professional Amy show. I decided she had great legs.

When I finished she stared at me thinking about what I had said. "What happened to the golf pro?" she asked. Not exactly the question I was expecting.

"As soon as he and Karen had both climaxed he quickly left saying he had a commitment to teach a golf lesson. That was when Karen and Lynn moved to Lynn's car."

"Oh. Not surprised. He was a randy bastard."

"Did you know him?" I asked.

"I had patients who knew him. They confirmed Karen's description of him as having a big cock but a habit of disappearing as soon as he finished cumming whether his partner had or not." I was a bit surprised by Amy's language. My relationship with her in the past had been very professional with her choice of language matching the nature of the relationship. Now I was seeing another side of Amy I had not seen before. I liked it.

"So Tom," she continued. "All this information came from Karen? When was that?

"She told me about her affair with Lynn when I was having sex with her. It was a few weeks ago." I had deliberately left out the part about Lynn's spirit having provided me with the graphic details of her relationship with Karen and confirming Karen's version of the facts. That still seemed more than a bit crazy to me.

"Hmm. Well this all sounds like Karen. I told you she seemed very horny to me." As she spoke Amy twisted around so she was still leaning against the couch arm but her bare knees were now pulled tight together and pressed against her chest. I could see the full back side of her thighs and something that looked like a bit of her panties. I was becoming more aroused. Yes this was a version of Amy I hadn't seen before and I was enjoying it.

"So tell me Tom. How do you feel about this?" It was the classic psychologist's question.

"Don't worry," I said. "I've been having too much fun fucking Karen to do something bad to her for having an affair with my wife and I can't get furious with my wife and yell and scream at her or hit her because... well she's dead."

"Hmm. That may all be true, but it's not what I asked you. When you first heard the story, how did you feel?" Like any good shrink she wanted to probe at my emotions rather than my actions.

"Well I was busy fucking Karen at the time so my emotions were pretty much being driven by what I was doing."

"Okay, I understand that, but what about afterwards when you no longer had your dick in Karen? Any man would be distracted when he is simultaneously getting laid by the Deacon's wife and learning about his late wife's adultery."

I thought for a moment. How was I going to answer this question without disclosing my late wife's spiritual visits and our mutual masturbation. "Later?" I asked. "I'm still thinking about it, but when I think about the sexual details I learned I don't get mad. I get very aroused and wish I had been there to see them having sex."

"Like you are now?"

I looked down at my lap and saw that my erect prick was making a big lump in my slacks; a big lump I was letting one hand rest on.

"Oh. Yes. Like I am now. But does that make me a sick person. What's the word for that? A cuckhold?"

She shook her head. "Oh that's nonsense that the porn producers make up. Lots of men find the idea of watching their wife or lover have sex with another person to be arousing and enjoyable. Lots of women do also. Our society has made such a bunch of nonsense about sex that many couples are afraid to try something they would really enjoy just because it has a bad name. It's just like a lot of other sexual activities that we treat as socially bad even though people who fantasize about them would enjoy them if they would just let themselves do it."

"Oh okay. That makes me feel a lot better." I felt like I had accomplished my purpose in visiting my counselor. I was satisfied that my erotic reaction to my late wife's description of her sex with the Deacon's wife was not particularly abnormal; just something most people didn't disclose in polite society. I could live with that.

But my conversation with Amy had raised a new question, or better stated, perhaps curiosity. Just what kind of person was Amy Bishop and by that I meant what kind of sexual person. Her sudden shift to graphic and explicit language concerning sexual issues intrigued and aroused me. I decided this was not the time to stop the conversation. But how to move the conversation from my sexuality to Amy's? I sat thinking quietly for a moment of two before I finally spoke up.

"So are you telling me that it's normal for all people to have sexually deviant thoughts: I have them; you have them; the clerk at the grocery store... I paused and chuckled continuing, "or even the Deacon's wife?"

Amy laughed. "Yes even the Deacon's wife, but you would know better than I about how twisted she is."

"Oh she doesn't seem very twisted to me. She just enjoys a good solid fucking by someone with a good sized cock and all the foreplay that might go with that."

"But she is married to the Deacon isn't she?" Amy asked.

"That's true, but apparently he doesn't, as she puts it, meet her needs. Besides she is a great fuck so what is the Deacon's problem anyhow. Why wouldn't he meet her needs?"

You'll never know unless he opens to you. For all you know his needs may include hearing in exquisite detail about his wife's sex with other people. Maybe he won't fuck her unless she first tells him about someone else she has fucked. That's the thing about people's sexual preferences. We rarely know what they are unless they open up to us and most people won't do that." She was staring at the lump in my slacks now and rubbing her thighs together. Her dress had slid further downward so it was mostly piled in her lap.

"But they tell their psychologist don't they?"

"Some do and some don't. Some people lie a lot because they can't bring themselves to admit their deepest desires and socially obscene thoughts even to someone who is trying to help them deal with their troubles."

"Was that what you found frustrating about your job?" I asked. She was still staring intermittently at the tent in my trousers formed by my growing cock.

"Oh no. Well it was of course frustrating when they lied or I later found out that they had lied, but that was just part of the job. All jobs have their problems. As I said earlier I found myself spending too much time dealing with people who really had no good reason to be on this couch other than feeling sorry for themselves, sometimes combined with boredom. They didn't need counseling. They just needed to get laid by their spouse or an illicit lover. Nothing like a sneaky, secret, affair to combat boredom." She paused and then smiled continuing, "But what was interesting to me was when a patient really opened up about their secret sexual desires or activities: wanting to fuck the neighbor's husband; masturbating in the washroom at work or in the car in the grocery store parking lot; lusting after a neighbor of the same sex; wishing their spouse or lover would try anal sex; even something as mundane as what form of porn they enjoyed. And trust me," she added, "Everyone enjoys porn but few are willing to admit it. When people opened up about such things; that was when my job became interesting." She moved her knees from side to side as she described peoples secret perversions rubbing her thighs against her breasts.

"So does that make you a voyeur?" I asked.

Amy laughed. "Oh I suppose so. But we all have a bit of the voyeur in us. Some of us just repress it farther than others."

"And is there something you would like to see right now; something sexual?" I asked. I was overtly stroking my now fully erect cock through my slacks.

"Oh you are a dirty boy, Tom Brandes. Lynn told me that you had a wonderfully dirty mind and I was always a little disappointed that I didn't learn more about it during our sessions." She threw one leg up on the back of the couch and let the other leg drop to the floor exposing her panties. The cloth had a damp stain where it covered her sex. "Yes," she continued. "I would like to see what is causing that large lump hidden beneath your slacks."

"Okay, I can accommodate that," I responded as I released my belt and the fastener and zipper in my trousers. I pushed the trousers and my undergarment down off my hips letting my rampant cock escape. It was sticking straight out. "Does that satisfy your curiosity," I asked as I sat slowly stroking it.

"Oh no. Not completely," Amy replied. "It's a beautiful cock but that simply adds to things I would like to know... and experience." She was using her hands to slowly rub her pussy as she stared at my cock. She had pulled her panties aside so I was watching her stroke her naked sex.

I said nothing in response. I simply sat watching her masturbate as I slowly did the same thing.

"You really are a nasty man Tom. You come into my office to tell me your problems and then you pull that big cock out. Are you showing off Tom? It really is a beautiful cock."

"Is that a complaint or a compliment," I asked.

She smiled in response.

"Does this make me an exhibitionist?" I asked as I sat stroking my fully erect cock. "I think we already established I was a voyeur because I wished I had been able to watch my late wife fucking Karen O'Conner."

"Watching another person masturbate while you do the same is a bit of both isn't it?" Amy responded. "A most delicious bit of voyeurism and exhibitionism combined."

"Yes it is," I agreed. "Lynn and I used to do it regularly. But we were usually completely naked." As I spoke I pushed my slacks and under garment down over my feet and pulled the polo shirt I was wearing over my head, letting everything fall to the ground and leaving me naked.

"Oh yum. More exhibitionism," she said.

"And you? Are you an exhibitionist also? I asked.

She smiled. "I can be."

As I sat watching her in silence she shimmied out of her skirt and panties, leaving her naked from the waist down. I've always thought there is something deliciously decadent about a woman who is naked from the waist down. I stared in appreciation as I continued to stroke my cock. She slowly released the buttons on her blouse, removing it so the only garment she was wearing was her bra. Her pussy was gleaming. "Is this better?" she asked.

"It's a start."

"Oh Tom you are so nasty. I suppose the next thing you will want is to fuck me."

"The thought has crossed my mind. But I'm in no rush. For now I would love to sit here jacking off while I watch you masturbate and we talk dirty. It would be better though if you took that bra off."

"Oh. Some men are so hard to please," she said as released her bra and tossed it to the side. It landed in a half full box of patient files. "Don't let me forget that or Dr. Moinahan is going to get a surprise when he opens the files on the patients I am transferring to him," she giggled.

"You have beautiful tits," I said. They really were beautiful tits, I thought. Not as big as Karen O'Conners but still, full and showing her lust with swollen nipples and areola. I guess some men would call those puffies.

"Thank you," she said as she held her boobs out towards me. "They aren't as big as Karen O'Conners but most men like them."

I wondered how Amy knew about Karen O'Conner 's boobs, but I held my tongue a I sat slowly stroking my cock and occasionally smearing a bit of precum about for lube.

"So Tom," she said. "Tell me about this interest you have in talking dirty. A lot of people consider that a perversion too."

I shrugged my shoulders. "It seems a very helpful psychologist told me earlier today not to worry about my perversions."

"Very good advice. I just wanted to hear more. Do you tell dirty stories?"

"Lynn and I used to. We used to sit masturbating, just like this, and tell each other dirty stories until we came or wound up fucking or doing some obscene oral thing."

"Oh. Did you two think oral sex was obscene?" She was sliding a finger in and out of her cunt now. My cock was telling me that is where it wanted to be, right where those fingers were.

"Well, my mother told me it was obscene. I think Lynn's mother told her that also. But we ignored them."

Amy chuckled. "That probably means your mothers were fans of oral sex."

"Let's not go there," I said. "I don't want to hear that my mother was a cock sucker."

She smiled. "That's very wise. Sex is so much better if you think you are doing something your mother wouldn't approve of. Something obscene. But for most people knowing about their parents' sex lives creeps them out... unless of course they were a part of their parents' sex lives."

"Do you mean incest?"

"It happens more than people want to admit."

"I suppose so," I agreed; and then changing the subject I said, "Where would we be without Baptist ministers?" I was using one hand to fondle my balls now.

"Babtist ministers?" she asked. "Were you seduced by one?"

"No. I just meant that they preach such a puritan reality. I just can't understand what reality they think the world has."

"Oh some of them are just as nasty as anyone else. I know because they were my patients. They did the most awful things and then had to tell me about them because they felt guilty."

"Amy. Has it occurred to you that telling you about their sexual sins was a critical part of how they got sexual satisfaction from their actions?"

"Yes and sometimes I got off on it also. Not in my office like this of course but after I went home I would replay my audio tape of what they confessed to me while I masturbated."

"I always imagined that our family preacher was like that."

"Really. What did you imagine he did?

"Do you really want to hear? You'll think me a pervert."

"I was a good friend of your wife Tom. I already know you are a pervert. She told me lots about the nasty things you and she used to do."

"Okay. This is an erotic fantasy I used to tell myself while I would masturbate the summer before I went off to college. None of it really happened, but it was real enough to me when I was I was jacking off.

When I turned 18h my mother started asking me to drive her places so she could coach me on driving safely and not getting any more tickets. One afternoon I drove her over to the parsonage behind the church. She took a box of things into the preacher's home while I waited in the car. When she returned I noticed that her hair was a bit mussed. I didn't think much of it but it was strange because my mother was usually quite careful about maintaining a neat appearance. As I drove away she was putting fresh lipstick on.

A couple of days later she asked me to drive her over there again. This time she was gone quite a while, at least half an hour. I got curious so I got out of the car and snuck around to the side of the parsonage where I could look in the window. I was shocked when I saw my mother leaning over the preacher's desk with her dress pulled up around her waist and the preacher standing behind her naked from the waist down, his black slacks in a pool around his feet. He was fucking her furiously and she was groaning and crying out. It only took them a moment or two to finish and hurried back to the car. When Mom returned she looked very pleased but a bit mussed up again.

The next week, instead of waiting in the car I snuck around to the side of the parsonage as soon as Mom went in the door. I saw her walk into the preachers office and watched as they engaged in a long lustful kiss. She didn't stick with the kiss too long before she dropped to her knees and extracted the preacher's cock from his pants. I watched as she gave him a thorough blow job. He had this long thin cock that stuck straight out from his groin and she seemed to be having a great time stroking him, sucking on his balls and sucking his cock so far into her mouth that her nose was in his pubic hair. I had seen enough porn to realize that my mother was deep throating the preacher.

She didn't finish him. When she pulled back she looked up at him as she stroked his cock and said, "I want you to fuck me now. Can you do that Rev?" He lifted her to her feet and helped her out of her dress and did the same for himself so they were both standing naked in his office. Mom sat down on the edge of his desk and the preacher stepped in between her legs. I couldn't see all the details but it wasn't long until I could see Mom lying on her back on the desk with her hands pulling her legs back and apart while the preacher fucked her aggressively. As before I could hear my mother's satisfaction with the pounding the preacher was giving her, "Oh fuck Rev that's good. So fucking good. Pound my cunt you horny bastard. Just pound it. It feels so fucking good. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I know I'm a slut but this feels so fucking good." She went on like that for several minutes.

I quickly got incredibly horny and I pulled my cock out and begin to jack off. It was so nasty and so erotic; watching our preacher fucking my mother and listening to her obscene vocal enjoyment. After a few minutes she came with a loud cry and I did the same thing spraying my cum all over the side of parsonage. Shortly after that he pulled the preacher pulled his still hard cock out and sprayed his cum across my mother's big soft tits. I was stuffing my cock back in my pants as I watched her rub his cum across her chest. Then she said she had to go and I ran for the car.

When she got back to the car she looked even more disheveled than she had the other times. I could tell she hadn't taken time to put her bra back on and before I ran off from the window where I had been spying I saw the preacher tuck her panties in his desk drawer. I sat turned sideways away from her as I drove home so she couldn't see the big erection I had. She wasn't paying attention to me; just staring out the window and looking very content and frankly, well fucked.

"Oh my that is a dirty story Tom," Amy said. "And is any of it true?"

"Not a word, except that I did masturbate to it nearly every night that summer as I played various versions of it around in my head."

"Tom you are just as nasty as your late wife told me you would be. Delicious."

"And did you enjoy that story Amy?" I asked.

She pulled a gleaming finger out of her cunt. She had been slowly finger fucking herself while I told the story. Her silence continued while she put the finger up to her mouth and sucked on it. When she finally spoke she said, "Fuck yes. I loved it."

"Amy, you are so nasty," I said.

"I know Tom. Just like you." This was a whole new Amy, I thought. So different from the careful, professional Amy I had known as my therapist. I liked the change.

We sat contentedly watching each other masturbate until Amy spoke up, "Right now Tom what I would really like to do is fuck with you. Right now I feel a real need to suck my late friend Lynn's husband's cock, have him eat my pussy and then fuck him for as much of the afternoon as we can hold out for." She raised one hand and used her forefinger, curling and uncurling, to invite me.

"Good, I replied as I rose from the couch and walked the few steps to where I stood directly in front of Amy. My erect cock which had been bobbing obscenely as I walked the few steps to the end of the couch was now pointed directly at Amy's face. She had rotated around on the couch so she was sitting, legs spread and facing me.

"Is this what my horny counselor wants?" I asked.

"Oh yes," she said as she reached out and rubbed the head across her cheeks leaving a streak of pre-cum behind. "This is a delicious looking cock." She began stroking my cock and fondling my balls. She rubbed her hand over the tip of my cock which was leaking a copious stream of pre-cum and begin using that as a lube for her stroking but she quickly moved on to supplement the lube by licking my shaft slowly from the base to the top and then around the head and then back down the shaft again. Satisfied she had lubed my shaft up enough she pulled just the head into her warm wet mouth where she swirled her tongue about it while using both hands to stroke my shaft with a corkscrew motion. I put my hands on her head and began pulling her back and forth so my cock was going deeper into her mouth; essentially fucking her face, something my late wife used to love.

Then Amy surprised me by tilting her head to just the right angle and taking my cock down her throat, holding it there until she needed to breath and sucking hard as she pulled back. After about three rounds of her deep throating, I could feel an orgasm coming. "Amy I'm going to cum," I said. She mumbled something in response that sounded like, "Good" and sucked me further down her throat. I lost all control and pumped stream after stream of cum down her throat and then fell to my side sitting next to her on the couch. "Fuck that was great," I said.

"Now it's your turn," she responded, swinging herself around so she was lying on the couch with one leg on the back of the couch and the other foot on the floor, her gleaming pussy almost pressing against my leg. "Do me like you used to do Lynn."

I twisted myself around so I could lay forward my belly pressed against her pussy and my face on one and then the other of her delicious tits allowing me to suckle her swollen nipples them while I used my hands to fondle her breasts. I could feel my cock recovering almost immediately. Her response was to quietly whimper as I suckled and the cry a bit louder when I used my teeth to lightly nibble on her nipples.

It wasn't long before she began to push my face down towards her midsection. Taking the hint I planted my face right in front of her naked sex and began to lick her with long firm strokes running the full length of her pussy. At the same time I slid two fingers into her wide open cunt. She was warm and very wet inside. I began by probing about to find sensitive spots that would cause her to chirp when I touched them. She had large pussy lips and I suckled on each of them as I had her nipples.

"My clit Tom. My clit," she groaned.

"Always one to follow a woman's instructions I began to lick and nibble on her clit, softly at first and then more firmly as she bucked her hips and cried out for more. I was using two fingers to press firmly on her G-spot. That brought her quickly to a noisy climax and came in waves throughout her body as she held my head in place on her clit. I kept it up until she pushed me away and then I sat up looking at the ravaged woman before me, her hair strewn wildly about, her make-up smeared and tears running from her eyes. As she began to get her breath back she said, "Fuck you're better at that than Lynn was."

Her comment blew right by me as my mind focused on wanting to fuck her. Without waiting I repositioned myself and began to force my now recovered cock into her. She was tight from her just completed climax but I could feel her pushing back. She wanted it; wanted it badly.

"Oh yes Tom. That's it. Slowly now slowly until you are all the way in." A pause; and then, "Oh god yes. That feels so good Tom. You fill me up so perfectly, just like Lynn said you would." I started to move and she said, "No just hold it like you are. This feels so delicious. Let's just be this way for a while. Can you do that?"

"Yes." We rolled to the side so I wasn't supporting my upper body with my hands or crushing her chest. Now we were lying face to face, my cock fully imbedded in her warm wet cunt, my chest just touching her breasts; just the nipples, not crushing her; with our faces achingly close. We lay that way necking like teenagers for who knows how long and then we began to talk; truly the first conversation I've ever had with a woman while fucking with her. I didn't get soft but it had been long enough since my earlier climax that I felt no urgent need to drive myself or her to completion.

"How do you know so much about the way I used to make love with my late wife?" I asked.

"Oh that was the book club. I suppose Lynn never told you about that."

"She said it was a bit boring and that Karen O'Conner would never let the group read any racy books."

"Oh that's true. Karen was so stiff and starchy around the full book club group, but I'm talking about the 'after-hours book club.' There were five of us who would stay after each meeting to discuss a different book. Those books were much racier; erotica or just plain porn, if there is a difference between the two. Karen was happy to talk about those when only the after-hours group was around."

"Hmm," I said. "How did you get to Lynn's sex life?"

She laughed. "It seemed to naturally follow as we discussed the lurid and graphic sex in the books and consumed ample quantities of wine. The conversation routinely drifted into a discussion of the various members' sex lives; with their husbands or with others. They were really more interesting than the erotic fiction which can be distressingly unrealistic and lacking in any precept of the emotional impact of good sex." She was slowly rubbing her nipples against my chest now.

"I see. Who was in this after hours book club?"

Amy listed several names and I realized the list was a perfect match for the list of women my late wife's spirit had told me would be willing to sleep with me.

"And did you ladies go any further than discussing dirty books and each other's sex life?"

She chuckled, "Well sometimes if we had consumed enough wine and if the book was hot enough we watched either masturbate."

My dick flexed by itself at the image of Amy, my late wife, and the women named (three of whom I was occasionally having sex with) sitting in someone's living room getting themselves off.

"And did you go any further. Were you ladies fucking each other at your after-hours book club meetings?"

"Ah, well sometimes."

"My cock flexed again as an image flowed through my head of Amy and Lynn entwined in a scissors position rubbing their pussies against each other while Karen and another member played with Lynn and Amy's titties.

"Oh that feels good," she said. "Can we fuck now. I want you to fuck me now. Fuck me good and hard."

I started pumping my cock in and out of her but it wasn't what she wanted. "Tom fuck me from behind like you used to fuck your wife. She told us that you were so good at that." Amy pulled off me and dropped to the floor pushing piles of files and papers to the side. Her ass was in the air and her face on the floor. "Come on Tom. Fuck me like you did Lynn. Talk dirty. Call me a slut and any other thing you can think of and slap my ass like you did Lynn. It used to be so dirty when she would tell us how you fucked her while we sat there masturbating."

My mother always taught me to do what a lady asks, although I wasn't sure how lady like Amy was being now, but I said "Okay," and dropped to my knees behind her. Without waiting for another invitation I lined up my cock and, holding her hips with both hands I rammed my cock home as hard, fast, and deep as I could. She screamed in response but I didn't pause. I quickly established a hard, fast rhythm, driving my prick as deeply as possible on each thrust. Amy was pushing back with her hips on every thrust and giving a groan or a cry each time.

"Is this what you wanted you slut; to be fucked like I used to fuck Lynn?"

"Fuck yes." A cry when I hit bottom and a groan as I pulled back. "It's exactly what I wanted. It used to be so hot when she would tell all of us about how you fucked her and the filthy language you used."

I slapped her ass twice and continued to pound her with my cock. "You are such a cunt Amy. You really love being fucked like this." I slapped her hard on both cheeks of her firm round ass twice on each side. Our bodies were making a slapping noise as we came together on each stroke. "Did you think about doing this when I was telling you about my grief after Lynn died? Did you, you slut? Were you glad she was gone so you could fuck me after she told you and your book club not to?"

"No. No. Oh god no. Lynn was my friend, my lover. We were all lovers. It wasn't just masturbation. We were lovers; all of us. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Harder Tom harder. Fuck me harder."

"So you didn't think about fucking me before today?"

She didn't respond beyond crying and groaning. I could feel myself getting close so I made no effort to hold back, continuing to fuck her for all I was worth. A few strokes later I groaned as my cock erupted with what felt like the biggest ejaculation I had ever experienced. Amy came right with me with a loud scream and then a series of groans as the aftershocks of her climax rippled through her.

Finished we fell to the side, both gasping as my cock slowly slid out of her still lightly spasming cunt.

We lay in silence for a long period while we both thought about what had been confessed to and I thought about how similar fucking Amy in that fashion had been to some of the more extreme sex my late wife and I had enjoyed. She wasn't Lynn but,...

When she spoke she said, "Tom, can you ever forgive me?" She had tears running down her face.

My thinking was still a little fussy but I have since decided after a good deal of thought that my response got it right:

"Amy. I don't think there is anything to forgive. Lynn is gone and we all loved her and she loved us. Maybe we shouldn't have been sharing her as we all did, but I'm pretty sure she didn't object and I don't think any of members of the after-hours book club felt bad about it. Looking at it today, from where I am now: no I'm not upset about it. Lynn was a very sensual woman and she needed and enjoyed sex. I'm the first to say I didn't own her. Hell, I don't own anyone I make love with. I just consider myself blessed to have them share themselves with me when they do. With Lynn that was 15 years. Okay it wasn't exclusive but so what. My life with her was good, she didn't embarrass me with others and,"... I chuckled. "I've got to tell you Amy my late wife was a great fuck and I'm so proud to learn she felt the same of me."

"Amy was bawling now and fell into my arms. I held her and let her cry until her tears were running dry.

"Amy. This floor is getting cold. Let's put some clothes on and go to my place and have some wine and maybe a bit to eat. You can tell me more about Lynn and the after-hours book club.

Once at my house we drank wine, ate an omelet I fixed, and made love some more, in the shower, in my bed, even in the darkness of my back porch, and in my kitchen in the morning. Our lovemaking was less passionate than it had been in her office but it was still great sex. At some point in the evening or perhaps the morning (time blurs when you are having fun in bed or around the house) I asked her a question that I should have asked much earlier in the day.

"Amy. Are you married?"

A smile. "I tried that once and it didn't work out. He committed suicide. I was only twenty and it was painful. I decided I wasn't going to make that mistake again so at first I tried abstaining from sex. I realized after about a year that I'm a person who needs sex to be happy, much like your late wife. But to avoid the kind of relationship I had with my late husband I became a bit of a slut. I didn't want to be so emotionally dependent on any one person as I had been with him. I discovered I really liked having regular sex with a number of men and women. She laughed. I slept with every one of my graduate school professors, men and women. So, no Tom I am not married. If I had a husband he might get some idea that he owned my love life or I that I owned his love life. As you pointed out in my office a few hours ago that is not the case with any couple, whether they know it or not."

I returned her smiled and said, "Okay."

Epilogue

I never saw Lynn's spirit again and I've never told anyone about her visits. Some of the good things in life (like a secret lover) are best kept to yourself. However, I did marry Amy (it took a few years to convince her) and we live happily together in what most people would call an open relationship. We each have other lovers including, for each of us, all of the remaining members of the after-hours book club. We are thinking of inviting all of them over for an orgy sometime. We may or may not tell each other of our dalliances but when we do, it makes our sex really hot. The only rule is that we are discreet and do not embarrass each other (it is a small town we live in).