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My true love
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My true love I'd been to London playing tourist and met a lovely little old lady on a bus who kindly advised be on good eateries in London. When I told her I might just go check one out right then because I had early theater tickets she asked to join me. A delightful friendship began. Before the meal was over I heard the name Jonathan at least twice, her beloved grandson, was a light in her lonely widow's life. We corresponded the old fashioned way with letters on pretty stationary a few times a year until my November visits when we'd meet up for a meal and some sights. My sweet Rose became frail and I began to call her as she was not always able to leave her apartment and was even lonelier. On one occasion the phone was answered by Jonathan the dutiful and loving grandson. He was so thrilled to meet the American lady who delighted 'my girl' as he called his Gran. The chat was brief and he promised to call me if things looked dire. Four months later I hopped a plane in response to his call and arrived too late to say goodbye to sweet Rose. He sent me directions to the cemetery and I met the 50 - 60 mourners there. Jonathan was a hunk who marched straight up to me and said my name as he pulled me into a strong embrace. I'm sorry I sobbed feeling like I was overreacting not even being related. he smiled and kissed my gloved hand, I was pretty snotty afterall, and made me promise to come to the house after the service. Taxis were shared to Rose's home in the suburbs, a narrow 2 story flat. I heard someone say 'coats upstairs' so I gathered a few from other guests and followed Jonathan up the narrow staircase. He humorously flopped on top of his armload on the bed the rolled to his back. I tossed my armload next to his and sat in a chair removinb my coat. Can I change my shoes I asked. he rolled to his belly and said, only if they are sexier than those awful boots. It was snowy and cold, I protested unzipping them. He watched then lithely slid off the bed to offer...let me, he took my black pump gently gripped my stocking sheathed ankle and slipped it on and repeated with my other shoe but this time smiling and running his hands over my calves. I knew you had great legs under all this woolly gear. You did? I smiled back enjoying the massage. Mmmhmm he said moving his hands to my knees now and down again. I lay back in the chair. That feels nice I said relaxing my legs. I like a man at my feet...I teased. Yes? he gently pushed his thumbs between my legs and I took a deep breath as I let him separate them. Oh my god stockings not tights he gasped and laid his head on my knees as his fingertips touched the bare skin of my upper thighs. Lift your head, I told him and raised my skirt up so he could see. he glanced at the door and smiled lifting one knee up and sliding his hands to my hips and ass. he pressed his face to my panties inhaling and kissing me. Are we doing this really? he whispered. I'm not doing a thing I said giggling a bit. my panties were down and both knees as far apart as I could manage in the chair. Oh my god, he gasped I love a woman with hair, he pulled my hips to him to the edge of the chair and licked and sucked like a starving man. I grabbed his curly hair in my hands pushing his face into me. Later, after everyone left, we fucked like rabbits on Rose's creaking old bed with her blessing I know. Jonathan followed my hairy self back to the states 3 mos later and spent the next 7 years loving me like I've never been loved before. |
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This is like a scene straight out of a romance novel (at least that's what I imagine, since, ahem, I've never actually read one), except this is even sexier because it actually occurred. I love the bit about the hair.
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One can be so lucky in life to find true happiness. It only comes in a milisecond and sounds like he was able to string quite a few together to give you this awsome memory. Kudos to you for helping him find happiness.
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Lucky girl
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