So, I got divorced over the holidays. Yep, wife #3, who has been a companion but not a wife since May 2018, who succumbed to Q-Anon conspiracy theories last year, and who would not attend marriage counseling, has finally been jettisoned, along with half my retirement savings and a limited amount of alimony, oh, and 50,000 shares in my startup just for grins. She likes a good deal more than anything. Anyway, I still wish her well. I suppose that indicates right there what a messed up individual I am.
Anyway, to the getting laid.
A few nights into life in my extremely modest apartment, I went online and started chatting with women.
On evening two, I met a very nice woman, and we hit it off. She was named after a kind of fruit, but this is Florida, and she shouldn't be held liable for her mom and dad's misdeeds at any rate, so fruit it is. We made a coffee date. First coffee date of the new dating cycle! I was excited to be starting off with a bang, but fully aware I would probably have to kiss some frogs before finding a princess.
She lives in rural Florida north of Tampa. There are no coffee shops in her vicinity, so we met at a Dunkin' Donuts, I kid you not. Her little town must be the most non-hipster place in the universe. Regardless, we had a very nice (and way too sweet) coffee together where we hit it off more. I learned more of her back story. She's a nurse and a widow. Her husband was gravely ill for years and must have recently passed away. I didn't ask how recently. She asked me whether I would like a tour of the environs. I said yes.
I drove her around in my Prius Prime and she navigated. I saw more churches, convents, and monasteries than God. Mostly Catholic, but many protestant as well. The territory reminded me of Central California, but with churches and without the mountains. About halfway through, I really wanted to put my hand on her thigh, so I asked her whether I could put my hand on her thigh, and she said yes. That thigh proceeded to get a thorough kneading due to my nervous energy, which she didn't seem to mind. She started kneading my thigh in return.
Upon returning to the Dunkin' Donuts, it was obvious that neither one of us wanted the date to end. She asked me whether I wanted to see her house, and I said yes. So we drove to her house.
We got to her house, where I met her two little yappy dogs. They instantly stopped yapping and fell in love with me, because I am indisputably the big dog. We sat at her dining table and talked and talked into the evening. It was as if neither of us had a real conversation for years. One bedroom was filled with the medical equipment her late husband had needed.
Everything was clicking. I was thinking, should I just kiss her? It seemed stupid to ask her. But I asked her anyway, because we'd just met, I am huge and therefore can be scary, and I'd like to think something is changing between men and women, even in my generation, where there's no such thing as too much communication or consent.
She said yes, and we started kissing deeply and wetly. I grabbed her up from her chair and stood her in front of me. She is about 5'1", so she was a little bit taller than me sitting down. As we continued to kiss, I stroked her body.
Matters quickly escalated to my hand down her pants, stroking her clit. She was sopping wet. I like all shapes of women, and Ms. Fruit is extremely shapely, with enormous tits (I think she said K) and an ass to match. Soon she started orgasming, and her knees buckled. I held her up and against me as I continued to kiss her and finger her to more orgasms.
We came up for air and it was getting dark. Her husband had been too sick for a few years to do anything but get a blowjob from her about once a month. She hadn't had sex in a long time, so it was quickly agreed we would go to her bed. I made arrangements to spend the night just in case, and so it quickly turned into spending the night.
We got her all unwrapped on her bed. It shouldn't have been a surprise that Ms. Fruit tasted like fruit, mangoes perhaps. I snacked on her cute, extremely wet, extremely little pussy for, it turned out to be, an hour. She orgasmed often. She seemed to have no limit where she got overstimulated. She just kept taking it, and we were both in heaven. Putting a finger into her to tickle her g spot, my index finger was snug in her pussy. I have a fairly large index finger, but nowhere near the thickness of my penis. I began to worry whether I would be able to get into her. She'd had three sons, but all by cesarean.
I needed to get really, really, really hard. Not a problem, since she gives incredible blowjobs. We were in no hurry. We were at it all night, talking and making love. Eventually, with the help of some lube, I was able to open up and get into her tiny pussy. Luckily, she is very limber. With her feet over her head, I was able to plunge directly down into her with all my weight and squish! Once I got past her first three inches, I just had to remember not to come back out too far.
She loved the process and orgasmed often, yet was very circumspect about it during. It was hard for me to tell, but she clued me in afterwards. She had been very quiet during foreplay, too, but many women are. She said her husbands never wanted her to make noise. She pointed out her orgasms to me. She discreetly cried out "huh!" more and more emphatically as she came. I thought it was very cute, once I realized what it was. In contrast, when I finally came in her, I let out this huge roar that probably woke half her neighborhood.
We talked for a long time, until it was dawn. She had to go to work, and I needed to get back to Sarasota to go to work at noon, so we parted ways with serious plans to see each other more.