Helen is my lover.  The question that continues to puzzle me is: Are we in love,
or are we in love with lust?

We met at a neighbor's party on the Fourth of July, but another five months would
pass before we became extremely interested in each other.

How shall I describe Helen?  My first impression was of her long graceful legs
and marvelous ass barely hidden behind denim shorts.  I was moving across the
room to be closer to her when she turned to face me.  Well...deja vu!  There was
the face I had dreamed of since puberty.

Glasses that seemed to be slipping dangerously down her nose covered Helen's
exceedingly green eyes.  Oh, but it was a generous, perky nose. Her face was
surrounded by luxurious auburn hair.  This combination made for striking
features.  As I recall, she wore a Tee shirt that read "Hi Sailor!" across
abundant breasts.  Our eyes met, and I introduced myself and learned her name was
Helen, but I moved past her to the bar and lost the opportunity to engage her in
further conversation. Months later, I found Helen to be smooth and lustrous, both
in style and form. But on that July day nothing happened beyond that casual
introduction.

I was married to Maggie, whom I loved very much.  Several years ago there was an
accident, a terrible accident.  Now Maggie remains in a coma with little hope of
recovery. I managed to function, but the stress of Maggie's condition, job
pressures and medical bills combined to wear me down.  My poor performance at
work was the first signal.  I was in a funk of despondency and couldn't lift
myself out of it.  The household chores didn't get done.  Dishes piled up; beds
went unmade and unchanged.  Worst of all, I sat by Maggie's bed in the skilled
nursing home and stared off into space.  I had become useless to everyone.

It was Tess, my Mother-in Law, who pried my mind loose from its wretched, mired
state.  "I'd send you to the doctor if I thought it'd help," she said.  "But what
you really need right now is to get laid." I was jolted into reality.  "What did
you say?  I love Maggie, and she..."  "Oh shut up," Tess growled.  "I know what
I'm talking about. If I thought Maggie would be offended I'd never suggest it,
but it's exactly what she'd want for you."  Tess went on.  " Life goes on.  Find
someone.  Start a relationship.  Get on with your life."  With that said and
tears rolling down her face, Tess went home and left me alone to think about it.

CHAPTER 2.

It was a frigid, bleak, December day when Helen and I met the second time. We
were several minutes into a general conversation outside the local Harris Teeter,
our shopping carts were head to head.  I was pleased that Helen actually recalled
our meeting last July. Dark storm clouds were rolling in, and the turbulent winds
sweeping across the parking lot molded Helen's skirt to her body.  She might as
well have been nude from the waist down.  I felt my cock become rigid for the
first time since Maggie's accident.  I remembered what Tess had told me. I looked
at Helen and found her staring at the bulge in my pants.  Why I said it I'll
never know.  But I do things like this on occasion æ just on impulse.  "Well, I
guess you can tell that Bubba and I are glad to see you."  Helen snorted twice,
then burst out laughing.  I allowed a smug grin to cross my face.  Inside I had
begun to glow.  I was being reborn.  God, she was beautiful when she laughed. 
And what a laugh it was.  A genuine laugh, nothing held back.  (Later that night
Helen told me that was the first time she had really laughed in over a year.  Her
divorce had caught her by surprise and left her devastated.)  She smiled at me.
Her smile contained hidden promise and intrigue.  My cock was at full mast now. 
The blustering wind whipped my slacks around my legs making my hard-on very
conspicuous to onlookers.  Fortunately for me they were some distance away, too
busy fighting the wind themselves to notice my best friend Bubba's emergence. 
Helen, still smiling said, "Tell Bubba I'm glad to see him too."  She kissed me
on the lips and turned to go.  No! I thought, don't let her go!  I managed to
stammer out an invitation to dinner that night.  She declined, but was still
smiling, when she said, "I can't do dinner, but do come over to my place about
nine tonight.  Here's my address and phone number."  Numbly I accepted.  Bubba
erupted in my pants.

I managed to drive home without getting into an accident.  I recall black,
threatening clouds and the wind sharply buffeting the car, but my heart soared, I
was above it all.  And Helen was the wind beneath my wings.


CHAPTER 3.

I arrived home, took one look around and was amazed at the slovenly appearance of
each room I entered.  I began a non-stop cleanup campaign. Kitchen first. 
Strangely enough, the necessary cleaning tools were readily available.  (I had
not used them very often following Maggie's accident.)  The bedroom was torn
apart and clean linen and bedding replaced scuzzy sheets and a stained blanket. 
Good news! The vacuum still worked.  I used it until I thought the motor would
burn out.  I saved the bathroom for last.  As I finished cleaning it I realized
it was 8 PM.   I managed to shave without cutting my face up, showered and
dressed.  Giving a mental thanks to Tess for picking up my stuff at the cleaners
I stepped into a pair of dark blue corduroy slacks, pulled on a light yellow
sports shirt, grabbed my Marlboro Man jacket and headed for the door.  After one
step outside I returned somewhat chagrined that I had to add socks and loafers to
my attire. I was flying.   Fortunately, Helen lived nearby.  I walked, in a daze,
regaining consciousness in time to ring the bell to her apartment.

Helen greeted me at her door wearing a black negligee, with some sort of dark
green shimmer to it as she moved.  I liked it.  No, that's putting it mildly, I
would have liked it if she were bundled up in a Russian army overcoat.  I was
stunned by it!   Helen acted quickly to bring me out of my stupor.  She put her
arms around me saying: "How are my new good friends Jim and Bubba?" And she
kissed me. It was a long, sloppy kiss.  I was rusty and actually, so was Helen. 
But, hey!  Once you learn how to ride a bicycle . . ..

We were grinding against each other before that kiss ended and the next one
started. One with her tongue pushing slowly into my mouth.  Her breath tasted of
cinnamon.  There was a delightful fragrance emanating from her.  I never
remembered to ask what it was.  What a wuss!

I began to flick my tongue over and under hers.  We abandoned ourselves to the
kiss.  I moved my hands over her firm ass and clenched her cheeks with my fingers
as I crushed her pelvic area to my loins.  Our mouths never separated.  Saliva
began to build up.  I swallowed it, and powered by a desire I had never known
before, started moving my tongue at a frantic pace - in, out, over, and around. 
Helen matched me with her intensity.   I broke the kiss only to move to her neck,
which I started to suck and lick with the same energy I'd used with the kiss.

I had to touch her breasts; to suck her nipples; to lick her skin everywhere.  So
I did. Pinching a nipple between my thumb and forefinger with one hand, while
alternating between licking and biting the other nipple.  Although already rigid,
her nipples seemed to increase in size as I played on.  Helen began to moan, and
started licking my earlobe.  I shuddered in pleasure.

I looked down and noted Helen's free hand caressing herself between her legs. She
moved her lips back to my mouth and our tongues resumed wrestling.  We lost our
balance and fell, landing softly on a muslin colored couch.  Helen, her mouth
still locked to mine, groped for my hand and placed it at the junction between
her legs.  Her panties were so wet at first I thought she'd pissed in her pants.
(I really was rusty.)

Eventually, I left her mouth and breasts to concentrate on her sopping wet cunt. 
 Two of my fingers found their way inside her panties. She rotated her hips
against my fingers, indicating the place, pace and pressure she needed.   I
increased the tempo and she began to come. With the lower portion of her body
quivering uncontrollably, Helen came a second time.  Hell, maybe that was still
the first one, I was not keeping track, and I had too many other things going on.
 I withdrew my fingers and instantly Helen got quite vocal about what she wanted
me to do next.  She got what she wanted as I buried my face in the thick natural
auburn hair covering her cunt and tasted her juices for the first time.   Oh!
God!  The sweetness!

My tongue entered her cunt as far as it could.  (Just testing, someone once
called me a dipstick and I . . .well, you know.)

I started licking along the folds of her labia, alternating from one side to the
other, deliberately avoiding contact with her clit. Instead, I shifted position
slightly and began licking her asshole, which had a rather pleasant pungent
taste. (Another victory for mind over matter.) My tongue's contact caused her to
heave away from me as though she'd been shocked.  (Later I learned this was
indeed the case.) But, her ass returned to my tongue quickly enough.  When a
sufficient amount of saliva was deposited, I stiffened my tongue and penetrated
her asshole.

Why would I do this you ask?  For the same reason Hillary (Edmund, not Clinton)
climbed Everest, that's why - because it was there.  This produced a sharp gasp
from Helen.  Moments later, she started cuming again. "Nuhhhh!  Nuhhhh!" she
moaned softly as she began a convulsive wriggling, and my tongue was momentarily
trapped in her hole.  I panicked, and slapped her ass hard, causing her muscles
to relax momentarily and regained the use of my tongue.  My God, this woman was
hot. (Does this momentary reflection mean that my mind was not totally in the
gutter, but engrossed in philosophic trends of thought regarding . . ..)

Oh, shit! We were falling!

Closely entwined, we rolled slowly off the couch to the plush, dark green carpet
below. Bumpily-bump-bump!  That proved to me that there's a time to think and a
time to act.  I returned to the action.

After removing her panties, I slowly inserted the wet index finger of my left
hand up to the second knuckle in her ass without any difficulty. Two fingers on
my right hand returned to their earlier journey, sliding in and out of her cunt,
the entrance of which was now covered with a white foam.  (All this per the
instructions on page 17 of the sex manual I bought at a garage sale the previous
week.) Helen was moaning, "Give me your cock! Come on, fuck me!" I ignored her
plea, never feeling more powerful.  "Not yet," I growled, between licking and
sucking her hardened nipple.  Then I lowered my head to her frothy, succulent
cunt and sought out her clit. I lifted my head and gazed up at Helen as she lay
there on the carpet.  The richness and intensity of her once pale complexion was
now splotched with crimson blushes. This, coupled with her tousled, auburn hair
and lust filled, smoky green eyes was a stark contrast against the dark emerald
green carpet. (I reprimanded myself, at this point insisting that I get the hell
out of English 101, and back to the good parts. So I did.)

I returned to her blood engorged clit and lightly licked it.  Helen clenched the
carpet, grabbing a fistful in each hand as she cried out, "That's it baby!  Oh,
God! Do that . . .. Yeessss!  Oh, God!  Oooh, God! I had taken her clit between
my teeth and very gently nipped it with my teeth. The musky odor from Helen's
sopping wet cunt was overpowering.  I came up for air, then quickly lowered my
face back into the wet, ferruginous colored curls comprising the hairy bush
surrounding her wondrously sweet tasting cunt.  (Ferr . . . what?  Oh, go ahead
look it up.  There are reams of socially redeeming value in this section.)

Helen screamed out in pleasure at the moment of contact when I resumed nibbling
her clit.  Her entire pelvic area was rotating in a circular fashion.  "Oh, oh,
oh, God, oh, God, I'm gonna explode" Helen shrieked. I thrust my tongue deeper
inside her, and wedging a second finger into her widened asshole, and began
moving both in and out at rapid pace.  (I think I could have fisted her ass at
this point.)

Helen started thrusting her ass toward the ceiling. I nipped at her clit one more
time, and held on slowly increasing the pressure.  Helen screamed, "I'm cumming! 
Oh, God I'm cumming.  Ohhh, please stop!  I can't take anymore!"

She seemed serious about my stopping, so moments later I released her clit, gave
her ass one last frig and kissed her softly on the mouth. She tried to return the
kiss, but couldn't.  "I'm dead," she said.  "I can't believe how I feel.  I'm in
Heaven, Ohhhhh, I can't stop cumming!" I held her close, alternatingly kissing
her neck, her shoulder and then her breast. I kept my hand pressed firmly against
her wet mound, which was soaked with a combination of my saliva and Helen's
juices.  Helen shuddered when I licked her nipple, then gasped and said:  "My
God, we haven't fucked yet!"  I smiled and replied, "that's all right honey.  Me
and Bubba can wait awhile.  We have all night don't we?"  "We sure do," she
sighed.  That being the case, we both fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms.


CHAPTER 4.

I awoke at 12:15 am.  Bubba had been awakened moments earlier. INCOMING!

I was still groggy, but my reflexes were instantly alert.   Bubba was under
attack.  I looked down through half opened eyes and found Helen crouched under
the sheet, having placed herself between my legs, two hands holding Bubba erect. 
Hell, Bubba could have stood up for himself given half a chance.  Helen wasn't
giving an inch.  Her grip was exquisitely tight. The part of Bubba not firmly
grasped in her hands was in her mouth, and . . .."Oh, OOOOHHHH!  Aahhhhh!  Do
thaaat again!"  I shouted, I realized I was taking a serious licking here as I
came fully awake and started to take inventory of my body parts.  Helen released
her top hand from my cock to caress my balls.  Simultaneously, she started to
swallow Bubba.  I wasn't gonna last much longer at this pace. Reluctantly, I
rolled away from Helen's clutches, and mumbled:  "Let's try fucking for a
change."  "Great idea. You're a genius Jim, " Helen replied, through lipstick
smeared lips.  She lay on her back and as Bubba slid in her to the hilt Helen
cried, "Oh, boy," and tried to touch the ceiling with her toes.  I think she did
on my third stoke.  At least I thought I detected red nailpolish on the ceiling
later.  We had begun a torrid horizontal ballet.

I could still taste and smell Helen's sweet juices encrusted in my mustache and
beard. My early morning mouth breath didn't seem as bad as usual, so I risked
kissing her.  ("Well, come on, reader - she didn't brush either - and fairs
fair.")

Helen didn't object, in fact it was a prolonged exchange of tongues, saliva and I
thought for a second, a filling she'd extracted trying to suck my tongue out of
my head.

Eventually, (Okay, okay, I'm not Superman).  It didn't take long (is that
better?) before I started to cum, and cum, and cum.  (I do that very well, thank
you very much.) Ah, bliss.  We held tight to one another for a time and I went
back to sleep only to dream that my semen dried while we were cuddling together
and we were now stuck together for eternity.  When I later told Helen about the
dream she thought it kind of romantic.  Go figure!

CHAPTER 5.

We awoke within minutes of each other.  It was about ten after six. Helen bounded
out of bed and dashed for the shower.  Feeling somewhat playful, and with the
early signs of being able to do something constructive with a quasi-erection
perking hither-dither, I followed.  I was surprised when Helen halted my entry
into the shower. "What's wrong," I asked.  Helen smiled, then frowned and said,
"We don't have time right now. Now don't tempt me. I mean it.   I've got to get
dressed and out for an important interview.  Besides, I don't have a thing to
eat; we'll have to get breakfast at the Frenchman's.  I decided against the inane
remarks that came to mind, and agreed with her. "Okay, the Frenchman's it is.

I was impressed with Helen's ability to make herself very presentable within a
short time frame.  In fact, she had to wait for me before we could leave. "Damn
shoelaces anyway."

Thirty minutes later, we pulled into the Frenchman's for breakfast. Oddly enough,
the Frenchman's was actually owned and operated by a small henna-haired French
woman in her fifties named Lilly.  The kitchen was run by her husband, a tall,
thin Romanian, who was known to laugh and talk incessantly, while turning out the
best breakfast and lunch food in town.

We went in, took a booth by a window looking out onto a major intersection as it
braced itself for the new days bustling activity, and ordered breakfast.  I led
off our conversation.  "Helen, last night . . . well, last night was great." At
this point, wanting to say something profoundly romantic, I could only manage to
stammer, " I, . . . I, . . .."    "Jim," she was smiling at me as she said it. "I
thought last night was sensational.  Hopefully we'll have more nights like that;
perhaps we'll even have mornings and afternoons as well.  Right now I think we
should tell each other a little something about ourselves. Would you like me to
start it off?"  And that solidified the beginning of a wonderful relationship,
now well into its second year.

We saw each other often after that day, but never discussed the possibility of a
future together.  My wife, Maggie's status changed for the worse during this
period and we all waited for the inevitable. Tess, my mother-in-law, was very
much aware of our relationship and accepted it æ being very cordial on those
times Helen and I met her. Tess even mentioned that I'd made a good choice and
never raised the subject again.  This helped me immeasurably in deflecting the
guilt that surfaced in the days following Maggie's passing two weeks later.