"I Can't Stop Loving You," Ch. 02
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"I Can't Stop Loving You," Ch. 02
A devoted husband, 68-year-old Walter, an older man, found love again with 39-year-old Susan, a much younger woman after his beloved Mary died.
Continued from Chapter 01:
Seemingly, not interested in meeting someone new, he didn't see her sometimes looking over at him and watching him while he listened to the beautiful music he played. With her so very lonely and obviously with him lonely too, he didn't seem interested in her in the way she could be interested in him if only they met. Only, with her still mourning the loss of one man, Susan wasn't yet ready to love another man so soon after the death of Patrick. She still had William in her head too. Yet, hard to believe that so much time had already passed, Patrick had been dead and buried for 1 year, two months, and three days. How was that possible? Where did the time go?
Always seeing him alone, being that he didn't look like he wanted and/or needed her company or anyone's company for that matter, perhaps it was better that she left him alone and in peace. Just as she needed to be left alone with her bad self, perhaps he needed to be left alone with his bad self too. Perhaps the one he lost was his love of his life, his wife, someone he loved and had been together with for a number of years and now he was done with women. Maybe he wasn't even a heterosexual man but a gay man. Perhaps the one he lost was his gay, best friend, his partner in life, and his lover, someone he loved and had been together with for a number of years. Yet, still so very curious, unable to help herself, she wondered who he was visiting.
She wondered if he was visiting his mother, his father, his wife, his child, or his special friend in the way she paid her respects to her special friends whenever she made the time to visit their graves. Even from the fifty yard distance between them, he looked so very sad. He looked sad in the way that William and Patrick looked sad when she met them in this very cemetery and in the way that she looked sad now. She could feel his pain and his suffering sorrow. In the way she helped eased their pain, she knew that she could ease his pain too.
Actually, if they were to meet, in the way she did with William and with Patrick, they'd both be helping one another. If they were to meet, in the way she did with William first and with Patrick next, they could become friends, good friends, close friends, and companions before perhaps becoming lovers. Yet, in the way that William and Patrick were ready to move on with their lives before meeting her, with him obviously still in the grieving period, he didn't seem ready to begin a new relationship with her or with anyone.
Chapter 02:
Believing that he was, she wondered if he was as lost, as sad, as depressed, as alone, and as lonely as she was after first losing her beloved William and now after losing her beloved Patrick. To lose one love of her life is tragic enough but to lose two loves of her life is not fair and not right. Just as she was so very happy with William, she was so very happy with Patrick too. Then, when they died, just as she was so very sad over William, she was so very sad over Patrick too.
As if this cemetery was her Hell and a sad joke doomed to repeat the death of a loved one over and again, maybe she was cursed to find love and to lose love over and again. As if she was their angel of mercy, maybe her job was to make those last few years of the older men she befriended, loved, and had sex with happy years. Keeping her from thinking of her love lost, they certainly helped her through some hard times with their time, their wisdom, and their kind generosity in the way she helped them with her love, companionship, and sex.
Able to constantly and continually entertain her, older men always had a funny joke to tell her that she never heard or an interesting tidbit of history that she never knew. Always eager to speak their mind, offer their opinions, and tell her their point of views, they were always up on the current events and the latest politics too. Having a childlike delivery and sense of enthusiasm, they thought every joke they told her was funny and every tidbit of history was interesting. Yet, even if their jokes weren't funny or their historical tidbits weren't interesting, she laughed and listened anyway. In the way they shared their jokes, their current events information, their politics, and their historical tidbits with her made them funny, newsworthy, and interesting. More than anything else, she missed their personality and their zest for life.
As if telling her a fable that was another lesson learned in life, older men always had a new story to tell her. As if they were her teacher, her mentor, and her oracle, older men schooled her in how to live morally, modestly, spiritually, and financially better. Older men educated her as to why people were the way they were when they weren't at their best. Older men were as wise as they were witty and made for charming companions.
In the way that older men seemed lucky and blessed to be with her, she felt equally as lucky and blessed to be with them too. Forsaking younger men and men her own age, Susan was more attracted to an older man, a man old enough to be her father. She was more interested in and attracted to a man who could lighten her load and enlighten her with knowledge and wisdom while lighting her way to make her life more fun and interesting.
"I love you, Daddy," she enjoyed calling them Daddy as much as they seemingly enjoyed hearing her call them Daddy.
* * * * *
Just as she was lucky to have found someone like William, she was lucky to have found someone like Patrick too. What were the odds of finding the two loves of her life in all places a cemetery? With her unsuccessfully looking for her dream man in clubs, in bars, and online dating sites, she never thought she'd find the loves of her life in of all places a cemetery.
Yet, had William not died, just as she was mourning the loss of him when she met Patrick, she never would have met Patrick. Now, alone again and hating being alone with her bad self, with her feeling so lonely, she needed someone in her life. She needed a man, a strong man, and a man of character, distinction, and conviction. She needed to find another older man to call him her Daddy. Having gone through her share of young men and men her age, she now preferred older men, men who were old enough to be the father she never knew and never had in her life.
Older men knew how to treat a woman. Whether holding a door open for her, pulling out her chair and pushing it back in, opening a car door, or making her feel as if she was the only woman in the room, older men had class. Always knowing the right things to say, older men were polite and have manners. They'd never say anything inappropriate or insulting to her. Just the opposite, they were always complimenting her hair, her perfume, and her clothes. Compared to the younger players out there, the cheaters, the beaters, and the deceivers, older men treated her better. Older men were not only sincere but also honest and treated her in the way she wanted and needed to be treated.
Seemingly with her their second chance at love and with them correcting all of the mistakes they made with women in their past, older men where lovingly attentive and kind to her. Instead of only talking about themselves, older men actually talked to her about deeper and more meaningful things in life. Even when she knew little or nothing about what they were discussing, they included her in their conversations. Older men not only talked to her but also they listened to her and responded in kind to all that she said.
'Wow,' she had grown accustomed to that attentiveness, something she never received when with a younger man or even a man her age.
Having never had a real conversation with men her age, younger, or a little older, how refreshing it was to have a real conversation about life, current events, and world happenings instead of having sex, sex, and more sex? Careful what she said sometimes, younger men and to men her age wouldn't think twice about hitting her. Always having to filter whatever she said, she could never speak her mind or voice her opinion with a younger man and a man her own age. Never feeling threatened or brutalized, her relationship was so different with an older man.
Careful what she said sometimes, instead of hitting her, older men actually remembered all that she said and could literally play it back word for word. Older men not only listened to her but also they were interested in hearing what she had to say. Older men welcomed having a conversation with her. Further proof that they were listening and not just zoning out, they responded to her by asking her questions to what she had just said. Older men were not only her lovers but her friends, her best friends.
Forget the kissing, the touching, the holding, the hugging, the feeling, and the fondling, younger men and men her age just wanted to get her naked as quickly as they could. Forget about foreplay, younger men and men her age, just wanted sex. Forget about facing her to make love while kissing her and feeling her, younger men and men her age, just wanted to bend her over the couch, the bed, or a table and fuck her from behind. Forget about reciprocating the sexual pleasure she gave them by licking her pussy while fingering her pussy, they just wanted a blowjob. In the way it was never about her, sex was all about them. They just wanted to get off by cumming in her mouth while watching her swallow before leaving.
As if her clothes were on fire, instead of just stripping off her clothes in a panicked rush to get her naked, older men romanced her before slowly seducing her. Older men never ripped off her clothes in lust. Instead they kissed her while feeling her through her clothes before they helped her undress with love. Showing her more romantic passion than sexual passion, older men appreciated every minute they had with her naked or not. Older men treated her in the way that every men should learn how to treat a woman.
Taking their sweet time with foreplay, it was as if their kisses, touches, feels, pats, squeezes, and fondles were part of the way older men made love to her. Instead of staring at the back of her head while they groped her tits and fucked her pussy doggie style, older men kissed her, held her, and felt her through her clothes while looking her eyes. In the way that younger men and men her age only wanted to use her for sex, a two-way street, older men were there for her instead of there for themselves.
Older men loved giving her oral pleasure as much as they enjoyed receiving oral pleasure. More sexually experienced, older men were ready, willing, and able to make her cum before they did. Older men knew everything about her where younger men and men her age didn't take the time to know much more about her than her breast size, that they loved her ass, and that she was a natural blonde. Older men were a pleasure while younger men and men her age were a drag.
Instead of having a one night stand, she developed a real friendship with both William first and then with Patrick later. Instead of just having an affair, she had a friendship, a companionship, and a loving relationship. Instead of their relationship being one way and their way as it was with younger men and men her age, a relationship with an older man was a shared, give and take, and back and forth connection. A win/win for both, in the way she cared for and loved them, older men cared for and loved her too. There was nothing like the love she felt when loved by her surrogate father, her Daddy.
"I love you, Daddy," she used to say to William before she habitually uttered that phrase to Patrick too.
* * * * *
In the way that it made them feel her love when she called them Daddy is how she truly felt when she called them Daddy. Indeed, she loved them as if they were her Daddy, albeit a Daddy with sexual benefits. Yet, more than just a father figure, they were indeed her Daddy. They were always there for her. She was as much of a part of their lives as they were in her life. Whereas younger men and men her age didn't even answer their phones to take her call, as if they really were her Daddy, just a phone call away, her surrogate fathers would come running.
'I love you, Daddy,' the memory of those words now made her so sad instead of so happy.
Too many times to remember, how many times did she say that to William while throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him, French kissing him? Too many times to remember, how many times did she say that to Patrick while throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him, French kissing him? All she knew was in the way that they treated her as if she was their daughter, albeit with sexual benefits, she treated them as if they were her father, albeit with sexual benefits too.
"I love you, Daddy," she said numerous times, too many times to remember, when she was with them, talking to them on the phone, and/or when sending them an e-mail.
Nothing more than a familiar expression of respect in the acknowledgement of the differences in their ages, as much as they enjoyed her calling them Daddy, she enjoyed calling them Daddy too. Instead of calling her daughter, they'd call her Susan, Susan Jill, or just Jill. Preferring to be called Susan, she never liked the name Sue or Suzie.
Yet, whichever name they called her by, as long as they called her, she didn't really care. Just as they were important to her in her life, it made her feel loved to know that she was as important to them in their lives too. The important thing was that they not only called her but also they knew who she was as a person. They knew that she truly loved them as much as they truly loved her.
"I love you, Susan," they'd say back to her when treating her more like their friend, their companion, and their lover than they deemed her their daughter.
Even though they weren't her biological fathers, with her not even knowing who her real father was, she felt as if they were her surrogate fathers. She felt as if she was their adult, adopted daughter. Aside from the deeply rooted psychological issues of her looking for her Daddy, what was wrong with that? Instead of being with a man who was cruel to her, who treated her like shit, and/or who beat her, she was with a good, kind, and loving man, albeit an older man, a man who not only loved her but also respected her. Able to put their age differences aside, when she thought about her relationship with men in that regard, she didn't see anything wrong with having a friendship and a sexual relationship with a man old enough to be her father.
For sure, if they were her biological father, she wouldn't be having sex with them. For sure, if they were her real father, she wouldn't be fucking them and sucking them. Something she could never bring herself to do, sex between a father and daughter would be too weird. Sex between a father and daughter would be too creepy. Sex between a father and daughter would be nasty.
Instead of just the mutually loving, non-sexual relationship that she hoped and needed to have with an older man, their bond quickly grew to include physical and emotional intimacy and sex. Sex between a father and daughter would be incest and their relationship incestuous. Whether younger, her age, or much older, friends first before becoming lovers, she needed to trust any man before she could sleep with them.
Sexual relations between a father and daughter were not only forbidden but also illegal in most states, countries, and religions. Yet, without experiencing all of the complications that went along with having an incestuous relationship between a father and his daughter, sex between a younger woman and an older man was the next best thing. As opposed to a daughter having sex with her father in an incestuous relationship, sex between an older men and a much younger woman was as legal as it was accepted. Just as Susan enjoyed falling in love with a man who was old enough to be her father, she enjoyed having sex with a man who was old enough to be her father too. Feeling more like love than sex, the sex was different. The sex was more loving and actually so much better.
* * * * *
What an older man couldn't make up for in stamina and endurance, he made up for in many other loving ways. Putting the sex aside as only one small part of making love and having a loving relationship, when taking inventory of all of their positives, older men were better lovers than younger men and men her age. Bypassing everything else, the romance, the loving touches, the foreplay, the conversations, and the communication, younger men and men her age only wanted sex whereas older men wanted it all. Seemingly, when with a younger man or a man her age, once the lights were out, it didn't much matter what she looked like or who she was as long as she had hands, a mouth, tits, and a pussy.
Women on the other hand were different. Just as men needed more visual stimulation, women needed more emotional stimulation. In that regard, more younger woman would feel comfortable having sex with a much older man than there are men who would feel comfortable having sex with a much older women. Then, of course, there are those men who yearn to have sex with their mothers but that's a different issue entirely.
Forget about all of the rest, younger men and men her age only wanted a blowjob. Younger men and men her age didn't care about her needs, her emotions, and whether they even sexually satisfied her. When not giving her an orgasm, younger men and men her age left her sexually frustrated. Older men always gave her an orgasm before she gave them one.
When with an older man, they talked before sex, during sex, and after having sex. By merely talking to her, listening to her, remembering what she said, and understanding her, older men took the time to make sure that they communicated with her emotionally first before stripping off her clothes to connect with her physically. Sex with an older man as opposed to having sex with younger men and men her age were totally different. There's more to a relationship than just sex and older men always gave her what she wanted and needed. Never leaving her sexually frustrated, whether with their fingers, their tongues, or their cocks, older men always made sure that she was sexually satisfied.
Older men gave her the sexual pleasure that they wanted her to receive first before they sexually indulged themselves. An older man did kind and loving things that younger men and men her age would never even think to do. From doing her laundry to serving her breakfast in bed, there was so much more to be said about a man who knew how to treat a woman when not naked and in bed. More than just sex, whether watching a chick flick, a foreign film, or even playing Scrabble or chess, it was romantic to have a man doting on her and doing thoughtful, kind, and considerate things for her.
Younger men and men her age didn't even stay long enough to enjoy the afterglow of sex. From the moment they touched her to the moment they left, everything was rushed and too rushed to be savored and enjoyed. As if they were in a race and in a hurry to finish, younger men and men her age didn't take the quality time that older men did. Not even staying for a glass of wine or a cup of coffee, younger men and men her age were sometimes already gone from her bed before she had even awakened.
Younger men and men her age were eager to get in her pants before having sex. Younger men and men her age didn't call her after having sex. With younger men and men her age disappearing after having sex, younger men and men her age didn't buy her flowers, perfume, jewelry and make reservations for dinner the night after they had sex in the way older men did. Other than having sex, younger men and men her age didn't spend quality time with her to talk to her and listen to what she said. Where younger men and men her age were clueless, older men knew what a woman wanted and needed to have not just in a sexual relationship but also in a loving relationship too.
* * * * *
When her mystery man wasn't there one day when she was there, perhaps he had a doctor's appointment or was ill, curious enough and nosy enough to do so, she walked over to see the name on the headstone he visited. Now so accustomed to hearing the love songs playing sweetly in the background, something she thought was weird to hear before, it was now weird not to have music in the cemetery. She stood in front of the headstone that he so lovingly guarded to look at her name. Mary, her name was Mary, and she was only 62-years-old when she died on Valentine's Day, of all the days to die. With him sitting there every day, with her dying so young and on Valentine's Day, if only she knew what happened, their love story could be the greatest love story never told.
As bad as dying on her birthday, their anniversary, Christmas, or New Year's Day, or on any given day of significance, how awful to die on the day of love? Now the day of love will forever be marred and forever be sullied by the sadness of her death. Yet, envious of Mary dying on Valentine's Day, with her death on that special day of love, she forever put that day in the mind and in the heart of her special someone. If Susan could chose a day to die, so romantic to die on the day of love, she'd chose Valentine's Day to die on too.
Curious now, maybe because she was bored and no longer had a life of her own after losing both William and then Patrick to death, with her not even knowing the woman, she wondered how Mary died. Both William and Patrick died of heart failure when she wasn't even there with them to hold them, to hug them, to comfort them, and to kiss them. She wasn't there with them to bid them her last goodbyes and to cry her tears of sadness over them when they took their last breaths. Now she wondered more about him, the man she saw at the cemetery every time she visited there than she did about William and/or about Patrick.
Who was he? With everyone having a unique story to tell, she wondered what his story was. With everyone having a sexual fantasy and with no two sexual fantasies quite the same, she wondered what his sexual fantasy was. She wondered what his name was. Not that it made much of a difference as long as the romantic connection was there, she wondered how old he was? With William 72-years-old when he died, Patrick was 73-years-old when he died. Hard to tell, she wondered if he was younger or older than William and Patrick when she met them at their respective ages of 69-years-old and 70-years-old.
With her coming to the cemetery at different times of the day and with her seeing him every time she was there, she imagined he sat there alone and lonely day after day and hour after hour. Sometimes he sat there in silence and without playing music. As if he was Mary's eternal flame, seemingly so in love with her and devoted to her, she wished she had someone in her life who loved her and who was as devoted to her.
"I Can't Stop Loving You..."
Just as she thought that, breaking the absolute silence of the cemetery, Ray Charles' song played through her mind and through the air. As if he was serenading her, romancing her, and seducing her, that man, whoever he was, was playing her song on his cassette recorder. Wishing Mary's love story was her love story, she envied the love affair he had with Mary. Obviously, there was something so very special about Mary in life as there still was in death. She wondered what it was about Mary.
She had loving affairs too. She had William, who loved her in that special way. Then, she had Patrick who loved her in that special way too. Yet, alone now, she missed the daily devotion, the attention, and their doting on her in the way they made her feel so special, so needed, so wanted, so desired, and so loved. She missed the serious conversations and the laughter they both gave her. Alas, now so alone, so lonely, so sexually frustrated, and with her having so much love to give, she had no one who couldn't stop loving her in the way that she still couldn't stop loving them.
"I Can't Stop Loving You," continued playing through the cemetery as if it was an endless echo.
Those words moved her. They haunted her. They saddened her. Wherever she went those words went with her and were in her head to inspire flashbacks of William and Patrick as if they were still there with her. In the way the song haunted her, the memories of her deceased lovers haunted her too. At least when she dies, she'll have two special friends waiting for her to arrive in Heaven.
* * * * *
She wondered about her mystery man again. Maybe with him feeling remorsefully guilty, he was somehow directly or indirectly responsible for Mary's death. Maybe, in a fit of rage, he accidentally killed her and felt so sorry for her death that he was cursed to visit her grave every day. Maybe, because she didn't give him sex, never gave him sex, getting away with murder, he deliberately killed her and hid her murder from the police.
Now, as much as she wondered about him, she wondered about Mary. Maybe she died of cancer, breast cancer, stomach cancer, brain cancer, or lung cancer. Maybe she died in a fall or in a car accident. Maybe she died in a freak accident and was electrocuted by lightning, a tree fell on her, was washed away in a flood, or killed in a fire. Maybe just her time to go, having a heart attack, she died of that or of natural causes associated with some rare disease and subsequent long-term illness.
Maybe, with the excitement too much for her, he surprised her with flowers, candy, something sexy to wear, perfume, and/or jewelry, and a romantic card on the day of love she died, Valentine's Day. Maybe, as she'd liked to believe with her romantic heart, with the both of them so in love, they made love longer and more passionately than they should have had at their age. Maybe while he was inside of her and making love to her before fucking her a little too hard, she died of a heart attack or a cerebral hemorrhage while making love on Valentine's Day. Now, the reason for his daily devotion, his daily visits, and playing love songs, she imagined he felt as guilty as he was directly or indirectly responsible for her death and untimely demise by loving her too much.
'Wow,' thought Susan to herself while swooning with the romantic albeit deadly thought of Mary dying on Valentine's Day. 'What a way to go? To die while making love on Valentine's Day, how cool is that? With her never thinking about her death and how she'd like to die, if she was given the choice, to die while making love on Valentine's Day is how she'd like to die too.'
If she had a choice of how she'd die, with Ray Charles singing "I Can't Stop Loving You," in the background, she'd want to die naked in bed and in the arms of her lover on Valentine's Day. As if she was Lady Gaga in American Horror Story Hotel, how lovingly romantic to put a loving spin on something as horribly tragic as death. Only, no doubt, her lover may not have the same romantic fantasy of her dying in his arms while having sex. Yet, combining the pleasure of love with the tragedy of death, dying while making love was now her latest sexual fantasy to have nonetheless. With her having no one in her life and with apologies to no one, she was allowed that sexual fantasy or any other sexual fantasy that she wanted to have.
Yet, rearing its ugly head with fraught to frighten her fiction and fantasy with fact, reality was always there to ruin her sexual fantasy. In fiction, as her sexual fantasy, she'd love to die in her lover's arms on Valentine's Day. In reality a deceased person loses all of their muscle control and bodily fluids. Spoiling her sexual fantasy, unless the person was into scat, shit play, golden showers, and/or pee play, she knew her fantasy of dying while making love wasn't a realistic one or even an attractive choice. Ruining the image with revulsion, dying while making love could be a very smelly experience and a disgusting proposition.
Moreover, with her dead in her lover's arms on Valentine's Day, unless the person was a necrophiliac and into necrophilia, having sex with a corpse was nasty. With her giving him too much of a dose of reality by dying while making love on the day of love, Valentine's Day, how could she leave her lover with such a mess? There's nothing worse than the mess that a postmortem body makes. With her losing much of her bodily fluids and stinking up the whole house, he'd have to fumigate and deodorize the whole house, toss out the mattress, and burn the pillows and the sheets. For sure, not something she'd like to leave her lover to remember her by, that's not an image she'd like to leave him or anyone at all.
To be continued...
Please vote. Please give me the support of your vote.
*
"I Can't Stop Loving You," Ch. 02
A devoted husband, 68-year-old Walter, an older man, found love again with 39-year-old Susan, a much younger woman after his beloved Mary died.
Continued from Chapter 01:
Seemingly, not interested in meeting someone new, he didn't see her sometimes looking over at him and watching him while he listened to the beautiful music he played. With her so very lonely and obviously with him lonely too, he didn't seem interested in her in the way she could be interested in him if only they met. Only, with her still mourning the loss of one man, Susan wasn't yet ready to love another man so soon after the death of Patrick. She still had William in her head too. Yet, hard to believe that so much time had already passed, Patrick had been dead and buried for 1 year, two months, and three days. How was that possible? Where did the time go?
Always seeing him alone, being that he didn't look like he wanted and/or needed her company or anyone's company for that matter, perhaps it was better that she left him alone and in peace. Just as she needed to be left alone with her bad self, perhaps he needed to be left alone with his bad self too. Perhaps the one he lost was his love of his life, his wife, someone he loved and had been together with for a number of years and now he was done with women. Maybe he wasn't even a heterosexual man but a gay man. Perhaps the one he lost was his gay, best friend, his partner in life, and his lover, someone he loved and had been together with for a number of years. Yet, still so very curious, unable to help herself, she wondered who he was visiting.
She wondered if he was visiting his mother, his father, his wife, his child, or his special friend in the way she paid her respects to her special friends whenever she made the time to visit their graves. Even from the fifty yard distance between them, he looked so very sad. He looked sad in the way that William and Patrick looked sad when she met them in this very cemetery and in the way that she looked sad now. She could feel his pain and his suffering sorrow. In the way she helped eased their pain, she knew that she could ease his pain too.
Actually, if they were to meet, in the way she did with William and with Patrick, they'd both be helping one another. If they were to meet, in the way she did with William first and with Patrick next, they could become friends, good friends, close friends, and companions before perhaps becoming lovers. Yet, in the way that William and Patrick were ready to move on with their lives before meeting her, with him obviously still in the grieving period, he didn't seem ready to begin a new relationship with her or with anyone.
Chapter 02:
Believing that he was, she wondered if he was as lost, as sad, as depressed, as alone, and as lonely as she was after first losing her beloved William and now after losing her beloved Patrick. To lose one love of her life is tragic enough but to lose two loves of her life is not fair and not right. Just as she was so very happy with William, she was so very happy with Patrick too. Then, when they died, just as she was so very sad over William, she was so very sad over Patrick too.
As if this cemetery was her Hell and a sad joke doomed to repeat the death of a loved one over and again, maybe she was cursed to find love and to lose love over and again. As if she was their angel of mercy, maybe her job was to make those last few years of the older men she befriended, loved, and had sex with happy years. Keeping her from thinking of her love lost, they certainly helped her through some hard times with their time, their wisdom, and their kind generosity in the way she helped them with her love, companionship, and sex.
Able to constantly and continually entertain her, older men always had a funny joke to tell her that she never heard or an interesting tidbit of history that she never knew. Always eager to speak their mind, offer their opinions, and tell her their point of views, they were always up on the current events and the latest politics too. Having a childlike delivery and sense of enthusiasm, they thought every joke they told her was funny and every tidbit of history was interesting. Yet, even if their jokes weren't funny or their historical tidbits weren't interesting, she laughed and listened anyway. In the way they shared their jokes, their current events information, their politics, and their historical tidbits with her made them funny, newsworthy, and interesting. More than anything else, she missed their personality and their zest for life.
As if telling her a fable that was another lesson learned in life, older men always had a new story to tell her. As if they were her teacher, her mentor, and her oracle, older men schooled her in how to live morally, modestly, spiritually, and financially better. Older men educated her as to why people were the way they were when they weren't at their best. Older men were as wise as they were witty and made for charming companions.
In the way that older men seemed lucky and blessed to be with her, she felt equally as lucky and blessed to be with them too. Forsaking younger men and men her own age, Susan was more attracted to an older man, a man old enough to be her father. She was more interested in and attracted to a man who could lighten her load and enlighten her with knowledge and wisdom while lighting her way to make her life more fun and interesting.
"I love you, Daddy," she enjoyed calling them Daddy as much as they seemingly enjoyed hearing her call them Daddy.
* * * * *
Just as she was lucky to have found someone like William, she was lucky to have found someone like Patrick too. What were the odds of finding the two loves of her life in all places a cemetery? With her unsuccessfully looking for her dream man in clubs, in bars, and online dating sites, she never thought she'd find the loves of her life in of all places a cemetery.
Yet, had William not died, just as she was mourning the loss of him when she met Patrick, she never would have met Patrick. Now, alone again and hating being alone with her bad self, with her feeling so lonely, she needed someone in her life. She needed a man, a strong man, and a man of character, distinction, and conviction. She needed to find another older man to call him her Daddy. Having gone through her share of young men and men her age, she now preferred older men, men who were old enough to be the father she never knew and never had in her life.
Older men knew how to treat a woman. Whether holding a door open for her, pulling out her chair and pushing it back in, opening a car door, or making her feel as if she was the only woman in the room, older men had class. Always knowing the right things to say, older men were polite and have manners. They'd never say anything inappropriate or insulting to her. Just the opposite, they were always complimenting her hair, her perfume, and her clothes. Compared to the younger players out there, the cheaters, the beaters, and the deceivers, older men treated her better. Older men were not only sincere but also honest and treated her in the way she wanted and needed to be treated.
Seemingly with her their second chance at love and with them correcting all of the mistakes they made with women in their past, older men where lovingly attentive and kind to her. Instead of only talking about themselves, older men actually talked to her about deeper and more meaningful things in life. Even when she knew little or nothing about what they were discussing, they included her in their conversations. Older men not only talked to her but also they listened to her and responded in kind to all that she said.
'Wow,' she had grown accustomed to that attentiveness, something she never received when with a younger man or even a man her age.
Having never had a real conversation with men her age, younger, or a little older, how refreshing it was to have a real conversation about life, current events, and world happenings instead of having sex, sex, and more sex? Careful what she said sometimes, younger men and to men her age wouldn't think twice about hitting her. Always having to filter whatever she said, she could never speak her mind or voice her opinion with a younger man and a man her own age. Never feeling threatened or brutalized, her relationship was so different with an older man.
Careful what she said sometimes, instead of hitting her, older men actually remembered all that she said and could literally play it back word for word. Older men not only listened to her but also they were interested in hearing what she had to say. Older men welcomed having a conversation with her. Further proof that they were listening and not just zoning out, they responded to her by asking her questions to what she had just said. Older men were not only her lovers but her friends, her best friends.
Forget the kissing, the touching, the holding, the hugging, the feeling, and the fondling, younger men and men her age just wanted to get her naked as quickly as they could. Forget about foreplay, younger men and men her age, just wanted sex. Forget about facing her to make love while kissing her and feeling her, younger men and men her age, just wanted to bend her over the couch, the bed, or a table and fuck her from behind. Forget about reciprocating the sexual pleasure she gave them by licking her pussy while fingering her pussy, they just wanted a blowjob. In the way it was never about her, sex was all about them. They just wanted to get off by cumming in her mouth while watching her swallow before leaving.
As if her clothes were on fire, instead of just stripping off her clothes in a panicked rush to get her naked, older men romanced her before slowly seducing her. Older men never ripped off her clothes in lust. Instead they kissed her while feeling her through her clothes before they helped her undress with love. Showing her more romantic passion than sexual passion, older men appreciated every minute they had with her naked or not. Older men treated her in the way that every men should learn how to treat a woman.
Taking their sweet time with foreplay, it was as if their kisses, touches, feels, pats, squeezes, and fondles were part of the way older men made love to her. Instead of staring at the back of her head while they groped her tits and fucked her pussy doggie style, older men kissed her, held her, and felt her through her clothes while looking her eyes. In the way that younger men and men her age only wanted to use her for sex, a two-way street, older men were there for her instead of there for themselves.
Older men loved giving her oral pleasure as much as they enjoyed receiving oral pleasure. More sexually experienced, older men were ready, willing, and able to make her cum before they did. Older men knew everything about her where younger men and men her age didn't take the time to know much more about her than her breast size, that they loved her ass, and that she was a natural blonde. Older men were a pleasure while younger men and men her age were a drag.
Instead of having a one night stand, she developed a real friendship with both William first and then with Patrick later. Instead of just having an affair, she had a friendship, a companionship, and a loving relationship. Instead of their relationship being one way and their way as it was with younger men and men her age, a relationship with an older man was a shared, give and take, and back and forth connection. A win/win for both, in the way she cared for and loved them, older men cared for and loved her too. There was nothing like the love she felt when loved by her surrogate father, her Daddy.
"I love you, Daddy," she used to say to William before she habitually uttered that phrase to Patrick too.
* * * * *
In the way that it made them feel her love when she called them Daddy is how she truly felt when she called them Daddy. Indeed, she loved them as if they were her Daddy, albeit a Daddy with sexual benefits. Yet, more than just a father figure, they were indeed her Daddy. They were always there for her. She was as much of a part of their lives as they were in her life. Whereas younger men and men her age didn't even answer their phones to take her call, as if they really were her Daddy, just a phone call away, her surrogate fathers would come running.
'I love you, Daddy,' the memory of those words now made her so sad instead of so happy.
Too many times to remember, how many times did she say that to William while throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him, French kissing him? Too many times to remember, how many times did she say that to Patrick while throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him, French kissing him? All she knew was in the way that they treated her as if she was their daughter, albeit with sexual benefits, she treated them as if they were her father, albeit with sexual benefits too.
"I love you, Daddy," she said numerous times, too many times to remember, when she was with them, talking to them on the phone, and/or when sending them an e-mail.
Nothing more than a familiar expression of respect in the acknowledgement of the differences in their ages, as much as they enjoyed her calling them Daddy, she enjoyed calling them Daddy too. Instead of calling her daughter, they'd call her Susan, Susan Jill, or just Jill. Preferring to be called Susan, she never liked the name Sue or Suzie.
Yet, whichever name they called her by, as long as they called her, she didn't really care. Just as they were important to her in her life, it made her feel loved to know that she was as important to them in their lives too. The important thing was that they not only called her but also they knew who she was as a person. They knew that she truly loved them as much as they truly loved her.
"I love you, Susan," they'd say back to her when treating her more like their friend, their companion, and their lover than they deemed her their daughter.
Even though they weren't her biological fathers, with her not even knowing who her real father was, she felt as if they were her surrogate fathers. She felt as if she was their adult, adopted daughter. Aside from the deeply rooted psychological issues of her looking for her Daddy, what was wrong with that? Instead of being with a man who was cruel to her, who treated her like shit, and/or who beat her, she was with a good, kind, and loving man, albeit an older man, a man who not only loved her but also respected her. Able to put their age differences aside, when she thought about her relationship with men in that regard, she didn't see anything wrong with having a friendship and a sexual relationship with a man old enough to be her father.
For sure, if they were her biological father, she wouldn't be having sex with them. For sure, if they were her real father, she wouldn't be fucking them and sucking them. Something she could never bring herself to do, sex between a father and daughter would be too weird. Sex between a father and daughter would be too creepy. Sex between a father and daughter would be nasty.
Instead of just the mutually loving, non-sexual relationship that she hoped and needed to have with an older man, their bond quickly grew to include physical and emotional intimacy and sex. Sex between a father and daughter would be incest and their relationship incestuous. Whether younger, her age, or much older, friends first before becoming lovers, she needed to trust any man before she could sleep with them.
Sexual relations between a father and daughter were not only forbidden but also illegal in most states, countries, and religions. Yet, without experiencing all of the complications that went along with having an incestuous relationship between a father and his daughter, sex between a younger woman and an older man was the next best thing. As opposed to a daughter having sex with her father in an incestuous relationship, sex between an older men and a much younger woman was as legal as it was accepted. Just as Susan enjoyed falling in love with a man who was old enough to be her father, she enjoyed having sex with a man who was old enough to be her father too. Feeling more like love than sex, the sex was different. The sex was more loving and actually so much better.
* * * * *
What an older man couldn't make up for in stamina and endurance, he made up for in many other loving ways. Putting the sex aside as only one small part of making love and having a loving relationship, when taking inventory of all of their positives, older men were better lovers than younger men and men her age. Bypassing everything else, the romance, the loving touches, the foreplay, the conversations, and the communication, younger men and men her age only wanted sex whereas older men wanted it all. Seemingly, when with a younger man or a man her age, once the lights were out, it didn't much matter what she looked like or who she was as long as she had hands, a mouth, tits, and a pussy.
Women on the other hand were different. Just as men needed more visual stimulation, women needed more emotional stimulation. In that regard, more younger woman would feel comfortable having sex with a much older man than there are men who would feel comfortable having sex with a much older women. Then, of course, there are those men who yearn to have sex with their mothers but that's a different issue entirely.
Forget about all of the rest, younger men and men her age only wanted a blowjob. Younger men and men her age didn't care about her needs, her emotions, and whether they even sexually satisfied her. When not giving her an orgasm, younger men and men her age left her sexually frustrated. Older men always gave her an orgasm before she gave them one.
When with an older man, they talked before sex, during sex, and after having sex. By merely talking to her, listening to her, remembering what she said, and understanding her, older men took the time to make sure that they communicated with her emotionally first before stripping off her clothes to connect with her physically. Sex with an older man as opposed to having sex with younger men and men her age were totally different. There's more to a relationship than just sex and older men always gave her what she wanted and needed. Never leaving her sexually frustrated, whether with their fingers, their tongues, or their cocks, older men always made sure that she was sexually satisfied.
Older men gave her the sexual pleasure that they wanted her to receive first before they sexually indulged themselves. An older man did kind and loving things that younger men and men her age would never even think to do. From doing her laundry to serving her breakfast in bed, there was so much more to be said about a man who knew how to treat a woman when not naked and in bed. More than just sex, whether watching a chick flick, a foreign film, or even playing Scrabble or chess, it was romantic to have a man doting on her and doing thoughtful, kind, and considerate things for her.
Younger men and men her age didn't even stay long enough to enjoy the afterglow of sex. From the moment they touched her to the moment they left, everything was rushed and too rushed to be savored and enjoyed. As if they were in a race and in a hurry to finish, younger men and men her age didn't take the quality time that older men did. Not even staying for a glass of wine or a cup of coffee, younger men and men her age were sometimes already gone from her bed before she had even awakened.
Younger men and men her age were eager to get in her pants before having sex. Younger men and men her age didn't call her after having sex. With younger men and men her age disappearing after having sex, younger men and men her age didn't buy her flowers, perfume, jewelry and make reservations for dinner the night after they had sex in the way older men did. Other than having sex, younger men and men her age didn't spend quality time with her to talk to her and listen to what she said. Where younger men and men her age were clueless, older men knew what a woman wanted and needed to have not just in a sexual relationship but also in a loving relationship too.
* * * * *
When her mystery man wasn't there one day when she was there, perhaps he had a doctor's appointment or was ill, curious enough and nosy enough to do so, she walked over to see the name on the headstone he visited. Now so accustomed to hearing the love songs playing sweetly in the background, something she thought was weird to hear before, it was now weird not to have music in the cemetery. She stood in front of the headstone that he so lovingly guarded to look at her name. Mary, her name was Mary, and she was only 62-years-old when she died on Valentine's Day, of all the days to die. With him sitting there every day, with her dying so young and on Valentine's Day, if only she knew what happened, their love story could be the greatest love story never told.
As bad as dying on her birthday, their anniversary, Christmas, or New Year's Day, or on any given day of significance, how awful to die on the day of love? Now the day of love will forever be marred and forever be sullied by the sadness of her death. Yet, envious of Mary dying on Valentine's Day, with her death on that special day of love, she forever put that day in the mind and in the heart of her special someone. If Susan could chose a day to die, so romantic to die on the day of love, she'd chose Valentine's Day to die on too.
Curious now, maybe because she was bored and no longer had a life of her own after losing both William and then Patrick to death, with her not even knowing the woman, she wondered how Mary died. Both William and Patrick died of heart failure when she wasn't even there with them to hold them, to hug them, to comfort them, and to kiss them. She wasn't there with them to bid them her last goodbyes and to cry her tears of sadness over them when they took their last breaths. Now she wondered more about him, the man she saw at the cemetery every time she visited there than she did about William and/or about Patrick.
Who was he? With everyone having a unique story to tell, she wondered what his story was. With everyone having a sexual fantasy and with no two sexual fantasies quite the same, she wondered what his sexual fantasy was. She wondered what his name was. Not that it made much of a difference as long as the romantic connection was there, she wondered how old he was? With William 72-years-old when he died, Patrick was 73-years-old when he died. Hard to tell, she wondered if he was younger or older than William and Patrick when she met them at their respective ages of 69-years-old and 70-years-old.
With her coming to the cemetery at different times of the day and with her seeing him every time she was there, she imagined he sat there alone and lonely day after day and hour after hour. Sometimes he sat there in silence and without playing music. As if he was Mary's eternal flame, seemingly so in love with her and devoted to her, she wished she had someone in her life who loved her and who was as devoted to her.
"I Can't Stop Loving You..."
Just as she thought that, breaking the absolute silence of the cemetery, Ray Charles' song played through her mind and through the air. As if he was serenading her, romancing her, and seducing her, that man, whoever he was, was playing her song on his cassette recorder. Wishing Mary's love story was her love story, she envied the love affair he had with Mary. Obviously, there was something so very special about Mary in life as there still was in death. She wondered what it was about Mary.
She had loving affairs too. She had William, who loved her in that special way. Then, she had Patrick who loved her in that special way too. Yet, alone now, she missed the daily devotion, the attention, and their doting on her in the way they made her feel so special, so needed, so wanted, so desired, and so loved. She missed the serious conversations and the laughter they both gave her. Alas, now so alone, so lonely, so sexually frustrated, and with her having so much love to give, she had no one who couldn't stop loving her in the way that she still couldn't stop loving them.
"I Can't Stop Loving You," continued playing through the cemetery as if it was an endless echo.
Those words moved her. They haunted her. They saddened her. Wherever she went those words went with her and were in her head to inspire flashbacks of William and Patrick as if they were still there with her. In the way the song haunted her, the memories of her deceased lovers haunted her too. At least when she dies, she'll have two special friends waiting for her to arrive in Heaven.
* * * * *
She wondered about her mystery man again. Maybe with him feeling remorsefully guilty, he was somehow directly or indirectly responsible for Mary's death. Maybe, in a fit of rage, he accidentally killed her and felt so sorry for her death that he was cursed to visit her grave every day. Maybe, because she didn't give him sex, never gave him sex, getting away with murder, he deliberately killed her and hid her murder from the police.
Now, as much as she wondered about him, she wondered about Mary. Maybe she died of cancer, breast cancer, stomach cancer, brain cancer, or lung cancer. Maybe she died in a fall or in a car accident. Maybe she died in a freak accident and was electrocuted by lightning, a tree fell on her, was washed away in a flood, or killed in a fire. Maybe just her time to go, having a heart attack, she died of that or of natural causes associated with some rare disease and subsequent long-term illness.
Maybe, with the excitement too much for her, he surprised her with flowers, candy, something sexy to wear, perfume, and/or jewelry, and a romantic card on the day of love she died, Valentine's Day. Maybe, as she'd liked to believe with her romantic heart, with the both of them so in love, they made love longer and more passionately than they should have had at their age. Maybe while he was inside of her and making love to her before fucking her a little too hard, she died of a heart attack or a cerebral hemorrhage while making love on Valentine's Day. Now, the reason for his daily devotion, his daily visits, and playing love songs, she imagined he felt as guilty as he was directly or indirectly responsible for her death and untimely demise by loving her too much.
'Wow,' thought Susan to herself while swooning with the romantic albeit deadly thought of Mary dying on Valentine's Day. 'What a way to go? To die while making love on Valentine's Day, how cool is that? With her never thinking about her death and how she'd like to die, if she was given the choice, to die while making love on Valentine's Day is how she'd like to die too.'
If she had a choice of how she'd die, with Ray Charles singing "I Can't Stop Loving You," in the background, she'd want to die naked in bed and in the arms of her lover on Valentine's Day. As if she was Lady Gaga in American Horror Story Hotel, how lovingly romantic to put a loving spin on something as horribly tragic as death. Only, no doubt, her lover may not have the same romantic fantasy of her dying in his arms while having sex. Yet, combining the pleasure of love with the tragedy of death, dying while making love was now her latest sexual fantasy to have nonetheless. With her having no one in her life and with apologies to no one, she was allowed that sexual fantasy or any other sexual fantasy that she wanted to have.
Yet, rearing its ugly head with fraught to frighten her fiction and fantasy with fact, reality was always there to ruin her sexual fantasy. In fiction, as her sexual fantasy, she'd love to die in her lover's arms on Valentine's Day. In reality a deceased person loses all of their muscle control and bodily fluids. Spoiling her sexual fantasy, unless the person was into scat, shit play, golden showers, and/or pee play, she knew her fantasy of dying while making love wasn't a realistic one or even an attractive choice. Ruining the image with revulsion, dying while making love could be a very smelly experience and a disgusting proposition.
Moreover, with her dead in her lover's arms on Valentine's Day, unless the person was a necrophiliac and into necrophilia, having sex with a corpse was nasty. With her giving him too much of a dose of reality by dying while making love on the day of love, Valentine's Day, how could she leave her lover with such a mess? There's nothing worse than the mess that a postmortem body makes. With her losing much of her bodily fluids and stinking up the whole house, he'd have to fumigate and deodorize the whole house, toss out the mattress, and burn the pillows and the sheets. For sure, not something she'd like to leave her lover to remember her by, that's not an image she'd like to leave him or anyone at all.
To be continued...
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