Falling for Love

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I read The William Golding story Pincher Martin a long time ago. It stuck in my mind. Spoiler alert: I borrowed the Pincher Martin structure. I just wish I had his ability to write excellent prose. But, there again, how many of you know that story? I can recommend it. This story could also have been slotted into Incest/Taboo category, but I chose to put in under Mature. The story is solely a product of my imagination (with a tip of my hat to Golding). Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.




My life changed irrevocably five years ago on October 21st. My wife, Sue, died in a tragic accident.

Sue and I had been married 40 years. We married too young we were told. As high school sweethearts, Sue was 19 and I was 20, in my first job as a Bank Management trainee.

It was no surprise, in retrospect, that Sue was pregnant. By a cruel stroke Sue incurred a devastating infection late in her pregnancy that not only killed the fetus but left Sue sterile as well. It took a while for us to recover from the blow. We were young, resilient and still very much in love.

We embraced our sexual side before our marriage and it picked up again once Sue’s body had recovered. She applied to college and went on to become a schoolteacher. Sue claimed over one hundred children a year as her family. My father gave us a sizable down payment on a house and we moved into a new subdivision on the edge of town.

Our new neighbors on one side were slightly older than us and already had a young family. We became fast friends and like family to all of them, including the children. The kids were in our place all the time, and we holidayed together.

They had three daughters and a son, who are now all married and with some children themselves. Shortly after their youngest one was born the parents tragically died in boating accident when their small sailing dingy was caught in a viscous squall.

The only sibling of the parents, and the only living relative, lived on the other coast and rarely had seen the children. Over the course of a year, with innumerable agencies, the courts and lawyers involved the estate of the children was settled on the children with us as executors.

We further arranged to take the children in as our own instant family. The transition was smooth and everyone considered it the best possible outcome for the children. Sue and I were delighted in spite of the radical change to our lifestyle. We had our family. The children grew up balanced.

Sue retired as a schoolteacher and I retired as a senior manager at a bank at almost the same time. I was packaged out at 60 due to reorganization. Sue took retirement at the same time. Financially we could manage well, providing we were not too extravagant.

After overcoming the initial shock of retirement with the freedom to come and go as we pleased we jointly settled down to travel, and developed our own interests. Sue became an ardent gardener and member of various horticulture organizations in the area. She quickly found herself on the board of two of these groups.

I revived my childhood interest and latent talent in painting. I took numerous courses and found I had a particular flair for portraiture and loved the limited exposure I had to life drawing and painting. Landscapes were not my milieu. I mainly painted in oils.

We walked a lot together, enjoyed eating out regularly, and drank the occasional bottle of wine, and a scotch nightcap most nights. We laughed a lot and found games to play. We had dreams we never fulfilled and some we did.

Once a month to supplement our regular love making we would, on the last Friday of every month, after a bottle of wine, read out loud to each other one erotic story we had found on the internet. Such stories fueled our fantasies. We acted out a few of them as well – all as harmless fun for both of us.

We made visits to all our families.

The eldest, Jane, lived the closest, but we saw the least of her. She was always somehow remote, never being as close to us as we would have liked. She remembered her parents better than the others and was never quite reconciled to their deaths. Her husband, Phil, bored us into a stupor. In common with her parents, she had her boy and girl early, and soon as they were old enough departed around the globe.

The next daughter, Sally, 16 months younger, who lived about two hours away, became a teacher, following in Sue’s footsteps, and fitted three children into her career. We made two trips a year to see her and her youngest child, a late arrival, who was just a baby. Her husband, Dick, was into a blow-hard salesman who talked more than we cared for.

The only boy, Jim, a successful accountant, was an hour away and saw us regularly. He was the next oldest arriving two years after their second, Sally. His wife, Paula, was a real beauty and a lot of fun. Paula had aspirations for a stage career, and although she performed in a few local amateur productions, she was essentially a stay-at-home mom.

The youngest daughter, Suzanne, Escort Bayan Gaziantep we learned was a surprise and was born 7 years after her brother. She was the splitting image of Sue in spite of having no common bloodline. Without being unkind, she became the trophy wife of a rich mining executive, who was away a lot of the time.

They lived on a grand estate an hour drive away. She visited us regularly. We were constantly being invited over, but were uncomfortable with all her space and the conspicuous consumption thrust upon her. She was a good person still finding herself.

I thought of the family as our daughters and son. They were, but adopted.

My life all came to an abrupt end one October night three years into retirement. Sue had the final Horticulture executive meeting of the year. The forecast was for light rain. The weather turned colder than expected and after some sleet there was freezing rain. The roads became slick. A tractor-trailer jackknifed as it tried to stop and crushed my wife’s car with Sue inside it. I was just preparing for bed when a policewoman came to my door and gave me the dire news. All I remember is phoning our adopted children.

The next six months became a total blur. Our son managed all the accounting and administrative necessities. Our daughters took turns trying to console me. Our friends initially were around all the time, but with such a lack of response from me they quickly tired and the visits petered out. I took no exercise, slept fitfully and found no interest in anything, including my painting. I was depressed, but resisted taking any medication for my condition.

Bill, an acquaintance from one of my painting classes was a little more persistent. In the April after Sue’s death he badgered me to accompany him to a portrait exhibition in our nearby city – he was so terrier-like I eventually agreed to go with him. On the brilliant morning of our excursion Bill called to me to tell me he could not make it as his wife had slipped and fallen, and he was in the ER at the local hospital. I was initially relieved, but then some small voice in me insisted I go in alone. I made the journey.

A small crowd of young people identified as being from the local Art College gathered outside the gallery. They were giving away “Free Hugs”. Somehow a statuesque blond singled me out and gave me a breast-smashing hug. She was so tall her large breasts were above my chest – instinctively I reached around and squeezed her buttocks.

She pushed back a little, smiled and gave me a second hug, whispering in my ear that she needed that and thank you. All I remember of the exhibition was becoming out of breath as I mounted the various flights of stairs in the gallery. Yet something came alive in me on that visit out of town.

The excursion and the exercise gave me the first good night’s sleep since Sue’s death. I awoke realizing I needed to bring my fitness level up. So I took a walk. My first positive, self-motivated action since Sue had died. The weather held good for weeks, and each day I walked a little further until I was on the move for a full two hours.

I became obsessive about my walks. After my early morning walks, I began to read the paper again. I turned off the TV and started to read books once more. Gradually my recovery spread out to other interests. I tried to clear up the garden that was beginning to run wild, but eventually hired a local man to come by twice a week for three hours. I then returned to my painting – bad pictures of flowers from the garden. They made me cry.

Finally I was able to call the children and arranged visits. I stayed two weeks with each of the two older daughters and my son, with their families.

The visit with Jane was difficult. She was withdrawn. I was unable to draw her out. I was pleased to move on. Staying with Sally was all about the Grandchildren. It was fun as I got closer to them.

Jim was at work a lot of the time, so I ended up making visits and having fun with Paula. She flirted outrageously with me to light my spark for life. She helped make the time pass quickly, but I stuck with the schedule.

At each visit I painted the individual portraits of the whole family. Each one was well received. My final visit started in late September and was planned to run until after the anniversary of Sue’s death. Not unexpectedly, her husband was away in Australia and the Philippines for six weeks.

Suzy also had a painting talent and had formally studied art. She sat for me, and she liked how I had rendered her, but gave me a mild critique along with the praise. Suzy hugged me and then to my utter surprise kissed me full on the lips for more than a moment. She then asked me to sit for her. She did a great painting – larger than mine. We celebrated her portrait by sinking almost two bottles of wine – somehow we both sensed that the portrait was a milestone.

As we were mildly drunk she complained that she liked to paint life figures but had difficulty finding models. She lived a long way from any art college and the area was extremely conservative. She had one friend who sat topless for her, but she complained she would really like to paint a man.

I asked whether she thought her friend would sit for me. Suzy just laughed – there was no way. Somehow our wine driven conversation brought us to a point that we drunkenly agreed to pose for each other – nude.

After my morning walk and the cobwebs of the hangover were retreating, Suzy and I looked at each other in silence over morning coffee and were not sure how to approach our agreement of the previous night. Suzy jumped up as if she had made a decision and simply took robe and nightdress off.

“What do you think?” I was gob smacked. I had difficulty looking at her. At nearly 40 she retained a youthful figure.

“Haven’t seen you naked for about 30 years.” She came around to my stool took my face in her hands, looked me in the eyes from about 6 inches and said,

“Well, do you want to paint me or not?”

Over the next four days I did about twenty sketches. Suzy started walking around the house naked. I was beginning to become a little more of an artist and less of a father over these few days. I selected a pose and finally painted her in a reclining position. She loved the painting and once more laid a long warm kiss on my lips, only this time she was naked. I felt myself becoming aroused and broke off the encounter.

“OK dad. My turn at you.”

I am not sure how I managed to strip naked for Suzy. She cajoled, laughed at my embarrassment and basically used the argument about her doing it for me. She then sketched me in different positions. “Nice equipment, Dad”. I did not need such editorial comment.

The next day we drove into the local hills and had a picnic. We just walked and spoke about Sue. We picked up a large canvas at the local art store, and before going to bed Suzy simply said, “Tomorrow. Be ready.”

I went for my morning walk, showered and just put on a robe. Suzy called down for me to go to the studio and settle into the pose we had agreed. I was sitting in a comfortable armchair near a window with the sun shining in. I sat with hands on the arms and legs slightly apart. I settled in and decided to read the paper while I waited for Suzy’s arrival. The editorial caught my attention and I became vaguely aware of Suzy setting up her easel and paint palette.

“Ready?” I kept her at bay for a few more moments to finish the piece. “Dad, com’on. The light’s moving along”

I set the paper aside. Suzy was standing at the side of the canvas completely naked. My cock jumped up at the sight – she was so much like Sue.

“Wahoo, cowboy…” Her voice petered out. “I thought you might be more comfortable if I was also in the buff. “Maybe not such a good idea, or maybe it was. Glad to see the equipment still works.” I relaxed. She painted clothed for the next three mornings while the light was right.

We went out to dinner at a fancy restaurant on the anniversary of Sue’s death. We remembered her together and cried a little. I had a walk around their estate in the moonlight after dinner and Suzy disappeared to her room. I retired to bed quite early and faintly heard the grandfather clock in the hall strike eleven, midnight and one o’clock.

I then dozed off, to be woken by Suzy slipping into the bed beside me. She cuddled up to me as she did as a child. She was naked. She slipped her hand into my pajama top, loosening two buttons, and stroked my chest and my nipples. I became aroused. Her hand moved down to my penis and gently held it with a series of slow small squeezes. I became harder in spite of myself. Her hand returned to my chest and stayed there for about ten minutes. No words were spoken between us. Then she left.

The next morning my mind was in turmoil. I knew where the course of intimacy with my daughter would lead – I could not resist its pull. I decided to leave and go home. We were awkward with each other over breakfast. I told her on my decision to leave. She cried. She expressed some guilt with an undercurrent of regret that she had offended me. I tried to reassure her but could not bring myself to give her the true reason for my departure – I wanted to make love to her. She was my Sue. I departed quickly and with a righteous discomfort.

The winter passed with regular long walks, painting, watching junk on TV, and a few art related workshops. I saw the family for short visits. Suzy and I kept our distance even when we were together. Jane arranged a Christmas family get together that proved to be a mild disaster with more tension between spouses and between siblings. There was an agenda I was not privy to at that time.

I saw Bill from time to time. Some of Sue’s girlfriends came around to see if I was all right: some trying to set me up with a girlfriend and some trying to be that girlfriend. None of them interested me particularly, but they did provide me with a good stream of portrait models. The sad part of the portrait sitting was that some thought it was a form of courtship. On the positive side I was quite well fed.

I was summoned to a family conference in March. The family had decided it would be best I move into a retirement home. They had worked out that I should not worry about the financing – if necessary they would kick in funds should they be required. I told them “Nuts!” They had caught my attention about my life and an underlying loneliness that was setting in. I relented and told them I would think about it.

I started to research the idea. I heard of a new project nearby was due for announcement. It was about eighteen months away from completion. My further enquiries showed it met all the criteria I had set out for myself. I could get, for a premium, a two bedroom unit, the place was planned with nicely landscaped gardens, self-catering or catered meals, there were all the exercise facilities one could desire, and the deal allowed one’s health to deteriorate with nursing care such that one left in a box.

The cost stretched my resources, but I could just manage it. I signed on as one of the first. The family was delighted. I felt relief, and anxiety about leaving so many memories behind in the place that had been our home for so many years.

The following 18 months passed quickly. I was getting some paid commissions for my portraits. My circle of friends remained very small. The family came and went – I visited all but Suzy for short periods. Suzy dropped in on me, but we kept our contact unhealthily cool.

It was become clear that Jane’s marriage was about to break up. I slowly whittled away at the contents of the house. The three daughters came together for a visit and disposed of Sue’s remaining clothes and personal things. I was sad. I had good days and some very bad ones. The house sold quickly and for a good price due to its location. I was ready both physically and mentally for the move when the time arrived.

The residence building and grounds were as promoted. They were in a comfortable modern style and appealed to quite well heeled purchasers. Having been one of the first to buy I had a choice corner suite overlooking the gardens and a ravine on the sixth floor. The staff was professional and friendly, and the food was quite good. I settled in very quickly. From the comments from the family, I inferred a collective sigh of relief.

The place filled quickly – the units had been snapped up in just over two months I had learned. I quickly realized I was one of only five men, two the spouses of the female occupants, amongst one hundred and five women. All of us men received a lot of attention – the wave of friendliness was more of a tsunami.

I retreated to my unit and closed the door and played my music quite loudly. This was something I had not expected, and it took a while to get used to the idea. I was 66, still reasonably good-looking, single, quite fit and with funds. I had a car and could still drive. I was on a lot of lady’s guest lists. Then I realized I had a string of models for my portraits.

There were some rules about visiting stopovers, even in our own apartments, but family was always acceptable. Jane was my first visitor to stay over, and she was with me for two months. She had broken up with her husband and was in transition.

At first all the ladies in residence were clucking about this young lady who was staying with me. Fortunately the rumor network soon put it about she was my daughter on hard times. She was accepted and there were attempts to get to me through her by some of the craftier gals.

After a few days I suggested to Jane she talk to me about her situation. Slowly our conversations opened up a little. Then one day we both acknowledged we had never been close. She admitted she always saw me as an authority figure, no substitute for her own real father, and was jealous of her younger sisters getting all the attention.

I told her she always was a non-tactile kid, who shied away from cuddles and came over as aloof. We both went away and thought about each other’s perceptions. During the next conversation Jane asked me to hug her. I did and she cried on my shoulder. I rubbed her back and held her tight. There was no stirring as I had felt with Suzy. Just compassion. We stayed clutching each other for a long time, and then she kissed me on my forehead and went to her bedroom.

The next day over breakfast in the warmth of the sun in the living room she blurted out, “I had an affair”.

My reply was neutral. “If you want, you can tell me.” Jane was silent for several minutes as she debated with herself what to tell me.

“As you know I was in the PR department of a cosmetics manufacturer. We got a new hotshot boss. Very quickly he came on to me. He also pointed out that PR women had to put out to clients to be really successful. Which is absolutely BS. Of course he added he had to judge the quality of the services. He was a pig. He groped me a number of times, and was seen by someone else doing so on two occasions. I finally took a stand and told him I would report him to the CEO if he continued. The next thing I knew I was fired on a trumped up issue. I sued with the help of the witnesses to the groping, and settled out of court for a very good sum. The difficultly was that the word was out in the industry that I was a problem employee and no jobs were available wherever I applied.”

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