In the afterglow of a successful singing and writing career, Amber Curtis looks back on a full and filling life. The only thing missing on her 100th birthday is her husband. Bruce. Or is he?
“There…oh, Bruce…yes. Right there. Oh God, Bruce. Oh-h-h-h.”
“Oh yeah. Amber, Amber, baby, come with me, come with me baby. I love you so much.”
Sweat slicked from a marathon love session Amber grasped her husband’s buttocks, squeezing and kneading his well-formed posterior while her vagina clenched around his cock.
Lifting her thighs to draw him deeper inside of her she hissed as the pleasure of an orgasm rode threw her.
The satiny smooth slide of his chest against her breasts sent a thrill of desire and sheer bliss from top to toes. How she loved to feel him nestled between her thighs and the pleasant weight of his body on top of hers. The romance novels she kept hidden between her mattress and box spring had nothing on what she shared with Bruce. Bruce Curtis was the only man for her. She knew it in kindergarten on the playground when he snuck that quick little kiss on her cheek—something she’d be appalled by if some boy did it to one of her daughters!
She knew it in junior high when he asked her to her first dance. There was no doubt in high school when Regina, aka Queenie, Taehlor formed their girl band, the Four Cups that this was the only man she could and would ever want to be with. He was the inspiration for every love song she ever wrote and the hero of every one of her romance novels.
And that was before she sampled sex. Only sex with Bruce wasn’t just sex. It was the pinnacle of existence. The be all and end all of what life was about. She didn’t need to try out other men to know Bruce was all she’d ever want. He was her forever guy.
Even their first time, the night of her eighteenth birthday—just so the consummation of their love was all legit and legal—was sublime. Of course, it hurt a little bit that first time. In Bruce’s case the theory of big feet and big hands meaning a big other part held quite firm.
Amber giggled to herself. Bruce was definitely…firm…in all the right places. She couldn’t remember a time he wasn’t in her life and they weren’t in love.
Amber climaxed again and this time Bruce came with her. The couple joined in a shuddering climax.
“Who would have thought after this many years making love you would still get better and better?”
Amber threaded her fingers through the now sparse, gray hair on her husband’s head.
Sparse?
Gray?
Wait…they had been on a beach. Making love in a secluded alcove. It was the night after the Four Cups’ show in Hawaii that coincided with their anniversary, before a sell out crowd. They’d done four encores that lasted almost as long as the main show. She and Bruce stole away moments after the show ended.
So why did he now look so old?
Amber turned to look at her husband again and sighed in relief. There he was, a buff twenty-something with a killer smile. A woman hadn’t been born who didn’t turn to look at that fine physique of his. He ran every morning, lifted weights every day and they made love every night.
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