1. The Plumber's Daughter


    Date: 8/17/2015, Categories: Fiction, Blowjob, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Romance, Author: beagle9690, Rating: 88.6, Source: sexstories.com

    him standing there, I wished that Patrick would just hold me and tell me everything will be all right. He surprised me again, and I was thinking, “Who are you, my Blue Knight?” “Do you want me to hold you when you cry? Or would you like to be alone?” and with that he stood up and pulled me close to him putting my head on his shoulder and I let him, relaxing in his strong arms, “I don’t know what’s bothering you, but I promise, everything will turn out fine.” I finally gave in to myself, as my sobs wracked my body as he held me gently but firmly for a long overdue cry….. It was after dark when I awoke here for the second time. The clock on the dresser said 9:00 PM. I was absolutely drained and exhausted after that good cry. I remembered Patrick carried me to the bedroom suggesting that I rest and collect my thoughts. I needed that sleep. The look on his face told me that the suggestion was not up for discussion. My Dad gave me such looks. I woke up refreshed, as if a burden was lifted from my soul. Everything was going to be all right. I could smell potatoes frying however not just any potatoes. They were potatoes with green peppers and onions. Just like my Dad used to make every Sunday morning. I was absolutely starving and my mouth was watering for a big plate of them. I wondered if he had any Tabasco Sauce. I went into the bathroom to wash up and comb my hair before joining him in the kitchen. I sat at the table watching him cook. He was quiet as he moved about the kitchen ...
    looking at me occasionally and smiling. I noticed then that he has dimples in his cheeks. Patrick was quiet and thoughtful during dinner. I was pretty much the same. It wasn’t a strained silence it was actually quite peaceful....a truce. But what a wonderful meal it was. In addition to those delicious potatoes we had thick cut fried pork chops and I ate two. We also had freshly sliced tomatoes and green beans. It was a simple, hearty meal and skillfully prepared. Obviously as a widower, Patrick wasn’t helpless in the kitchen. After dinner he got up from the table and suggested, “Coffee will be nice,” and then went outside and sat on the front porch. He left me with the dirty dishes to wash and food to be put away. I sat for a minute, smiling, remembering that I used to have a housekeeper for such mundane things. After I cleaned the kitchen, I joined him on the porch swing bringing out two cups and the coffee pot. I poured his coffee into a large brown earth ware mug that I knew to be his. It was the only mismatched mug in the cupboard of small matching cups, dishes and bowls of the same pattern. We sat together and sipped our coffee and watching the fireflies. When it started to get chilly he was ready for that. There was a large patchwork quilt folded on a small table next to him. Patrick pulled me close to him and covered us both. I knew he was waiting for me to speak, just as I knew that he had claimed me to be his woman with my temper and all. I snuggled up to him feeling ...
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