I paused to wipe my feet on the mat. Her voice was a bit muffled, and I wondered if she had her head in the fridge or something. ‘You can hang your coat on the hook by the door and come help me.’ Direct and to the point. Just like our chats. I did as instructed, and then took my shoes off, an old habit from when I lived in Japan. I padded across the room, and turned into the kitchen. She was poised over the oven door, her blonde hair falling down framing her face, about 5′ 8′, with nice curves — and she was supported by two arm crutches. Her feet were at odd angles, and her mouth had a slight droop. ‘Don’t just stand there, get the lasagna out of the oven before it burns to a crisp!’ And I did what I do, reflexively — moved to fix it. I chuckled — ‘Potholders! Where are the potholders?’ She tossed me a couple of towels, which I folded up into squares to grab the bubbling-hot Pyrex dish, which I set on the stove. ‘Just in a nick of time — another Super Power!’ She extended a hand.. “i’m just feeling my oats, again” i grinned. We had a great weekend. Over the next several weeks, i saw margaret at least once a week, and we made love in almost every conceivable position, just like teenagers. I even tried anal sex with her, and though she was very tight, she was willing. Her pussy was also tighter than my wife’s, and fucking her was like fucking a teenager. I used my fingers to explore her ass, and finally got it stretched enough that when i was well lubed, i could penetrate her rectum, and she said she loved the feeling, she had an orgasm while i was butt fucking her, and that only enhanced my own climax. Meanwhile, i was making love to my wife at least once, and sometimes twice, per week. Each time seemed to be more passionate than the last. We had not had sex like this since our first year of marriage. She seemed curious about my newly aroused libido, but accepted the fact that i was just hitting a new stride. Margaret was an incredible lover. She would do.
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