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A Neighbor's Gift


A Neighbor's Gift {Redman} {MF Rom}
(c) December 2000
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A Neighbor's Gift
by Redman
The Christmas season was slow at my company, so I took
off some time before the holidays. I have plenty of
vacation days left that won't roll over. Use `em or
lose `em.

Our long-time next door neighbor was dying of ovarian
cancer. Angela was just a couple of years older than
my wife and I. She was diagnosed about six months ago
and under chemotherapy she went from a lovely, vital
woman to a very sick shut-in almost overnight.

My wife had volunteered me to take her lunch on the
days I was off. Normally I don't like to be around
sick people, but Angela was special. We used to be
friends with her and her husband, Raymond. I never did
like him much, but Angela and I had flirted with
one another a lot, until it started to get serious.
Neither one of us had wanted to ruin the other's
marriage, so we cooled it off by mutual agreement.
Our marriage lasted. Angela's didn't.

But there was a part of me that would always love
Angela. She was an easy person to love. She was short,
vivacious and athletic. Angela was a social worker and
she was always perceptive about people and their
needs. She had small breasts and a very pretty bottom,
dark hair and a dark complexion. She looked good in
shorts and a halter. Once she modeled a thin negligee
for me. That was the day we came too close to
consummating our flirtation.

Now she had a nursing assistant who came over every
morning to check on her. There was also a cleaning
lady who came every other day. I called a little after
ten and asked her when she wanted lunch. She told me
to come by any time, so we agreed on eleven.

My wife had made some soup and a casserole. Since all
I had to do was heat it up, I decided to do that at
Angela's. I hoped it would give us something else to
talk about other than her illness. So at eleven I
brought the food over and rang her doorbell. Angela
called out to tell me to come in.

She was lying on the couch. Angela was wearing a satin
housecoat and had a quilt pulled up to knees. She
looked pale. She had lost weight, which was a real
problem since she had always been a slender woman. She
had had a hysterectomy four months ago, but the cancer
had already spread to her lymph nodes. The chemo
hadn't helped. Her prognosis was now only a month or
two. Maybe until the first of the year. Maybe not.
Angela was struggling to stay home as long as she
could. It was a struggle that everyone knew she
couldn't win.

After I had set down the food in the kitchen, I came
back to the living room where Angela was. She had
struggled to her feet and I met her two steps from the
couch and just hugged her and held her for a while. It
was the first chance I had had to be alone with her
since the diagnosis. She seemed so frail in my arms.
She tried to hold me tight, but she had no strength.
I kissed her on her thinning hair and held her for as
long as she wanted to be held.

"I'm tired now, T__," she said in a soft voice. "Can we
sit a while?"

"Sure, Angela, for as long as you want," I told her as
I helped her ease down onto the couch. "Are you hungry
yet? We have soup and casserole on the menu."

"No, I'm more lonely than hungry. Would you mind just
holding me some more?"

"No Angela, I wouldn't mind doing that at all. I have
all day if you need me. Just let me know if you need

She lay her head on my shoulder and I held her without
speaking for the longest while.

"Hope," she finally whispered.

I had been a little lost in the memories of our past
and feeling sad for her, so I missed the obvious


"I need hope, T__, but that's something you can't give
me. I've run out of hopes, false and real, at this
point. So instead, just let me hold you and dream that
we ended up together and happy somehow and that
everything is fine right now. Would you mind doing
that for me?"

As soon as I could speak without choking up I answered
her, "Sure Angela. I've been thinking 'what if' all day

"I never wanted to break up you and M__," Angela
pondered aloud, "but I've often thought about what it
would have been like if it had been you and I

"I would have tried to be a good husband to you,
Angela. I probably would have unless some sexy
neighbor moved in next door."

"No, even then you would have only flirted with her.
You would have still been faithful to me. I know you."

She wanted dreams. Luckily I had a few to share. I had
been writing a series on domestic love about an older
married couple, erotic stories that I post on the
Internet. Maybe Angela wanted to hear a couple of

"Would you like me to tell you what we'd be like after
we'd been married a long time, Angela?"

"Yes, that's just what I want. Tell me a story about
what it would be like living with you."

"Well, I'd come home in the afternoon and you'd be
cooking red beans and rice on the stove. It's just you
and me in the house and I can smell your cooking from
the doorway. I can smell you, too. Our whole house
smells like you and it makes me so glad to finally be
at home with my wife."

"That's nice," Angela whispered in a faint, wispy
voice. "I don't want to ever work again. I'm tired of
working, T__. And no kids, either, darling. I want to
spend all of my time with you. Is that all right with
you, dear?"

"That's fine with me, dear. I'd like to have a
beautiful wife like you waiting for me to come home
every day. I'd rush home every day if that were that

"I'd give you anything you wanted," Angela said
excitedly and then she started to cough. I held her
tightly until the spasms stopped. She moaned and when
she did her lungs sounded wet, her breathing halting
and irregular.

"I'm okay now. Go ahead and tell the story. I'll just
listen for a while," Angela said weakly.

"Sure, honey. I came home to find you cooking at the
stove. When I see you in the kitchen, you're wearing
nothing but an apron and a smile, just the way I like

Angela smiled and snuggled against my chest. She
shivered a little so I covered her up with the
blanket, pulling it over me too in order to cover her
up completely.

"I try to sneak up behind you, but you hear me, like
you always do. Even so, I'm close enough that I get to
hold you from behind and press myself into that soft,
beautiful bottom of yours."

"Just remember I'm a lot shorter," Angela chuckled and
then coughed just a little.

"Hey, you can tell the next one. Now just listen." I
squeezed her shoulders and I felt her smile against my
chest. "I kiss the nape of your neck and I hold you
very tight and tell you how glad I am to come home to
a naked woman. You smell fresh and clean and I can
smell our special perfume on you. It's the perfume I
gave you for our anniversary. Do you remember it?"

"Yes," she whispered softly. "You call it, 'the fuck-me

She giggled just a bit when she saw that she had
startled me. I'd never heard Angela use such
expressive language. I guess so near the end, we say
what we feel. It let me know how far she wanted me to
take this story. I had been wondering about that.

"Yes, that's the one, darling. The 'fuck-me perfume.'
You wear it because you know it excites me. There's
some in your hair and behind your ear. I'm interested
in finding out where else you might have put some."

Angela liked that. She unbuttoned one of the buttons
on my shirt and slipped her hand inside to touch my
chest lightly. Even though she was sick and weak, just
that simple contact excited me.

"I run my hands under the apron and cup both of your
breasts as you stir the red beans. You begin to tell
me about your day, but it's hard for you to
concentrate with my hands on you like that."

"Are they too small? My breasts?" Angela asked meekly.
"Do you wish my breasts were bigger?"

"Never, dear. You know how much I love to hold them
and kiss them. I'd stay here all day at the stove just
hugging you and holding your breasts if that's what
you wanted."

"No," she said softly. "I want more."

"I thought you did," I said just as softly. "When I
reached down with one hand, you were as warm as I had
ever felt you." Angela's hand caressed me softly. She
moaned against my chest. "When I pressed a finger
between your lips, you were very wet, my dear."

Again she moaned. Only this time I could tell it was
just to encourage me to tell more.

"That's one of the things I've always loved about you,
Angela. Ever since we were married, you're always
ready for me when I need you. Other men fuss about
their wives. They say they have headaches. It always
seems to me that you're ready all the time. Every time
I touch you, you're wet and ready."

Angela sighed against me contentedly. For just a
moment I wondered what I was doing telling erotic
stories to a dying woman. But then again, she seemed
happier than any time since I had walked in the door.
And she seemed a little stronger, too.

"As you stir the red beans, I stir my fingers in you.
One hand is stirring your breast, rubbing the nipple,
cupping your warm breast and holding it firmly. The
other hand is stirring the lips of your vagina,
pressing slightly into your furrow, tasting your
moisture. My thumb is brushing your mound, Angela,
playing through your lovely sparse hair."

"It used to be thicker," she giggled, "before they
shaved it."

"Ah, but I make you thin it out because I love to see
your flesh through it. We keep it trimmed back nice
and pretty, don't we?"

"You're such a good husband to help. Or it is because
you're such a pervert?" she chuckled.

"No, I'm just addicted to every part of you. I love
the way you smell and I love the way you taste. Every
part of you. I'd spend hours looking at you, touching
you, licking you."

"Let's move away from the stove. It's getting pretty
warm in here."

"That's my thoughts as well, Angela. You put the red
beans and rice aside while I rush to the bedroom and
throw off my clothes. When you come into the room, I
laugh because you've left your apron in the kitchen.
I was all set to chew it off of you with my teeth."

"You'll have to find something else to chew."

"I'll have to find a whole meal to eat, because I'm
hungry for you. I pick you up and throw you on the bed
and watch you bounce delightfully until you settle
down. And then I'm right on you, between your thighs
and spreading you out, my dear. You smell so lovely,
I think I've found another perfume spot, haven't I?"

"Oh yes," she said wistfully, almost sadly. "I've
wanted you between my legs forever."

I almost choked up, but instead, I used it in the story.

"I know it's seemed like forever since I left this
morning, but I'm here now, home with my wife. I spread
you out like a luscious meal and feast on you, my
dear. You taste delicious darling, just like always."

"You really like the taste?" she questioned. When I
nodded so emphatically she laughed. "Then I really did
miss something. I've only had half-hearted lovers."

"Well not anymore, dearest. I'd stay in your lap all
day if you let me, darling. In fact, you're so warm
and wet by now, that just by kissing and nibbling and
licking your clitoris, I bring you to your first
orgasm easily."

"My first? There's more?"

"Oh yes, darling. We've just started. We've got all

"Are you hard, T__?" Angela asked with a sense of
wonder in her voice. I don't know how she could have
missed it. My penis had been straining my pants for
quite a while now. "Can I see it? Please, let me
touch you!"

"I don't know, Angela. That's very close to crossing
a line."

"T__, they cut out most of my female parts, so we
can't go any farther. But, they're still giving me
these damn estrogen shots. I still feel like a woman,
T__. I can't do anything for you. I'm too weak. But I
want to feel a man one last time, to hold you and
smell what a man smells like again. I want to really
feel like a woman one last time before I die."

So she lay on the couch on her side. I took my clothes
off and lay next to her. She pressed her warm cheek
against my hard penis, nuzzling it, smelling deeply of
my aroma. She seemed content just to hold it in her
frail hands against her face. She didn't let me
continue with the story. No doubt, in her mind, she
was making up her own.

After a while, I sensed her breathing alter, becoming
more rhythmic. Angela had tired herself out and fallen
asleep. Her warm breath against my penis kept me hard
for a while longer, but gradually it began to soften
as I lay there and began to cry.

I wondered if she would last until Christmas. I wished
I could give her more.


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