Dinner had been fabulous and the conversation light and fun. In fact, for one of the first times since his wife had passed away, Brent felt happy.

He and Stephanie had known each other for years, but they had barely seen each other in the long months since they had both been widowed. But tonight, those thoughts were set aside and they just enjoyed one another's company. But then there was a brief lull in the conversation...

 “So, are you any good at sex?” Stephanie asked. 

 The question was simple and direct, but it caught Brett off guard. 

“Well,” he said, leaving a long, pregnant, and awkward pause. “I guess that depends.” 

“On what?” she probed, refusing to let him off the hook. 

“Well, on a lot of things. Damn, this conversation has taken a turn,” he commented trying to steer things in another direction. 

“Fair point,” Stephanie said, “But why the hell is it so difficult to talk about sex? I mean, the way my friends act around me you would swear that when Bob died, I took a vow of chastity and moved into a convent. God forbid they even bring up the topic around me. To be clear, I loved sex. I mean, I still do. At least, when given the chance. Jesus Christ, my husband died, not my libido.”  

The bluntness of her rant momentarily stunned him, but when he thought for a moment, he realized that she was right. Since Sharon had died nine months earlier it seemed like a lot of the racy banter that the two of them had enjoyed with their friends had disappeared.   

“Huh. I hadn’t even stopped to notice. But you’re right. It’s just another layer of that fucking emotional bubble wrap that people seem to have put around me. I might as well have a stamp on my forehead that says ‘Fragile,” he mused. 

 “Fine then. We agree that this subtle form of enforced chastity is bullshit. So, answer the question. Are you any good at sex?” Stephanie asked again. 

 Brent frowned, took another sip of his Manhattan, and let out a long, slow breath before answering. 

 “I am. I mean, I guess I was,” he said, blushing. “Look Sharon and I got married very young. Neither one of us had much of a clue about sex, but we put our minds to learning everything we could about it. And along the way, I got very - VERY - good at sex. With her. At least she used to say so. But to be bluntly honest, she is the only woman I ever gave an orgasm. So, I was good at sex with her, but I have no clue if anyone else would consider me good at it,” he said, gazing at the floor, hoping she didn’t see the flush in his cheeks. 

 It was Steph’s turn to be taken aback. “Wow. Okay then. Well, I guess candor isn’t dead after all,” she replied. And then the room went silent. 

 After a pause that seemed to last far too long, Stephanie excused herself and Brent was left to his own thoughts. His mind wandered back to his life with Sharon, the feel of her full, heavy breasts, the way her nipples grew rock hard at the slightest touch, and the intoxicating scent of her sex when she was turned on. God, he missed all of that. She had been gone for nine months, but the cancer stole their sex life nearly two years before her passing. Since then, he had had nothing but a passionate affair with his right hand while in the shower. Even that made him feel like he had been cheating. 

 His musing was cut short when Steph draped her bra across the arm of the couch on which he was sitting. He looked up to find her wrapped in a silk kimono that fell halfway down her thighs. 

 “Shall we find out?” she asked in a whisper. The question hung in the air as Brent struggled to process it. “Shall we find out if you’re any good at sex?” she clarified. The moment he put his hand in hers his heart began to pound in his chest.  

 When they reached the foot of her bed, Brent reached out tentatively to touch her cheek, his shaking hand betrayed his nervousness and excitement. 

 “Oh God, Brent, I didn’t mean to…I mean…just relax. Look, we’re grown-ass adults, we deserve this.  And, truth be told, other than some clumsy wrestling matches in the back seats of cars with some high school boys, I don’t have a sexual resume much longer than yours. Now that I think about it, Jim is the only guy I ever got off – well, unless you count my prom date who came in his pants.” 

 The joke/revelation broke the ice and they both laughed and relaxed a bit Then the room got very quiet. They stood gazing into each other's eyes for more than a minute, just breathing while nothing but their fingertips touched. 

 Finally, Brent leaned in just close enough that his lips brushed hers - but just barely. It hardly even qualified as a kiss. He retreated an inch or two while each of them processed the feeling for a couple of beats and then repeated the process, this time with a bit more urgency.  

 Brent listened carefully for the expected alarm bell in his head. The one that would warn him that he was being unfaithful, but it never rang. Emboldened, he moved his hands upward, gently cupping Stephanie’s silk-clad breasts in the palms of his hands, savoring the feel of her, soft, warm globes. Growing bolder, he skimmed his thumbs over her nipples and was delighted when they sprang to life. He was even happier that his cock responded in kind when she brushed her fingers across his crotch. 

 He shuddered slightly when she grasped his shaft through his pants and gave it a squeeze. “I’m afraid I’m going to end up like your prom date,” he said, only half kidding. 

 “Don’t you fucking dare,” Stephanie replied. She wasn’t kidding.  

 The two began kissing more passionately and Stephanie’s hands began working desperately to undo his belt. Frustrated at the slow rate of progress she pushed Brent onto the bed and set about removing his shoes, tossing them across the room and then yanking his pants off. She felt a trickle of wetness slide down her leg as she gazed at the way his erection tented his boxers, leaving a growing wet spot on the front. She was tempted to remove that barrier too but instead took a step back and let the kimono slide from her shoulders. She reveled in the way that his eyes filled with lust as he watched her run her hands up her naked torso, fingers dragging through her bush and then moving upward to cup her breasts. 

 “You still haven’t answered my question,” she said. 

 “I’ve been thinking about how to properly answer that,” he said, extending a hand to her and pulling her down on the bed beside him. 

 Indeed, he had. From the moment that she had led him into the bedroom,I he had been frantically trying to remember how to have sex. Suddenly feeling pressure to perform he ran through his mental catalog of things that Sharon had enjoyed: his head was filled with visions of his hands squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples, stroking her wetness, pinching her clit – but that was Sharon. What if Steph needed something different?  

 Stephanie didn’t notice his moment of doubt, because she was dealing with her own.  

In actuality, her bravado was false. She almost hadn’t been able to go through with her attempt to seduce him. However, emboldened by half a bottle of wine and spurred on by the ache deep inside her cunt she took the plunge. Now she was starting to regret having done so. What if her own limited sexual repertoire t wasn’t enough for him? What if the answer to the question was that SHE wasn’t very good at sex?  

But now, laying beside each other, naked, the self-doubts disappeared from both of their minds. Barriers built by years of frustration, sorrow, fear and a raft of other negative emotions were instantaneously shattered by pure lust. 

Hands roamed, grabbed, caressed, stroked, and probed and the air was filled with a chorus of gasps, grunts, and sighs. They writhed on the bed each trying to maximize the amount of skin-to-skin contact at any given moment. They embraced each other so tightly that it bordered on violence. Their kisses were sloppy and passionate. 

As they broke one of those kisses, they found themselves breathless and laughing at the ridiculousness of the moment, behaving like a couple of horny teenagers desperate to try out every move they had read in a romance novel or seen on PornHub. 

As their chuckles subsided, Brett moved on top of her, his stiff cock coming to rest in her nest of pubic curls. They locked eyes for several seconds and then Stephanie gave the slightest nod At that, Brent dragged his cock downward through the soft curls of her pubic hair. She shuddered as the head of his cock brushed her swollen clit and then slid along her warm, wet lips. He paused there, gazing into her eyes, waiting for another signal. This time, instead of nodding her head she rocked her hips ever so slightly, just enough that his swollen head slipped between her lips. Needing no further encouragement, he slid his length into her in a single, slow, thrust. 

Stephanie let out a long moan as he burrowed inside of her, followed by a small yelp when he bottomed out at her cervix. He was bigger than she expected. Or perhaps it had been so long since she had welcomed a man into her that her perception was skewed. Either way, it felt amazing. 

For his part, Brent marveled at the sensations created by her warm, wet, and welcoming flesh. It was like coming home. He let out a low, quiet moan that was at once primal and a little sad. 

They lay like that for a few seconds and then any semblance of lovemaking ended, and pure, primal fucking ensued. 

Brent began thrusting harder and deeper, literally spurred on by Steph’s feet, which hammered into his back and ass urging him to go ever deeper. The sounds of flesh slapping together and the musky smell of sex quickly filled the air. The sheets were soon soaked, but neither cared.  

At some point, neither quite recalled when, Brent pulled out, rolled Steph on her side and plunged into her again from behind, now hammering against her g-spot with each thrust while he pinched and stroked her clit.  

Steph could take no more. She shook and moaned and saw nothing but colors before her eyes as her orgasm overwhelmed her. In the midst of it, she was aware of a roar from Brent and then the sensation of his cock pulsing deep within her as he too succumbed.  

The two lay on the bed, panting from the exertion and processing what had just happened. After a few moments, Brent carefully withdrew from her and rolled onto his back. Steph nestled up against him and rested her head on his shoulders as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

“Well,” she finally said. “I guess that answers that!” 

They both laughed until tears rolled down their cheeks. 

“Perhaps,” said Bret once he regained his composure. “But, just to be sure, would you like to try again in the morning?” 

“Yes,” was all she said.