Is proud to present
Blurb
For thirty-seven
years, Max has been a devoted, loving husband. When Rosie is dying of
Alzheimer's, he has been her primary care giver until he agrees to his daughter
Leah's insistence that they hire a live-in nurse. Robin is not only a competent
nurse, she is also beautiful and sexy and Max finds himself increasingly
desiring her and feeling guilty. He doesn't want to betray his marriage vows.
Robin also finds herself falling in love
with Max, but she is also resisting letting anything happen. Even though, Rosie
no longer recognizes Max, he remains devoted to her, but also dreads the
thought of Robin leaving once his wife dies. When she dies, Robin's job as a nurse is over. She is also dreading
leaving. While Max is watching her
reluctantly packing, he doesn't know how to prevent the inevitable until
Excerpt
The
shrill sound of the teakettle shattered Max’s reverie. He was remembering when
he and Rosie met thirty-eight years ago. He sighed deeply, looked down at the
yellow mug and remembered the vision of the two of them rowing down the Charles
River that May morning. It was the night after their first date, the first of
many, before shocking everyone they knew and getting married one April weekend
while still in their senior year of college. He had been attending Harvard and
she was at Radcliffe, a few years after the two colleges had begun sharing
courses. He often remembered Rosie walking in on the first day of their Chaucer
course. She had stood at the doorway and looked around the crowded room for a
seat. He was immediately captivated by her pretty, oval-shaped face, high
cheekbones, and the serious intensity in her eyes as she scanned the crowded
room, then the delighted, almost childlike smile when she saw the empty chair
next to him.
She’d asked him if
he minded her sitting there and he’d turned and looked around the room. “Well,
there aren’t any other seats in the room, so I guess it’s okay.”
He
could still see the waly she looked with her thick, bushy brown hair and
horn-rimmed glasses, an appearance so unlike most of the other women with their
long straight hair, tailored clothes, aristocratic air, who looked as if they
had just stepped out of an advertisement in Seventeen or Glamour. She was
wearing a long flowery skirt that came below her knees and a baggy green
turtleneck sweater, several rows of a beaded necklace and sandals.
He was struck by
how different she looked, more bohemian than Ivy League, and when she sat down
next to him, his heart leaped in a way that surprised him, having no idea at
the time where that moment would lead.
Max poured the water into Rosie’s
yellow mug. He glanced over at her as she sat at the kitchen table, staring out
the window, her chin resting on her hand. He wondered what she could be
thinking about, what she was trying to remember, now that memories were
disappearing into the fog of her Alzheimer’s. Dipping the Earl Grey teabag into
the mug, he watched the water turn bronze-colored, knowing how strong she liked
her tea and how long the bag had to steep before it was just right. Stirring in
a little honey, he heard the little ping of the toaster-oven and noticed the
orange light go out then reached for the rye toast Rosie loved. He placed it on
the plate with the blue lily enameled in the center. He made sure he served the
rye toast on the same plate every time because of the way it made her smile.
She
always said, “Ah, my favorite dish.” He liked it when she remembered little
things like that. He had brought out the raspberry jam and now he spread it on
the toast. This was their four o’clock ritual—tea and rye toast with raspberry
jam.
Adult
excerpt
“I
hate packing,” she said and stood in the middle of the room holding the green
tank top he liked.
Max
was quiet and noticed she seemed upset. He didn't say anything and was
surprised when she sat down on her bed and looked down at her lap and started
to cry. She looked up at him in the doorway.
“Max.
I don't want to leave.”
When
he saw the tears in her eyes, he was bewildered but also unable to move.
Suddenly,
she came to him and put her arms around him. He immediately held her and felt
the strength of her arms and her breasts against his chest and before he knew
it, they were kissing. It was all so sudden, but Max's sadness suddenly became
passion and all that he had been resisting swelled and became his embrace, and
his lips said more than he could have ever expressed in words.
They
pulled their mouths apart with a gasp for air. They gazed into each other's
eyes realizing they had crossed a threshold.
“I
don't want to go,” she said through trembling lips.
“I
want you to stay,” he responded. “Please stay.”
They
kissed again, harder, more passionately and somehow stumbled to the bed and
fell onto it. Their kissing became wilder as if unleashing unspoken feelings
that had been building for months but could not be released while Rosie was
still alive. Max lay between Robin's legs that were wrapped around him, pulling
him against her pussy, and he wanted her like he had never wanted anything
more. The last few years of Rosie's fading from his life and his growing desire
for Robin had taken all of his strength to resist but now poured out of him in
a torrent of passion.
When
he rolled off her and pulled off his jeans and gray sweatshirt, Robin squirmed
out of her yoga pants. She smiled up at Max while he reached for her white
panties, pulled them down her legs then from her bare feet and tossed them over
his shoulder. Realizing it had been at least two years since Robin had made
love, he fell back into her arms and gently entered her, feeling her tightness
but soon was thrusting deep into her warm wetness and loving the soft
whimpering sounds she made as they made love for the first time. They kissed
and he reveled in the feeling of their tongues and their bodies moving slowly
at first then faster and harder until he felt her tensing, trembling and
screaming, “Oh my God. Oh yes. Oh my God…oh, I love you. I love you. I love
you.”
Her
words filled Max with the urge to thrust harder and harder. His cock swelled
and his legs stiffened. Her hands on his ass pulled him deeper into her and her
pussy squeezed his cock and brought him to an overwhelming orgasm that erupted
in gushes that filled her overflowing pussy and dripped onto her thighs. He
writhed before collapsing on her, unable to budge as they both wallowed in the
warm afterglow.
After
a few moments, Max lifted his head and gazed into Robin's smiling eyes. No
words were needed. He kissed her, then slid onto his back, gathered her into
his arms and loved the smell of her hair as she laid her head on his shoulder.
“I'm
happy,” she said softly.
“I
am, too.”
Bio for J.E. Wiseman
J.E. Wiseman is a prolific author of erotica and romance who
has lived an adventurous life as a merchant seaman, teacher, farmer and baker.
He started writing poetry and stories when he was nine and is now widely
published. His many books are filled with keen observations and provocative
ideas that explore the hidden needs and desires of intriguing characters. After living in the woods in an off-the grid
cabin for twelve years where he grew most of his own food, he is now living in
a small pentagon shaped cabin overlooking a trout pond where he writes every
morning beginning at four o' clock.
Asomething amazing happens that changes both of their lives.
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