For the next six months, we had our little Covid sex bubble. I went to his house frequently where we did more of the delicious, pleasurable same – Negronis, cooking, eating, drinking and fucking. As the weather warmed into spring, we moved some of these activities outside. We’d take our Negronis on a stroll through his gardener-planted and maintained culinary garden. He even had the gardener add two artichoke plants because I mentioned how much I loved them.
Sometimes we’d take the Negronis to the hot tub naked. It shared a barrier wall with the infinity lap pool. To demonstrate his prowess and agility, he would get up from the hot tub, stand on the wall and launch himself into the pool to swim several laps. He would come back over to the hot tub side and give me a big self-approving smile before moving over for a kiss or two. As I sipped my Negroni, he might be rubbing my feet or telling a tall tale while I took periodic glances through the trees to the eastern mountains.
Before going back in to work on dinner, we would rinse off in his personal spa. It was structure just a few steps away from the pool with a bathroom, sauna, gym and shower with a floor to ceiling window looking north into the forest that bordered his property. In between that building, and the one next to it that housed a game room, was a pond filled with fish he named and enjoyed caring for. Beyond the structures around the pool was an outdoor grilling area complete with a large grill and separate spit where you could roast an entire pig plus outdoor wood fireplace and many lounge chairs scattered around.
Sometimes we would take our Negronis outside on the side of the house where they was a beautiful long table for outdoor eating and a wood fireplace to warm up cool evenings. Two cushioned chairs to one side of the dining table had a wood table in-between and were all placed facing the vineyards. We would nibble on cheeses, crackers and charcuterie while watching high flying birds as well as his cats chasing the low flying ones. As the months past, it was like a time-lapse video as the vines developed leaves, flowers then tiny green grapes.
During one these lovely evenings, we got to chatting about our bedroom time. Since sex was always completely naked, and much of the time before and after sex as well, I inquired if he liked lingerie and he replied very much so. He asked me to bring some, but I don’t ‘wear and share’ so implored him to buy me some new items that just he and I would enjoy together. That way he could also pick exactly what he wanted me to see me in. He said he had never bought anyone lingerie before. This was hard to believe after two wives, several girlfriends and simply being 69 years of age, but I expressed how special I felt that he would buy me some. I gave him my measurements and had nearly forgotten about the conversation when several weeks later I received a series of photos by text of some of his purchases. All of it was lacy and mostly black, but a few deep purple and light pink items. One photo he sent was of an outfit he had laid out on his bed. It was a one piece, black lacy bodysuit of sorts with attached stockings. It was terribly difficult and confusing to put on and not at all flattering with my long torso. The upper portion was strained trying to reach over my shoulders resulting in very awkward and uncomfortably tight material pulled up my nether regions. The accompaniment to this monstrosity were wired, black lace bunny ears. I couldn’t at all be serious about this outfit and casually left it to the side in preference for the solo lacy panties.
On one summer evening after perhaps one too many Negronis, he had started dinner and I snuck off to his bedroom closet where he kept a drawer for all my lingerie goodies. There was a floor length mirror in the room and I snapped photos of myself in black panties, purple then pink and texted them to him as he worked in the kitchen on the other side of the house. After that evening, he started periodically sexting me. My favorite was a bare chested snap from his bathroom which went down to just above his cock with smiling face included.
The summer was flying by, but relief from Covid was no where in sight. It was August, eight months after we first met, and I was growing very fond of him. We had so much easy, light-hearted fun enjoying all the pleasures of the flesh – good food, good drink and good sex. He would also provide wise counsel on our common area of work, on which he had decades of experience to share.
Two months earlier I had legally gotten married to Nerdie. Because of the pandemic it had to take place in our backyard with just a handful of people in attendance and one of my bridesmaids holding an iPad streaming it live for my family and any friends who wished to watch. MegaDon knew this day was coming. I had an engagement ring on my finger the day we met and I was very upfront about it through the entire time we dated. When we discussed the subject of marriage, he said he would never do it for a third time. His priority was companionship in a long-term relationship. I thought that put us on the same page.
Until one day that August he texted about getting together that week. His request was more urgent than usual.
“Does tomorrow evening work for you, Darlin?”
“Friday would be better…”
“I can’t Friday. My life is changing.”
“Changing how?”
“A family will be coming Saturday to live with me. I want to see you and to give you your outfits. I won’t be able to later.”
“You are breaking up with me?”
“No! I don’t want to do that!”
This was extremely peculiar. A family was coming to live with him, but he didn’t want to break up, but he won’t be able to see me later? I had no idea what to think.
I moved my schedule to be able to see him on the night requested. The evening began as it had nearly every time before with him meeting me out by the entrance fountain as I exiting my car, a hug, a peck on the cheek and and welcome walk inside to the kitchen where he was working on that evening’s Negronis.
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