The Widow’s Pink Panties part 1

Joe died…
Those words resonated in my mind for two nights and the day in between. He had been one of the best friends I’d ever had. He loved to play music, I loved to listen.
Joe was accomplished on piano, banjo, guitar, mandolin and his biggest asset… bullshit.
He could look you in the eye and make you believe the hair on his head was blue, instead of black.
He was the best in the world when it came to ‘farting on command’… and he didn’t care where, or in front of whom… he’d cut a big one just for fun.
His laugh was contagious, and his wit was quick.
It had been years since I attended a funeral, but I surely wouldn’t miss Joe’s.

Joe’s wife, Linda, had given them two sons.
Joe, jr. (J.J) and Gary. Both boys were now young men with families of their own.
J.J. had three daughters, the oldest being seven, and Gary had a four year old son.
Although both boys looked like carbon copies of Joe, Linda loved to tease them about being the UPS man’s sons.
To the best of my knowledge (and over the years I learned a lot) Linda had never been unfaithful to Joe.
I always hoped that if she decided to, though, I would be the lucky one. I had pissed at the same urinal trough with Joe many times… I knew how small his cock was.
Verification of that came from my wife, whom he talked into giving him a head job while Linda and I watched a Cowboy’s game.

Being faithful was not something Joe could brag about. He’d fuck anything with a pussy… and Linda knew, but accepted it as ‘being a man’.

Carly and I had done a little swinging, on occasion, since about our twelfth year of marriage.
Joe and I had tried several times to get Linda to ‘get with the program’ but to no avail.
Besides my own wife, I knew a few of Joe’s conquests, personally.
His own daughter-in-law, J.J.’s wife, was in bed with him several times when her husband was out of town on a long haul.

Now, Joe was dead and Carly found a personal trainer with a ten inch cock.
Linda’s arms were around my neck.
Her tears soaked my shirt and mascara smeared her cheeks as well as every shirt she had touched, “Please sit with us, Don.
You’re his best friend and mine, too.
I’ll tell the kids to move over and let you sit by me.”

“No, sweetheart, your sons need to hold your hands during the service.
I’ll sit behind you with the grandkids.
They love me and call me ‘Uncle Don’.
It’ll be good for them and me, too.
After the cemetery, I’ll drive you home and the rest can take the limos.”

It was a short service with an honor guard from the Navy. His former boss and several more from the steel plant sat directly behind us and several neighbors were there.
Linda was all over the place as we drove the eighteen miles back to her home, “What the fuck am I going to do now, Don?
I’m forty-six years old.
Joe left me plenty of money, but I need a man in my Goddamn life.
Did you know he didn’t even know how to turn the washer or dryer on? I’ve always done it…. Always.
That’s the way I was raised. A woman takes care of her man.
He could cook a good steak on the grill, you know that, but he’s never turned a burner on, on the kitchen stove…. Never.”

She cried for a few minutes, then started again, “Know what? I still need a good screwing once in a while.
Who’s going to handle that for me?”
She looked at me with a half grin, “I’m one sick bitch.