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I found Amelia sitting in their living room, a grand old room decorated in lemon yellow, large, formal furniture, and elegantly decorated with Degas and Monet paintings. Amelia, dressed for bed in her pale lime cotton pajamas, looked lost.I sat next to her and draped my arm over her shoulders. “How are you doing?”She stared at the drawn curtains, amber and red lights playing an eighties disco-like show through them.“Will Uncle Harold be okay?” she asked. “What happened to him?”“He’s had a heart attack,” I told her.She looked at me, her eyes wide and frightened behind her glasses. “Is he going to die?” she asked.“I don’t think so.”“I don’t want more people dying around me, Mike,” she said very seriously.“I’m sure he’ll be fine.”But he wasn’t. The call came early the next morning. I’d put Amelia to bed in one of my guest rooms. Sun was just peeking over the horizon casting a pure white light that turned the violet blue sky into royal blue.Harold had passed away. Betty was distraught,. “You're not scared of me?” Her voice was like a hiss, low, and sizzling. I felt dizzy with lust. “No,” I said. My eyes were focused on her as her eyes narrowed in surprise, before her soft but long palm forced its way into my pants, stroking my cock. I threw my head back in satisfaction, humping against her hand. I made to remove my headset in order to see her clearly when her hand stopped pleasuring me.“Leave it in, that is the only reason you don't see me," she commanded me. Before I could think of what she meant, I began to imagine myself on my knees, sucking her cock while she fisted my blond hair with her soft fingers, forcing me to take more than I could into my mouth. Another image of me grabbing hold of that pair of hot titties and rubbing her nipples with my thumbs formed in my head, making me ride her fingers faster. I closed my eyes as the first orgasm ripped through me, my semen shooting on her navel.Opening my eyes, clearly surprised at the power of the orgasm I had just.
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