Oops, left off part 4! She woke disoriented, not sure of anything in the gentle light from behind the cabin blind. Realised she still didn't have her knickers on. The sheet lay over and between them - Tom must have draped it over them when he came to bed. He was curled up in the linen. The bedroom was a mess, blanket crumpled against the door, discarded clothing tossed about, her knickers in clear view on the floor. It looked like a den of debauchery, and yet nothing had happened other than... She felt as if she'd gotten drunk and now couldn't quite remember the night before...God knew it had been half a lifetime or more since she'd had that feeling...but there was no hangover. Tom snored quietly. She gathered some day clothes and headed for the shower with some trepidation. Had he really..? The bathroom was as clean and innocuous as ever, although his boxers had been left empty on the floor, which meant he was wearing? She showered and dressed, bundled her knickers into the dirty clothes' bag, and tiptoed off to breakfast. Another relaxing, languid day at sea awaited. With the coming of a brisk breeze, the heaviest heat lifted. She caught up on reading or crosswords, watched Brendan having fun with cousins, chatted or played pass-the-baby with other mums of the clan. Ryan showed up in those shorts, and somehow, their effect was lost on her today. This she attributed to her relieving herself the evening before. He was still pleasant to the eye, that would always be the case, but not so fascinating as before. Later on, Tom also appeared and joined Neil and Ryan, three mates fishing on the afterdeck, laughing and chatting, enjoying a light ale. Just like any other day at sea. But something had changed. Pam found herself watching Tom, noticing everything from the sport on his face as he bantered with his friends, to the shape of his legs and how his neatly-tailored shorts fitted him. Which led to naughty thoughts about spanking, and a devilrous urge to lightly whack him on the backside should he walk by. Of course she was far too civilised to yield to the impulse, but the mischievous thought kept her smiling to herself for much of the day. As evening settled, she went below to get a lightweight jacket, and was startled to find the cabin tidily made. It was as though last night had truly been a dream. But now they knew things about each other beyond their wildest respective imaginings. It was a dream that would not be forgotten, for she was thinking of Tom in ways that had never occurred to her before. She was wondering what the touch of his hands might feel like. Watching him speak, and how his lips might play upon hers. Wishing she had run her fingertips along the curves of his body as he had lain there beside her. Wondered what their last night of sharing might bring. Although decorous as ever when they spoke, his eyes lingered upon her, smiling, a light in their depths. After dinner there was music, singing, and a little dancing that she shared with most of the men of the family. When Tom's turn came she locked eyes with him, and although he turned her about as ably and chastely as ever, there was something irresistibly flirtatious and intent at once in that gaze. As usual, she started yawning earlier in the evening than others. Tom nodded and smiled, acknowledging, as she made her goodnights. It disappointed her that he seemed nothing like ready to follow her downstairs. She took a long, slow shower, then wandered naked into the bedroom, taking her time deciding what to wear to bed tonight. Something special to celebrate their last night at sea? It was still very warm, but not so uncomfortable as the night before. One of his pyjama shirts? She giggled a little as she slipped one on, but the fabric was rather heavy and hot, so she folded it away again. She fretted over her underwear selection. Lacy and sexy had gone by the wayside in her widow years; they were feminine but practical, nothing special, so she put on all that was left to her. Or what about a pair of his boxers? Again, she held back. What were the chances he'd dismiss last night as passing lunacy? She had a fresh summer nightie, a bit longer than the other one, so finally dived under the sheet feeling a lot more decent than last night. She'd only just picked up a book when Tom arrived, earlier than usual. She glanced at him over her reading glasses. "Sure you wouldn't like to leave the bathroom door open?" she said mischievously. He just laughed as he gathered a pair of boxers and pyjama pants, and headed for the bathroom - closing the door behind him. "Yes, must have been dreaming last night." She put down her book and glasses, and put the light out. Something naughty and tantalising had turned back into dull and spinsterly middle-aged. Tom should emerge from the shower dripping and naked and pin her to the bed, covering her with passionate kisses. Or better still, she should be an assertive modern woman and go in there and climb under the shower rose with him, so that her nightwear would cling to her full breasts and erect nipples, and he would be unable to deny her. But of course, he'd have locked the door. Wouldn't he? It took her a moment to decide to try it. The shower had stopped, so he was probably getting dressed anyway, and she could make some excuse about forgetting to floss or something...With utmost care and stealth, she eased the doorknob around. And the panel opened. He was at the vanity, his back to her and already dressed, leaning close to the mirror to trim his beard. She enjoyed the sight of the smooth sweep of his bare back, and didn't hesitate. Stepping up to him, she put her arms around his waist, pressing her pelvis to his rump and hugging him. He felt wonderful! Just to embrace a man was a simple pleasure sorely missed. "Mm hmm?" His body shook with gentle laughter as she moulded herself to him. He made no other move, and she let her hands explore. He had tautened his belly, and she ran her fingers out to the crests of his hips, and the bunched waistband of his pyjamas, then followed that cloth border around to the front again. There, she found the knot, and the cords. Drawstring pyjamas were the very best kind! In the mirror she could see he had set down his grooming scissors and waited, a big grin on his face, to see what she was up to. Taking the strings firmly, she gave a good tug, and stepped back a little to allow his pants to drop away. Underneath was a thin layer of light linen over his nicely-shaped backside. "I've been wanting to do this all day," said Pam saucily. And she briskly smacked him on each cheek, enjoying the firm, resilient feel of him. His mouth dropped open in astonishment. "Pamela!" He spun around, hampered by his fallen pants, so she fled giggling to the bed and dived under the sheet. Hitching the trousers up again, he tied the knot methodically, laughing lightly, face slightly rosy. He walked around and climbed into bed beside her. "I'm the one who's supposed to be naughty, not you." "You've been naughty enough, making me think naughty things all day," she chided. He lay on his back, but turned his face toward her, smiling. "Really? Tell me, what sort of naughty thoughts?" She rolled onto her side, facing him. "Ohh, silly little things...I never really thought of you as a sexual creature before," she added seriously. Although that wasn't exactly true since his testimony of Linda's infidelity. Words like "boring" had stuck in her mind somehow. Silly Linda had such a short attention span she would have found a three-ring circus boring. Had she ever lain still long enough to listen and let Tom tease her mind as well as her body? Unlikely. "You mean to say that all these years you've been immune to my undeniable machismo? I'm insulted!" he said, droll and self-deprecating. Then he sobered. "With Mark in the foreground, and given I'm your brother-in-law, that's probably a good thing." "Yes, but also redundant these days. It's too easy to get stuck in old ways of thinking, and this has made a refreshing change." She smiled fondly at that face so familiar yet so new, and so oddly intimate on a pillow beside her. "Of course, other things have helped too. Your new lifestyle, your hair, this." She raised a hand to stroke his beard, finding the silken texture of neat whiskers very pleasing. "New Tom's much, much sexier than Old Tom." His eyes glowed with merriment, underscored by something much more enduring. Rolling toward her, he gently took her hand, and brought her fingers to his lips. "Someone I know has never been anything but lovely. I used to tell myself it was because she was unattainable. I wonder if she will stay that way?" That gentle kiss, and the velvet in his words together stirred feelings she had thought long lost to her. No man had moved her since Mark; she had been old and cold. Warm embers sparked and fired. At first she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. "I...you...surely you're not talking about...me?" "Goodnight, Pam," he said softly, leaning forward to brush her forehead with his lips. Then he rolled over. *Was that it?* she found herself asking yet again. Was that all she was going to get? After all the years, anger and frustration billowed. "Thomas Franklin, don't you dare turn your back on me!" she declared imperiously. "Tomorrow we go back to our new lives, hundreds of miles apart. How were we going to celebrate our last night together? Wham bam thankyou ma'am?" "Statistically speaking, the chances would have been good," she said stiffly. "Let's have a screw because we're lonely and desperate and it's our last chance and then off we go? Grab the opportunity and root in a ditch by a sunflower paddock? Well, no thanks, I'd rather not cheapen our friendship so, so let's go home and not complicate anything because our relationship ain't broke and doesn't need fixing." She sat up angrily. "How dare you compare me to Linda!" "I don't want sex, I want love," he muttered, "I've been waiting half a lifetime and I'm getting pretty bloody tired of waiting." He was huddled on his side, facing away, bunched up in the sheets. "Jesus, Tom," she muttered, the anger draining from her. She lay down again and put her arm around him, snuggling herself to his back. "Tom, if I didn't care, I wouldn't be here now." "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like I was making unfortunate comparisons, that wasn't my intent," he said. Then he tossed and wriggled around to face her again. "I just..." There was pain in his eyes, and a keen light. "If this evening had...panned out differently...I wanted it to be for all the right reasons, not the wrong ones. For love, not pity or loneliness." "Making love, as opposed to having sex." He nodded gratefully. "I'm tired of feeling like second- hand goods, and I'd never dream of hurting you." He drew his fingertips along her cheekbone. "I would do anything to please you." "Tom," she said huskily, "I want a man who can satisfy me. That's something I've never known, did you know that? I want love, and I want a love that lasts more than five minutes. I want a lover like I've never known before...and I want to have him forever." She stroked his bearded chin again, this time brushing the edge of his lip. "Something is telling me you might be the one, and if I don't find out we'll both be poorer for it." "You're the only woman left that I can trust, Pam." Turning his head ever so slightly, he trapped her fingertip softly between his lips. "Your trust means everything to me, dear Tom. And the night is young." Their lips had touched before; only ever briefly, formally, and very rarely. Now, it was a delight to let such a kiss draw out, linger; pause, then resume, unhurried and without any guilt at the pleasure of it. His beard made her skin tingle; his long straight nose nuzzling hers. He slipped his hand around to the nape of her neck and up, his fingers losing themselves in the soft mass of her hair, combing and playing with it in a way that suggested he had long wondered how it felt. And whenever she thought of how long, it seemed, he had admired her, her heart ached and she wanted to make up for lost time. She ran her hand over the cool curves of his shoulder, pulling her body closer, finding his feet with hers. His tongue peeped between her lips as passion grew; her tongue raced up to peck it then run away, begging him chase her. His hair was velvet-bristly between her fingers as she drew him into a deep French kiss that seemed to last forever. And that was just the entree. Their kisses made them friends no longer. Well- conditioned by the years, her sexual centres were responding, her crotch throbbing, every sensation sharpened by the knowing that she would not be pleasured by herself, but another; a loving and familiar man. His lips left hers and roved along her throat, hands moving to cup her breasts through the cotton gown. She ran her foot up his ankle and leg, catching the hem of his pants with a toe so that she could feel the coarse manly texture of his skin. His chest was smooth and warm, and as she moved her hands along his ribs and down toward his waist, his hands followed hers but along her body, seeking the hem of her nightie, pulling the fabric up, finding access. She had taken her breasts for granted, her natural cleavage. Had he been secretly admiring them for all this time? A night ago, she had dangled them before him while he slept, unaware of how thrilling his touch would be. He drew back a little, wonder in his eyes as he gazed at their naked fullness by lamplight, pressing them up into magnificent mounds. While he admired her, her questing leg hooked over his, pulling their lower bodies together. And laying there was something she had resigned herself to never knowing. At first she thought it the knot of his pyjamas - but that was also there, much higher up. Something else definite was pressing against her lower belly, and she gave a small gasp. Something she wanted. Needed. Tom raised himself up to gain better access to her breasts, taking his time to cover her chest in kisses. When his lips found one nipple and joined forces with his tongue to kiss and suck, she gasped again as her clitoris throbbed. Her womanhood seemed to open wide and wet with desire, and when her hands reached down to find the stuff of dreams, every muscle and nerve flashed with hot pleasure. From between the folds of his clothing...It wasn't so much his length as his diameter, how he filled her hand that astonished her. A thick, hard column beneath soft, sliding skin; she was almost afraid to move her hand lest he erupt and the wonderful feeling be lost. Her heart thundered beneath his lips. Feeling her stillness and her agog gaze upon him, he lifted his face to smile, and slowly, easily, rocked his pelvis while she held him. "My God, Tom, won't you...come?" He just smiled. Lowering a hand to hers, he encouraged her to slowly stroke his full length. While he lowered his lips to her nipple again, he untied and got rid of his clothing. "Lie on your back, my love," he murmured, kneeling and gathering her gown and lifting it off as she changed position. Now she let her eyes do the touching, from his reverent face down the lines of his torso; down past navel to the nest of pubes grey-frosted as were her own. From there rose his strong, impossibly-patient shaft, still large. "Why do we have to wait for the very best things?" she wondered, reaching out to touch him again. He shuffled closer and straddled her waist, moving closer and closer, so that now she could feel his pouch warm and soft caressing her stomach as he moved. "Perhaps hunger is the best sauce...oh, Pamela, I never thought I would see you like this!" He cupped her breasts in his hands, pulling them up to embrace his penis, and rocked to and fro. It felt wonderful, and his light musk only heightened her need. "Don't come here, Tom, come inside me, that's where I need you!" She didn't even have her soaking wet panties off - unlike last night, they were the last to go, and she got rid of them quickly. Again, he gave his enigmatic smile, then started moving back down her body, trailing kisses down her midline. At her hips, he was still straddling her, and this time he pushed his penis firmly down between her thighs. His cockhead tormented her clit by slipping over it. Immediately she thrust her pelvis up and tried to get her legs apart, giving a small groan of frustration. He did it twice more before raising his hips and freeing her, so that she spread her legs wide apart and he knelt between them. He found the place, and with almost ceremonial slowness, pressed into her and filled the emptiness. Pam moaned as a wondrous, stretching sensation grew within her. Her own body wanted to twitch and jerk about, to dance as if on live wires, and the urging built as that fullness started to slide, back and forward. Her eyes were locked with Tom's awestruck gaze. "Twenty years," he breathed as he slowly thrust. "I've waited twenty years for this moment!" Pam could not answer, her throat and body coiled at the point of orgasm. Instead she clutched at his buttocks, trying to drag him ever deeper into her, to pull herself onto him, to have his every last rigid centimetre...to hold his hardness inside and embrace it fully, for as long as she could. "Easy, love, what's the hurry? We have all night." But his voice came from a long way away as she hit the heights of orgasm. She had never thought it ladylike to scream or holler, especially in shared accommodations, and Mark would not have liked her to bellow. But there was no containing the soft cries of delight that helped her joy find an outlet. And when her body relaxed, agonising white heat cooling to a warm hum, Tom's shaft still moved inside her, rhythm picking up and stimulating. After childbirth she had dutifully stuck at her perineal exercises and was now grateful for it, for she could clench those muscles and feel him even more keenly. He felt it too, for he glanced at her quizzically, so she did it again and he smiled, and changed his stroke again; plunge in, ease out. Her breath caught, feeling his wonderful motion and solidity within, her body pulsating in resonance. She was going to come again. "You beautiful man!" She clung to him, their legs interlaced; felt his rump rippling as he drove tirelessly into her. Surely he would come soon! He was picking up speed, and their bodies were slick with sweat. But then, he pulled right out, and lay over on his back. "Come on, I want you up here, I want you as many ways as we can!" His erection pointed up toward his navel, and he raised it up with one hand, an irresistible pole. Pam needed no further invitation. She hesitated for a moment as his glans tickled her clit - hesitated as a diver before taking a joyous plunge. She thrust herself down upon that slick column good and hard, leaping and diving, while he bent his back and brought his lips to her nipples again. Pleasure rose up in her in waves, climbing and falling, again and again, higher with each thrust, and he may as well have been made of iron. "My ex would have been bored to tears by now!" he panted, eyes afire with love and joy on his face. Pam's only answer was to gasp and whimper, a great tremor shivering through her. He thought of her shaking the night before and arched himself again, bringing more whimpers from her as the pleasure took her for a second time. At last, she slumped upon him, catching her breath. He was still smiling, and still rock-solid within. She raised herself up again, now using her body to stroke him, gliding up and down. "Let's do something else," he suggested. "Although watching you come - that's something I could watch over and over!" His hands curled beneath her thighs, lifting her. She was reluctant to dismount, to let that cock escape, and rose away from him very, very slowly, eyes dark with disappointment as his head slipped from her. He rolled from beneath her, surging to his knees to kneel behind her. Wrapping himself around her, he nuzzled her neck and shoulder, arms snug around her waist and breasts, his inner thighs pressing her rump. His stiffness rubbed her buttocks, standing hard against her sacrum. They rocked together, closer than any dream. At last, she pushed his hands down her body, to her hips, leaning forward and rolling her still-pulsing womanhood upward. He found her moist well, and their bodies meshed again. Her moan of delight was deep as his hardness entered her. Was it possible she would come yet again? He was still moulded around her at first, hands clasped over her swinging breasts as they rocked. But now his tempo was picking up pace and his body slowly straightened, hands travelling to her hips and kneading her buttocks. He drove hard against her now, so that their skin slapped, and she could feel the soft buffeting of his balls bouncing against her. "You have got...the most beautiful...god you're lovely!" he gasped, driving harder and faster, his thighs taut. She could just see him in the dresser mirror, and engorged muscles gave his body shape, stripping the years from him. Could twenty years lost become twenty years regained, to enjoy all over again? She felt his penis jerk as he came at last, shivers of empathic pleasure taking her as well. Together, they sagged to the rumpled bedding. Even then, he didn't slip away quickly. They both lay as still as possible, she still clenching upon him fitfully until finally, his bulbous head slipped free, leaving a warm tingling of satiety. Spent, they slumped together, resting, until finding the energy to crawl into each others' arms. "Tom," she whispered, caressing his face. So familiar and so close. Eyes lit with wonder, as though he could not believe his good fortune. "Why...did it take so long?" His smile was whimsical, almost smug. "I guess I was just born that way." "No, you silly thing! I meant...for this night to come about..." She squeezed him and kissed his brow tenderly. "It was a rhetorical question." "Time for you to grieve...for me to see the truth about Linda..." He pressed his lips to hers with more assertiveness, more passion, and she melted against him as her mouth responded. "I'm not going to let this end, Pamela," he said huskily. "We'll rest for now, but later..." "Ohh good, you intend to do this to me again?" "That, and more, if you wish," he purred, letting his fingertips slip across her damp bush. As he kissed her, he let his tongue demonstrate to hers what it may well be capable of down below. Pam shivered in delight and anticipation. "I wish," she murmured, nuzzling him. "But what's the hurry?"