Missing Piece (scene 1)

A career in kindness to children, and lately caring for the aging
I referred to my co-worker often as Saint Lisa  
The comment made her smile with a slight blush and she’d say,
“I don’t know about that,” in typical southern girl self-depreciating tone
 
What mysteries does she hold in her small, though heavy frame?  
Teen years when her petite hotness wasn’t lost on the Catholic boys
She filled herself with many of them in youthful indiscretion  
But later confessed them all away to her priest and settled into marriage  
 
Now divorced with three grown children, her needs are resurrected
She said there’s an emptiness now to fill
There’s a missing piece in her life  
 
So today I kneel at Saint Lisa’s fleshly alter
My head rests in the not-so-small of her back  
Her warmth of fifty-seven years radiates to my face  
 
My fingers explore the folds of her years  
Weight added with child bearing and time to her almost five foot frame
We embrace in half-light and I find her features with pleasure
 
My hands move up to cup her breasts, round and saggy
Though warm and soft with nipples firm to my touch  
I kiss the back of her neck and think of her smile  
 
God, her smile! Borne of deep sweetness that beams with light  
She turns to face me and our eyes meet with knowing looks
She glances down and her eyes sparkle, seeing my tool, resolute and ready  
 
We kiss long as her fingers toy with my scrotum and feather my shaft
The source of her infectious laugh and years of kind words to children  
She now holds me there inside of the miracle of her mouth
 
Lisa rises and kisses me again, the salty taste of pre-cum on her tongue  
She rolls back onto her bed and her weighty folds smooth
She is beautiful, her short legs spread wide and raised tender feet.
 
I move to her and feel her fingers guide me to her Catholic cunt  
Wet and waiting for me, warm and inviting, the way God intended
I look into her face as I press in and she glows with a smile
 
“Thank you for filling my missing piece.”