We Will All Miss You!
, A young tiger man remembers the joy and happiness. An important Tiger woman made in his life.
The church is filled with a somber energy, the air heavy with the scent of flowers and the weight of shared memories and loss. Tom stands near the back, his eyes roving over the congregation, a small sad smile playing on his lips.
His gaze lands on a tiger man dressed in black in his late thirties, standing near the front. He remembers the first time he saw Gertrude taking him in her mouth. She was insatiable, even then, even in her sixties. He can still remember her lips around him, her tongue stroking the underside of his penis, her strong suction almost sucking his soul out of the now-then-young tiger.
Tom remembers the first time she let him fuck her, in her kitchen, her bent over the table where she used to bake cookies for the neighborhood and church functions. She was warm and experienced, her body still shapely despite her age, her cries of encouragement echoing through the kitchen. He was just 18 then, but she made him feel like a man.
His eyes move to another man, this one in his early forties. He remembers Gertrude taking this one's virginity, in her familiar bedroom full of sturdy and expensive furniture and that well-known canopy bed that most of the males in the neighborhood would get to know. She'd told Tom about it, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "He was so eager, Tom. So eager and so big. I had to teach him how to control himself."
Tom feels a pang of nostalgia, of longing. He misses Gertrude, misses the way she made him feel. He looks around the church, at the men who are here for the same reason. They all loved Gertrude, all in their own way. They all shared a secret with her, a secret that made them smile, that made them feel alive.
He remembers the way she'd touch them, her fingers lingering, her eyes inviting. He remembers the way she'd take them in, her body welcoming, her words encouraging. She was a force of understanding and joy, a feline goddess among males and from what he had heard a few females also.
His gaze falls on a married man, a man with a reputation, a man who everyone thinks is a saint. Tom knows better. He knows about the time before he was married. Gertrude took him in her mouth, in her pussy, in her ass. He knows about the times she made him come so hard he saw stars. He knows that this now-married man is here because he loved Gertrude, just like the rest of them. After all, she gave them something they all needed, something his fellow mourners miss.
Tom feels a sense of pride, of camaraderie. They're all here because of Gertrude, because of the way she touched them, because of the way she loved them. They're all here because she took care of them because she gave them a piece of herself.
Tom sees the mayor of the city. Gertrude had taken the man under her wing, teaching him the art of lovemaking with her characteristic patience and enthusiasm. "He was so eager, Tom," she'd told him later, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "But he had no idea what he was doing. I had to show him how to please a woman, how to make her feel truly loved."
The priest's voice grows louder, pulling Tom back to the present. The service is ending. The congregation begins to stand, their movements rustling through the church. Tom takes a deep breath, a small smile playing on his lips. He looks at the white casket, at the woman who gave so much of herself, who took so much pleasure in giving.
He whispers a goodbye, a thank you, a final "farewell, Aunt Gertrude. You were some of our first, our best. We'll miss you."