It's late for you to be heading home." He explained. "And... you should have a bed for the night, you need it." He held up a blanket. "I'll sleep here....." No!" she clutched at his arm, pulling him against the thin material of the towel. "Please... don't leave me alone... I... I need someone to talk to." O... Ok..." he assured her, and led her to the door. "You get changed, I'll be right here." He stood still, closing the door and leaning his back against it, tears in his eyes as he contemplated. But once she was comfortably settled at fifty-five in what had been their family home in the small Bedfordshire town of Sandy, she felt those suppressed stirrings coming to life again - in spite of the pain of loss. Alone in the house, she was now free to indulge her burgeoning fantasies whenever the mood took her. It increasingly did. At first she felt guilty when lying in the bed she had shared with Ken for thirty years, watching videos of women making love – either to each other or to. .....AND my wife returning his passionate attention.I went and sat in a chair directly opposite them staring in horny unbelief, my cock on the verge of exploding.His hand went down to her knees, moving upwards, underneath her dress, her legs opening. I could see her white panty, and stared in amazement seeing the incredible wetness of her pussy causing an immense wet patch on her panty.His hand touched the wet panty, and my wife gasped, pushing her pussy forward for him to touch. He stroked her. That night I tossed and turned trying to sleep but those damn stories kept popping into my mind. Eventually I fell asleep but it was a troubled sleep. I woke up the next morning just as tired as the night before.After seeing everyone off, I took the magazine out of the drawer and carefully read the stories again. I found myself playing with my tits before I let my fingers stroke my wet panties. I stood up and took them off and laid back down, fingering my engorged pussy until I exploded.When I.
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