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When my wife died from breast cancer five years ago I was devastated. We had been married for nearly forty years, and it had been a good marriage in every way, including a very active and satisfying sex life which gave us both great pleasure.We weren’t swingers in the literal sense, but for the last ten years of our married life, we had enjoyed posting explicit photos and videos on a voyeur website for other’s enjoyment and arousal. We hooked up online using the chat option on the site with a small number of other members who had commented appreciatively on our postings. When a group video option was added, we regularly enjoyed evenings when we would masturbate and fuck together in what I suppose you could call an online orgy.For nearly a year I totally lost my libido, although I received many messages of consolation from our virtual lovers, including invitations by some couples who lived in the UK to stay with them for a weekend of fucking. My road to recovery began one weekend when my thirty-five-year-old daughter was staying with me with my delightful five-year-old granddaughter. She had discovered our unconventional sexual hobby when she was at university when she was browsing the site where our photos and videos were posted — a case of like mother like daughter I suppose.On Saturday evening we were sitting with a third glass of wine after a lovely dinner she had cooked for us when she brought up the question of my sex life or lack of it.“You know Dad,” she said, “it’s Acıbadem Escort time that you took hold of yourself and moved on. You’ve only been half living since Mum died, and you really do need to get fucked regularly if you don’t want to grow old prematurely.”I was about to demonstrate with her, and particularly about her unladylike language, when she put her hand on my knee to stop me, “No Dad, you need someone to tell you, and I love you and want to see you happy again. It’s not love you need, not yet anyway, but a virile man like you needs to have sex, and lots of it.”“I know you are right darling,” I replied, “but where do I find someone to play with. I’m not interested in some young bimbo, but what I would really like is a nice married lady in her late thirties or forties who would be willing to spend the night — or even a weekend — with an experienced lover. And I suppose I should add, without the knowledge of her husband.”“Dad, if you weren’t my father, I would fuck you tomorrow. You have one of the most beautiful cocks I have seen online, and I have several lady friends of the right age who would be only too willing to spend the night with you, especially when I tell them what a sweet man you are.”“My dear, how do I meet these ladies, and if I do, how do I get round to the subject of sex with giving offence or causing embarrassment?”“Leave everything to me Dad,” she said with a grin, “and pretty soon you’ll be getting as much Acıbadem Escort Bayan pussy as you can handle.”I more or less pushed the conversation out of my mind, putting it down to the effects of cosy lighting, soft music and a bottle or two of good wine. However, a few days later, amongst all the junk mail that was pushed through the letterbox every day, there was a rose pink envelope addressed in feminine handwriting and smelling of what I thought was probably an expensive perfume. Inside was an invitation, again handwritten, to afternoon tea the following Wednesday at an address on the other side of the village about a mile and a half away, but still in easy walking distance. I immediately penned a brief note accepting the invitation and walked to the post box to make sure it caught the afternoon collection.The house turned out to be a cottage of the sort favoured by the manufacturers of greetings cards — you know the sort, thatched roof, roses round the door, etc. A rather attractive blonde lady answered the door to my knock and politely asked me whether I was Leonard, and if so, would I like to come inside. She was a bit on the plump side but with a nice figure and full breasts, and clearly married if the rings on her ring finger were anything to go by. I guessed that she was probably in her late forties, but still desirable and definitely worth a fuck or two — or three or four or more.She took me into the sitting room which Escort Acıbadem was of a piece with the cottage with comfortable chintz-covered chairs and net curtains over the windows — no problems of being overlooked I thought, if things got interesting. I was then introduced to two other ladies, sort of in the same age bracket and who had also taken great care of their appearance; nicely groomed and shiny hair, nice complexions with only the hint of lines — and those were the nice smiley ones — carefully applied makeup and so on. The taller and more slender of the two had long dark hair and more than a hint of the Mediterranean about her — I discovered that her mother was from Italy and had come to Britain after the war. The other was a natural redhead with bright green eyes and a smile to melt a heart of stone — and make a limp cock stand to attention. For the next hour we sat around in that rather polite English way beloved of the British films of the forties and fifties, with a cup of tea and cakes, talking about the weather and the terrible cost of living, and our families. I discovered that they had all married before their twenty-second birthday, that between them they had seven children who were all in secondary school, although I still don’t know how many belonged to each or what gender they were, and that their husbands were more interested in golf than romancing their wives. When I enquired after the children I was told that it was half-term — amazing how one forgets such things as half-term — and that they were all away, either staying with friends or on some school organised trip. They were all very quick to assure me that their husbands, who were all golf buddies, had swanned off to Ireland for a few days of golf and Guinness — more Guinness than golf I suspected.
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