CHAPTER 4
Things were not going well for Alan's younger brother, Frank, who had broken up with the woman we had come to regard as his wife, though they never married, as is common today. He lost his job, perhaps due to the stress, so we invited him to stay with us in our son's old room until he got himself fixed up.
He was ten years younger than Alan. He also had all his hair, though he wore it rather long for my (conservative) taste. By which comments you can tell that I think he was quite attractive for his age. I told him so, and said I was sure he would find another lady friend and a good job.
He didn't like talking about the breakup, but said there was no-one else involved. They had just drifted apart, which was sad, as I had liked his girlfriend.
It wasn't long before I began to get certain thoughts, and eventually we shared them. There were certainly semen-filled tissues in the bin of Frank's room, and it seemed a waste of good spunk.
Finally we agreed and made him the offer. We explained that as Alan had lost ability and feeling, we would both appreciate it if Frank fucked me sometimes, and we thought it would be nice for him. He said he couldn't possibly do that, but we were sure he would come round soon enough.
Surprisingly, he did not. Well perhaps not so surprising, I thought. I was too old and unattractive, which made me rather sad.
Alan asked him privately if he was perhaps gay, but he adamantly said no, he desired women and it wasn't that he didn't like me, but he really couldn't do it.
Finally we both told him about how we loved creampies, and what a kindness he would be doing to provide us with some. He said that was a bit too kinky, so we were even worse off. It was depressing for the three of us.
CHAPTER 5
One day I went to vacuum his room, and moved the bed. Underneath I found some lacy panties with what looked like dried semen on them. They were not mine. Unable to restrain my curiosity, I looked in the small suitcase on top of the wardrobe, which was full of women's underwear. Strange.
Some days later we were all sitting glumly with too much drink inside us, and Frank said "Knickers to that!" for some reason.
"You really like knickers, don't you?" I said. Frank froze.
"What are you talking about?"
"I found some in your room. Souvenirs?"
"Have you been looking through my things?" he asked angrily.
"Of course not," I lied. "I found them under the bed when I was vacuuming. Yours or your girlfriend's?"
I am ashamed to think I said these things, but I was annoyed and a bit drunk.