Whenever me and Beth get together when horny we have great sex. There is a spark between us whenever we touch. We did it in every room in our first home including on the stairs, in the loft, over the toilet and in the garden. For months she had orgasms on my cock regularly. We were both very happy in the honeymoon period.
"I've been out with lots of men who were idiots and I lived with a knob head for a while."
Beth was talking about her ex boyfriend who she had lived with.
"You are an intelligent, kind, nice man who I have lots of time for," she continued.
"I can't stand Morons."
We laughed about that, then she pulled my cock out and give it a good hand workout.
We spent ages together but as the years passed sex between us gradually calmed down, Beth orgasmed when I licked her out, or fingered her love holes and clit, but she no longer came on my cock. We made love always in missionary position nowadays, only at bedtime and sometimes only once per week. I had gone from lasting 30 seconds for an orgasm when we met, to lasting half an hour or more and sometimes never even getting to ejaculate at all.
If Beth wasn't in the mood she would play with my tool and give me a good wank before she went to sleep. I think she saw it as her wifely duty.
Sometimes though, after half an hour pulling my todger, she would give up if I didn't orgasm.
We had two lovely children, daughters but Beth did not want more kids, so I'd had a vasectomy. I wouldn't be getting her (or anyone else for that matter) pregnant and she could finally come off contraceptives which did not agree with her physiology.
At 40 years of age Beth was looking for something new to do in her spare time. She had lost weight, got fit, maintained her lovely chest and ass, had a much thinner waistline and was generally happier in herself. I mentioned that my grandfather had been a keen train-spotter. Beth liked the idea of this, having recently got up to date with Environmental issues and the latest carbon free emission trains.
Spotting trains appealed to her and me also. We contacted the Railway Board and joined the waiting list for platform passes to our local station called Lower Peeover, to watch trains go past and log them off as seen. As Spring progressed the weather improved each day, as we watched varied trains go past. Diesel, electric and rare Steam trains. We emptied out an old dilapidated signal shed, just behind the platform we sat on. Set it up with chairs, candles, a kettle, cups, tea and coffee, sugar, a table and a small bar. Very cosy. At one time railway staff had worked in it but its function had long since been automated and now was just gathered dust. Sitting in there when it rained enabled us to keep spotting through the big glass windows facing the twin tracks.
We would go down to the station when working from home, most evenings and of a weekend. It was a few minutes walking distance from our home.
When there was a football match on or I couldn't go for whatever reason, Beth liked going to the Railway Station on her own to chill out. As summer arrived more trainspotting people appeared down at the platforms. They mostly were of a much older generation than us. Guys in their late 60s, 70s and even older. We fitted in with the 40 plus age group of middle class, wealthy, recycling generation. Regulars at the station were 3 older guys, who were friends with each other. They were distant but pleasant enough when we were there.
They became more friendly as they noticed we were not just going to keep spotting for a few weeks then give up on it, like a lot of people of our age group had done previously.
Beth spent time with them and she found them to be relaxing. Jim was into brewing his own alcohol; mainly Mead and Wine at home and brought some to drink while sat watching trains go past. While Stanley entered flower shows and gardening contests.
Gerrald or Gerry as he preferred to be called liked steam trains, especially one called the Mallard because he described himself as "Well Hard."
One day Gerry had a bit of a moan at me, saying;
"You come down here with your snobby, stuck up, "la de da" attitude and have a few expensive drinks in your signal shed, while I come down 'ere it's because I need to relax! Not listen to you waffling on about your Volvo or your stocks and hedge funds. "
Jim who had given Gerry lots of home brewed wine that day, came to get him and walk him off to the other platform because Jim had heard Gerry getting louder and angry. Alcohol often caused Gerry to start a commotion.
"Sorry" Jim said to me. "He had one too many of my home made drinks today I think."
Jim was 67 years old and his hearing was pretty good while Gerry was 75 years old and despite his age and attitude; he was fit as a fiddle. I had not seen anyone carry as much trainspotting gear for as long as he could. Gerry was well built, strong and muscular. Unusual for an old guy. Whereas Stanley was 82 years old and was the quiet man of the group. Jim escorted Gerry to where Stanley had set up their seats after the verbal incident.
I could hear the 3 guys voices arguing again. One was saying,
"He comes down here, with a pretty wife, pampers around her for a few hours then goes home or off to a nice restaurant for his tea. Makes me sick he does... "
"Blimey! "
I thought as I listened to the drunken conversation, these guys are not friendly after all. Their conversation switched to Beth, I hear them talking about her large rack, nice arse and friendly nature. Gerry then said;
"Let us try to get her and teach that Andy guy a lesson," to which Stanley said;
"Oh! I do like a competition."
Jim replied that;
"We have got no chance, a woman who is just 40 years old, is not going to be interested in any of us old guys."
The conversation became garbled after that but I did hear them decide to see which of them could get my wife Beth. I didn't know if they meant to kiss her, to see her tits, surely not to try and shag her?
"To get her." was what they had said.
So while I had my cup of tea I pondered what they meant. Without any success.
I didn't think much about what I had heard over the next few days. I thought Beth didn't take any messing from anyone and I couldn't foresee Beth showing any inclination to be chatted up by these old guys.
Beth had two weeks off work as a rest holiday. She wanted to spend some time at Lower Peeover Station rather than go abroad. Over our evening meal on the Wednesday, Beth mentioned that;
"Jim gave me several glasses of his Nettle Wine, during the afternoon."
I noticed her starting to go very red in her face and her neck and chest had a flush of pink all over it.
"This is odd." I thought,
Beth only gets flushed in the face and chest like this when she is sexually aroused.
Beth then started to explain. While folding her arms across her tits she said:
"You know me, I'm not a prude. I've got my nice big girls out lots of times, like at Jemma's 60th birthday party, that day on the River Thames when those lads shouted;
" Get your tits out!"
"As we sailed past the Anglers Inn pub in our hire boat and the night when I saw that girl was trying to flirt with you at a party and she showed you her little tits. I saw what was happening and came over to you and got my "Grand Tetons" out and wiped her clean out!"
She laughed, as she recounted times she had confidently got her tits out in public.
Then she started talking about that trainspotting incident that day again.
"The Nettle Wine turned out to be over 30% gravity of alcohol, very strong. It hit me for six! He then wanted to show me his collection of train photographs in the signal box." Said Beth.
So we headed towards the signal shed.
She said;
"He was acting a bit odd looking down my top at my tits and walking behind me watching my ass sway as I walked." Then she said;
"When I got to the shed doorway, the alcohol was taking effect, so he put his arm around my back so I didn't fall over but also so he could feel the side of my boob. While he talked, his fingers pressed my tit inwards and began to move towards my nipple. I was in shock Andrew." she said.
I thought back to the conversation I had overheard the week before. If "getting her" had meant feeling Beth's big tits, Jim must have won the bet. She continued to explain how he had used her alcoholic state to get both her tits out into the fresh air by the shed door, unbuttoning her top, skilfully unhooking her bra with one hand and then fondled them for several minutes until Beth sobered a bit from the wine and the shock. Then she got him off her mammarys and she shoved him away from her, he staggered backwards until he fell off the back of the platform into a load of blackberry bushes and weeds.
Beth then turned around and hurried home holding her blouse closed while she ran.
"Did he hurt you?" I asked her. When she said no I laughed about the incident and said:
"I thought you were not too bothered about showing off your gorgeous chest."
"Are you for real?" she said. "If I choose to get my girls out on display I can cope with that, but if someone else gets them out, I'm not prepared and it shocked me."
Then she added;
"And if a pensioner is the person getting my tits out, I would be stunned and paralysed by the surprise. It seemed like they were on display forever. He got a good grope that dirty old man. Before I got my mojo back and got him off me."
After a bit of time passed, we had watched our usual evening TV shows, I thought over what Beth had said. It was definitely arousing me. I thought that some old boy, had gone for my wife and succeeded in getting her tits out. She is usually aggressive and takes no shit from anyone, so the guy must have some bottle to try it on with her.
"So are you going to speak to him Andrew?" she asked me.
She wants me to tell him off for what he did, I thought. So I said:
"Yes definitely." But I was thinking of congratulating the old guy for doing so well and getting so far.
It was Saturday before Beth was back at Lower Peeover station. The Flying Scotsman was due apparently.
Once again Beth came home looking a bit flushed.
"What is the matter," I said. "Are you alright?"
Beth replied "I just can't believe what happened today."
I was getting a bit worried now, it was over two week since Beth and I had made love and I wondered if she might be thinking of getting some love from somewhere else.
"Tell me what is the matter?" I said
"Well I have been fondled by an 82 year old man today!" she gasped.
"What!!" I said, almost grinning.
"I was wearing a light blue cotton dress, it was hot, so I didn't wear a bra today" she said.
"As I was leaning forward looking at my phone picture gallery of trains, I became aware of Stanley who was not 12 feet away from me crouching over looking down my top. I looked down and could clearly see my nipples and naked tits hanging forwards."
Beth, continued;
"So if I could see them, so could he. When I looked back, he was standing up and walking towards me with a big tent in his shorts. I managed to get off the small fold up seat but dropped onto my knees, but my breasts were covered up, before he was close to me."
I was transfixed by what Beth was saying and getting excited as she described what happened next. Even though I loved my wife, the thought of her body being explored by an 82 year old was making me hot.
"So he comes over." She says and "Suddenly he grabs my tits, then gets one in each hand!"
Then;