I keep looking in the mirror but I just don't see it. Personally I find a gray haired granny looking back at me, not eye catching but not butt ugly either. A modest woman, demure, perhaps a bit to the withdrawn, but that's just my opinion. My dear dumbass husband Denny must see something else. Honest to God, he must think I'm the stupidest shit on earth.
That view came to me Saturday night about midnight as he was banging me. Believe it or not children, women in their sixties still get banged now and then. Hard to comprehend for the younger generation who invented sex perhaps, but true all the same. In the raw, nipple to nipple banged. Not regularly, don't give me that much credit, but don't be putting me in a convent either. I'm still a woman, I know what a pecker can do and I can enjoy it very much. Come to think on it, I can even enjoy it with my husband.
Not that his technique is that bad, not at all. As I once wrote, he established in my mind and in my body that there are various categories of sex, ranging from getting fucked to making love. It all depends on the circumstances which direction it goes and who gets the enjoyment. Saturday night it was mutual, banging being the act where both are in heat and both get the pleasure by the time it's all done. That's a pretty easy concept to understand. Saturday night it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out something else as well. His pecker might have been in me but Denny was banging the shit out of Wendy.
Wendy, my very best friend I've ever had in life and our houseguest now that she's gone through another divorce. I hope our permanent houseguest for I absolutely love her dearly. Not as a lesbian, we're straight women for sure, but more than a sister. She's been my protector, my confidante, my mentor and my alter ego, all the time carrying 40 Double D's on her chest. The girl is HUGE, no doubt and Denny would give his left one to have her. Just one time fucking out Wendy. It's enough to make me laugh and Wendy just plain gag.
Not that Wendy has let a wedding ring be much of a barrier at times in the past, whether the ring was on her finger or his. Maybe that's what I so love about my friend, always a woman never afraid to follow her heart when she gives herself to her man. It has come with a cost, that noble heart broken more than once, but she continues on still looking for the good, in the heart and the cock. More than once she's found him. A woman experienced enough to know the lout I married isn't one of them too.