This is true story which happened to me some years ago :
When I was 26 my mother died & my father took it very badly. He had been totally reliant on her & was unable to cope. For the next few months he took to drink, but then he met Marge at a social club. She was an attractive lady of 58, around the same age as my dad.
When I first met Marge I was impressed by her dress sense & she always seemed to be immaculately made up, red lipstick, jewellery, tight clothes to show off her ample cleavage.
I had always been attracted to the more mature woman, and being single at the time, had an immediate excitement run through my body. I don't know why because it was highly unlikely that I would find myself in a position to do anything about it….at least that's what I thought then.
Anyway, my dad & Marge got married after a few months & I would spend weekends over at their house in Basingstoke, or they would come over to mine in London.
When they were out, I would continually find myself sifting through Marge's knicker drawer, or her suitcase for her skimpy knickers, imagining what it would be like with them on her….and then start wanking myself off.
Over the next few months, things seemed to take a turn for the worse between my Dad & Marge, and after about a year together they split up, as my aunts had predicted (they thought Marge looked like a bit of a tart).
Well, I thought that this would be last I would see of Marge, but about a month after the split I received a call from her saying that I had left some clothes over at her house & what did she want me to do with them.
I told her that I could pop over at the weekend as I was on business in her area on Friday. So on Saturday morning I called round to her house.
