The Album

It is well over a quarter of a century now since I first got to know Frank. He and his wife, Jenny were very kind to us when we moved in next door with a young family, and Jenny would often babysit if we wanted to go out for the evening. Sadly, Jenny died five years ago after a long illness, just ten months before Frank’s seventy-fifth birthday.However, Frank felt that she would still want him to continue with the planned celebration, although it became more a memorial of their fifty years of happy marriage, and he spent much of the evening reminiscing about their life together.
As the night drew on, and after all the other guests had left, his inhibitions perhaps relaxed by the wine, Frank began to talk candidly about their sex life. It became clear that they had enjoyed an active and adventurous relationship right up to the last few months of Jenny’s life when she became too ill to make love. He admitted that he missed the physical presence of her warm soft body in his bed, and that the strength of his sexual desires had not waned with her death. He needed, he said, to relieve himself regularly by masturbating, although it was rather unsatisfying, and definitely not the same as making love to a real woman.
He also became rather flirtatious and made no pretence of hiding his admiration for my wife, Eleanor’s voluptuous charms, and when we left to return home his goodnight kiss was rather more passionate than the usual quick peck between close friends.
When we were lying in bed relaxing after enjoying gentle and sweet lovemaking, Ellie and I discussed Frank’s situation, and wonderedwhat we could do to help him. Frank was not really computer literate, otherwise I would have suggested some tasteful voyeur web sites for him to enhance his masturbation sessions, with arousing pictures of naked women posted by themselves or their partner — including one site where Ellie and I had posted many explicit pictures of her over a number of years.

Indian Wife and Bold Neighbours

It was after a good deal of search that Zoya and Rehaan had finally chosen this house. It was in an upmarket locality of the town. Although the house was small, it was compact and the neighbourhood was good. That is what the agent who had got them this house had told them. Zoya was all of twenty eight years old and married four years back to Rehaan, a software engineer employed with a multinational. Yet another added advantage of this locality was that their immediate neighbors were known to her sister-in-law i.e Rehaan’s elder sister Sameera. Sameera was about 38 years old , almost as old as Zoya’s neighbours Veronica and George,
The movers had been gone less than an hour. Zoya was crouched among the luggage and packing boxes which littered the spacious front room of the house. She glanced up and saw her husband, Rehaan, stripped to the waist, sweat glistening off his broad shoulders as he carried a trunk toward the staircase. Seeing him that way stirred sweet sensations in her lower abdomen, and Zoya sighed softly. This was one of the happiest moments in her life. She pushed a long, dark curl away from her face, continuing to savor the joyful feelings coursing through her youthful body, enjoying a salacious tingle as her dark nipples hardened against the cotton material of her T-shirt. And her shapely breasts throbbed when, acting on impulse, she stood and made her way towards her husband. She was relishing this moment all the more because while living with her in-laws she was required to be dressed properly in the ubiquitous salwar kameez with the dupatta firmly draped over her breasts. It was only during a vacation that she could dress the way she liked to; in sleeveless tee-shirts and shorts or jeans which showed off her fair, smooth arms and legs. What was the point in undergoing the painful waxing and getting rid of all the hair if there was nobody to see and admire them?