..the last of my masculinity slipping away, in frontof the world. I'm a FUCKING MAN!My wife has my dick, her silly little dicklette, locked up. I can'...remember what it looks like, what a real orgasm feels like. I becomeaware of my stockings. The events of the night playing over and over inmy mind. I fight back tears...a lump in my throat I can't push down. FUCKI'm going to start crying in front of all these people. And then.And then a sense of peace begins to wash over me, a sense of calm.. The k**s are at our parents’ house every week days and only come home on weekends. As being that, it was a Sunday night. My friend Cher came and it was only me there. We sat on the couches and talked about our lives in general. It went on and on, and we ended up with the topic of him finding a girl. He explained to me that none of the girls that he dated after his wife’s demise were hot, and he couldn’t get a full erection when having sex. He doesn’t get pleasurable sex like he used to. I felt. The state that she was in now, on long legs folded in a lotus and held against my chest as I thrust into her from above, was one of her favorites.“No, I mean really hold me...” she moaned.Curious, I moved my hands to her slim upper arms, warm in the sunshine, and gripped hard, pressing her back against the grass so that she couldn’t move under me as I pistoned my hips faster, driving myself in and out of her hot, wet cunt.“Oh, yes! Like that, like that, like...” Her neck strained as she tilted. Gloria patted Eric’s hand and got up and knocked on their daughter’s door. “Come on out and meet Will, the new manager,” she said. She sat back down and her husband put an arm around her shoulder. I took another sip of my sparkling water and glanced up as their daughter entered the room. She was even shorter than her mother, and thinner, making her look like a teenager. Her hair was dark like her mother’s, but closely cropped, almost like a boy’s. She wore no makeup and had on shorts that could.