She had married a much older Jewish business man but sadly he had died three years later.Jean Smart was fifty-one and a widow. Her husband had been mu...h older than her. He had died four years ago but he hadn’t been active sexually for fifteen years. Jean had a son but he had died in a car crash four days after his eighteenth birthday. Jean and her husband had bought their son a sports car for his eighteenth birthday. There wasn’t a day in Jean’s live that went past without her regretting. More. Please,’ was all she could say, repeating Please over and over again. Somehow Manolito ended up on his knees, his hands sensually trailing up her leg until his hands were under her dress. Looking up into her glazed eyes Manolito slowly began to raise the hem of her dress until he had it up around her waist, baring her thatch of golden curls. Hmph, where did my underwear go off to?, she wondered. Then it came crashing back. Suddenly it wasn’t Manolito kneeling in front of her, promising. ‘I’ll guess I will take care of myself when I’m back at home.’ ‘Or…you can have your relief right here, right now! Come on, Kate. Don’t be a chicken. I can take care of that itch.’ Mortified and in a loss for words, Kate stared at her friend as Lanie’s mouth came dangerously near her chin. She couldn’t react. She didn’t want to back off. She really wanted to know what Lanie was up to. And Castle’s demeanor didn’t help at all when he was with her. She was afraid of him. She was too afraid of. I guess my adverse feelings put me into a submissive grouping of women who needed to feel more feminine. I remember a lecture in school talking about prehistoric life of hunter gatherers, and how women were subjected to a harsh existence and used by many males for the sake of procreation, that thought alone left me sitting in soaked panties, as I fantasised men using me for sex while others queued, for their turn.Sex is real for women, more so than for men I believe, as we are the c***d bearers.