" But Jane persisted bytelling me, "I guess I'm wondering about it because some ofthe things that you talk about in your stories, well, I justdon't ge... it. Like I was just reading about this G spotthing. And I don't know what you're talking about. I wish Iknew what to do."So I explained it to her, and then I guess I just decided togo for broke. All this talk about sex was making me more andmore bold. I said "If you show me what it is that you aredoing when you masturbate, maybe I can help you. I’ve been thinking about having sex with him. He must be so horny and alone since my mother has packed on the pounds. He’s an easy target and enjoys when I flirt with him. I see him checking out my body. I know he likes what he sees.I walked upstairs into my room and took off my clothes. I took a white tank top from my closet and put it on. I didn't wear a bra because I wanted my nipples to poke out. I grabbed my white spandex bike shorts. I didn't wear any panties because I wanted him to be. There is a story to be told about the desire behind what I heard. This inhale was meant to taste, not to merely smell. A sensory not to be deprived. I notice the silhouette of my wife against the white walls, and her pants are pulled down to her thighs, her shirt is open, and that new liberal woman on her knees with her face buried in my wife's panties. I stand, I mentally adjust to the scene - remembering what I know, what I learned, telling myself not to do anything until you have a good. Her arms stretched, her fingers spreading out, her eyes closed and her jaw stretched in a long yawn. Through the thin white cloth of her summer nightdress showed her milk-white waist and her back, her large breasts and her wide hips. Her warm body was as taut as a bow then she let herself go into her day. She flung the white lace dressing-gown matching her nightdress around her shoulders and walked quickly out onto the open veranda around the inner courtyard of the family quarters. Strong.