What fascinated him about these women was that behind the distractions he could sense a verdant sexual garden, an endless playground. They needed only a gentle coaxing to allow it to emerge. They awaited the right words, the right gesture, the right touch to break through all the monotony and awaken them. Or so he imagined. He hadn’t been with a woman other than his wife for thirteen years. He'd picture her in bed, highly erotic because it was so real. He could see it: her heavy breasts in his hands, her wide hips straddling his, the slow wet ease of entering her for the first time, her gasp of charged wonder. He'd imagined it hundreds of times in those three years. Sometimes the way she looked at him seemed like she knew he was fantasizing about her, and just maybe she was fantasizing about him as well. They both stood in the same spots on the playground, every weekday. Between the two of them lay an expanse of asphalt, marked with painted yellow lines marking boundaries for. Then I asked her if she is fully satisfied, then she replied, nothing has happened beyond touching and feeling good. She was not ashamed of any thing and when I proposed her my company ,she hugged me and kissed me on my cheeks. This prompted me and I took it as a invitation and inserted my hand from the opening of her petticoat and started exploring her pubic region for some time and then inserted my finger in her already wet and lubricated cunt. She moaned with pleasure and took initiative to unbutton my shirt. In response I pulled the string of her petticoat loose. She stopped me and proposed to have a fun with added pleasure and start with drinks. She asked me to bring some thing to eat from the nearby shop. When I returned back, The center table was dressed with two glasses and two bottles of chilled strong beer. She was in a see thru kurta which was sticking with her body due to sweat. Her contours were clearly visible and I was feeling crazy about her nudity. She filled both.
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