She looked to her husband for reassurance but he was just staring at her. Eventually, she unbuttoned her trousers and allowed them to fall to the floo...r. She was wearing a black g-string, thus giving Andrew, behind her, a glorious view of her cute bottom. Andrew told her to kick her trousers to one side and then stand, facing her husband, with her legs slightly apart. He lingered behind for some time, admiring the view."Dave always did like g-strings," he murmured, "I can see why. I've often. “Is that the way you wanted it?” I asked, my own voice becoming strained and breathless. “That’s the way,” Stephanie answered, her own voice louder, “That’s the way. I just needed to be fucked hard tonight.” She took a quick breath, and added, “Sometimes,” breathing again, “you just need to be fucked hard,” pausing for another breath, “and this is one of those times.” I kept on thrusting hard, and then Stephanie kissed me on the mouth, took a breath, and said, “Glen, I think I’m going to. Those first few weeks were the worst, I let myself go to pot a little and it was the sight of myself one morning in the bathroom mirror that finally snapped me back to my senses, I was a mess and right then I determined to get back on my feet again. I started to go out again, visited the gym and so on, yet the sparkle had gone from life, before my husband's untimely death I had been described as 'vivacious' and 'sexy', usually by my husband, but I'd heard other men say it too. For a forty year. “You feel a bit tense!” she exclaimed. I nodded not wanting to break the spell with any awkward words. Next she concentrated on my arms. Both of her hands wrapped around my arms one at a time and she washed them from top to bottom. “Hold out your hands?” she asked. I held out my left hand to the side, but looked straight ahead as I did so. I felt the gel ooze onto my skin. “Wash you hair and face…” she breathed almost silently into the shower cubicle. I raised my hand to my face and proceeded.