The poor man is still stroking, a look of desperation on his face as he chases his elusive orgasm. I reach up and gently replace his hand with mine.... He is not at all hard, but not totally flaccid. I remember with a twinge of sadness how it used to be, how hard it would get, how he could control and prolong his erection to give me…and so many other women…as much as they needed, and then give them then more.I sit up so that my face is level with his crotch. I undo his belt and let his. Finally, after finishing our games, we returned to the living room for more talk and my wife sorting out the drinks for us. As she leaned over to put his drink on the end of the table I could see her tits clearly silhouetted through the jersey. I noticed that my friend kept his hands on his lap and he would occasionally adjust himself, when he thought that no-one was watching. After we had talked a while, my wife told us that she was tired and was going to bed and said goodnight to both of us.. More

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