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She continues to caress her breasts and body, letting her fingertips run over her covered nipples and then down over her sexy underwear over her pussy. My eyes are glued and she has my full attention now. I can feel my stomach twist a little with anxiety, and my mind begins to race as I wonder what she has in store for me. The anticipation is electric and my cock stirs instantly stiffening in my pants. I continue to watch the screen as she removes her bra releasing her perfect breasts. Her sexy. As I pulled away, I saw him grinning. “You too?” he smiled. “Of course!” I smiled even bigger. “I’ve loved you for, like, ever! I still can’t believe you like me back!” “Please, Kelsey. Look at yourself,” he replied, letting his eyes travel up and down my body. “You’re beautiful!” “Not like Sophia, though,” I grumbled. He shook his head. “Come upstairs.” I gulped and followed him into him room. He led me to a full length mirror just inside his closet. “Look,” he commanded. And I did. And all I. The girl could be a porn star. If she got that nose fixed. We got a booth, we played footsies. I bought her dinner, she rewarded my generosity with a conjugal visit to my frugal digs—an efficiency in a high-rise close to the office. It didn’t take me long to discover Chastity wasn’t chaste. Most of our buzz had faded from our drinks before dinner, so I broke out my bottle of Jameson, the Catholic Irish whiskey, hoping it would facilitate a religious experience. Half a bottle later, Chastity. Life was good. A few grey hairs, so what? Nothing a hairdresser couldn't fix.Then came the warnings, hot and cold but brushed aside. Soon after my fifty-third birthday, however, it didn’t happen. It wobbled, then it was a no show.My period missed, not one month but the next and by the third I knew, puberty in reverse, part of me gone, eggless, post-menopausal. I fretted and checked there were no sprouting lip hairs in the mirror and worried.Am I still a woman?Compounding my doubts, was hubby's.
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