Though it was dark outside, she was able to see dimly by the ghostly light of a street lamp in front of her modest house. She propped herself up on her elbows, trying to take deep breaths in an effort to will her body quiet and relaxed so she could sleep, and the slight breeze played over her now-exposed flesh. She could see her own full contours stretching down in front of her. She was still beautiful, she had to admit. The rounded peaks of her firm breasts stood up defiantly and she could look through the canyon between them down to the soft golden pubic triangle at the junction of her thighs that proved that she was a natural blonde. She was proud of it – and yet, she thought, it was the reason for all of her insomnia now. She lay back down, still conscious of her nakedness, and she placed her palms under her full breasts and lifted them still higher until they stood out in full bloom. She held their nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, tweaking them gently into erection. It was exciting to remember that Robert had done the same with his strong, warmly loving fingers many times in the past, and the very recollection of her husband's love aroused her. Her hands moved down from her breasts to the smoothness of her stomach, through the soft golden patch of her gently throbbing vaginal mound, and across her well-rounded thighs.