Nights were the worst times, those nights when, only partially awake, he would reach for the lovely, silken buttcheeks and not find them. He would be wide awake then as he realized what had happened. After that, there could be no sleep for a while, not until he had numbed the hurt with whiskey and water, much whiskey and a little water.

Evenings were bad, too, especially after the kids were in bed. Those used to be among the best times as they necked in the living room until all was quiet. Those were the times when her clothes would be removed gradually, and then the fun and games would start.

The lonely evenings tortured him for months; then he tried to escape them by walking. The house safely locked, he would walk the streets until he was so tired he knew he would be able to sleep, especially if, when he returned to the house, he jacked off, as he so often did.

And then, late one evening, as he walked a quiet residential street, he noticed a movement behind an undraped window and looked again. He saw a woman in a white slip, folding her dress over the back of a chair.

Instantly, he felt guilty about peeping at her, but he couldn't stop himself from moving closer. As she caught the hem of the slip and pulled it over her head, he felt his cock stirring and knew that he would jack himself off that night, perhaps before he got home.

He stood on a spot at the top of a hill. The houses were below street level, and he could see clearly into the bedroom, could see that she was alone in the second-story room.

She took her bra off and her tits looked good, big yet firm, and she rubbed them in the way a woman does after taking off her bra; then she sat at a vanity and fiddled with her hair for a little while.

When she got up, her back turned to him, she pushed her white panties down and stepped out of them, naked, her beautiful, rather plump ass pointed right at him so that he could see the deep crack between the big oval cheeks.