The irony was that Joan had not even thought she missed making love. She gave herself an orgasm once every two or three weeks, but otherwise, she almost forgot she was a sexual woman.

The episode taking place in the living room of her rented country house was fast reminding her just what a sexual woman she was.

Joan was awestruck by the enthusiasm with which the boy and girl were groping at each other and by the apparent size of the boy's hard cock, as he kneeled over his blonde girl friend and rammed his fingers more urgently into her cunt. The erotic heat that seemed to come bursting out at her through the picture window, and engulf her in an excitement that brought perspiration out on her arms and forehead, was contagious.

The day was already hot when Joan had herself dropped off near the house by one of the two local taxis. The heat, though, was nothing compared to the fire that engulfed her now.

Joan felt alive again. Just watching the eager youngsters seemed to wrench the brunette out of the realm of lonely, deserted wives and into the league of hungering, full-blooded women. She felt her cunt flare with moist desire.

"Oh Billy… do you really think we should? Will you still respect me, Billy? You won't tell anyone, will you?" The girl was saying all the words that she obviously had said on other occasions. She did not even wait for answers between questions. She seemed uninterested in answers. Her mind was on her lust and those two hard-working fingers.

From outside the window, Joan watched the boy push his advantage. She watched him poise his swaying swollen cock over the girl's tight blonde pussy. She caught her breath as he pushed her thighs wider apart. Instead of protesting further, the teen-aged girl raised her legs and wrapped them around the boy's back. From there, it was an easy matter for him to slip his wet fingers from her cunt and replace them with the hot eager shaft of his cock.