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Perhaps that accounted for Jane's gasps as I doubt that I ever made such noises during sex back in my younger days.

Something pushed me into deciding to go for it, to actually masturbate. Whether it was the live show pornography right by me or the aroma of sex that was filling the room or the realisation that my daughter was now sounding as though she was destined for her second orgasm, I can't be sure.

I do know that I slowly spread my thighs, raising my knees the minimum in an attempt at being discrete. My hand was already in position to commence my self-pleasuring. I moistened my thumb and drew it over my nub. I gave myself two fingers of penetration although truthfully I was again imagining what Jane was getting by way of penetration and, if I'm really truthful, I felt some jealousy. I somehow reminded myself that a sequence of many past boyfriends had the pleasure of her body, a lot of pleasure in some cases, and I was content for it to occur under my roof - even if I didn't particularly like on or two of the boys concerned. I preferred it to her having sex in some sordid setting. I suppose it could be that I was living vicariously through Jane at that time, imaging her naked writhing with a naked man in her bed, rapt in passionate sex.

I have only ever had one man. If I am honest, it was the lack of nerve rather than the lack of opportunity that had maintained that fact. Before I met my husband-to-be, I had a rather wary view of the young men I went out with. I certainly never let any of them have sex with me. I suppose my rather staid rules were that after going out for a certain length of time I allowed limited access to my breasts but certainly not revealing them. If the relationship lasted a few weeks longer I let the wandering hands into my knickers and I allowed a finger to penetrate. Despite the incessant urging on, there was no chance that I would perform oral sex on any of them.

To be frank, I was masturbating by that time in my early life, although seemingly I was a late starter. I was urged into it by my close friend, Kate, who to my embarrassment, insisted on showing me how it was done by making me watch her and then she made me try it right before her eyes. Despite the circumstances of her watching me, I admit that I climaxed very heavily in front of Kate, quite lost in the throes of my first ever orgasm. We did that a few times together after that but never to each other. I think that experience influenced my decision to tell Jane about masturbation at that early age.

During my marriage I very nearly strayed once when a man we had met on holiday contacted me afterwards. On the holiday, we had flirted a few times and I had enjoyed the attention. We arranged to meet and he very nearly seduced me. I suppose I had wanted to find out what sex with a different man would be like but my lack of nerve prevented me from taking the plunge. I'll admit that we kissed and we had a bit of a fumble. I held his aroused penis through his trousers and he caressed my breasts with his hand inside my bra but my courage failed before any clothes came off. Most of me had wanted to take the plunge, have sex with him, feel him penetrate me fully, caress me and pleasure me. But that bit of me that stops me from doing anything adventurous won the day and I stopped us going any further. I still wonder what it would have been like if I had let it go on. I suppose I regret the lost opportunity now.

Even as a widow, I still hadn't made that move, though. So, in certain respects I am envious of Jane and her comparatively large number of sex partners and of her very active sex life too.

However, back to my main story.

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