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When I got into my forties, I preferred mature, intelligent, well educated, middle aged women whose bodies had aged well. The women I choose to enjoy have only made love to their husbands and me (although we hope their husbands do not learn about me). These women are active in the PTA and various charitable organizations. They attend church with their families and exude proper, middle class respectability.

Once when in a church with my wife I saw one of the wives I had only made love once. She blushed. I smiled at her, remembering the pleasure we had enjoyed together. I undressed her with my eyes, recalling her large, round breasts with the hard nipples, the soft, smooth, warm flesh of her body, her hourglass figure with her small waist and her rounded hips that perfectly framed her vulva, her athletic thighs, the way her well lubricated vagina welcomed my penis, and the way her copulatory movements synchronized with mine when I entered her.

By the time I ejaculated into her she had climaxed several times. Now I saw her in the coffee hour after the church service with her tasteful, modest dress that concealed her slender curves, her husband, her two teenage daughters, and her beautiful face that was pink with embarrassment. She obviously regretted her behavior with me, but she loved it at the time.

When admiring her I remembered how she looked when she was naked, and too aroused to resist me. She was one of the most desirable and enjoyable women I have ever made love to, second only to my wife. I wished I could do it again, and wanted to walk over and talk to her, but I knew better, so I left the coffee hour with my wife, who seemed aware of what was happening, and who smiled faintly.