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So, for her fifty-fifth birthday, I bought her a hot-wife ankle bracelet which I encouraged her to wear whenever we went out for the evening and on holiday.
Reading Helen’s diary took me right back to those heady and very naughty days of our youth and middle age — just memories now that I am in my eighties.
I’m not sure how much of what she wrote was factual and how much fantasy, because she always had a lively and inventive imagination, but I spent a very pleasant and arousing day reading its pages.
Now that she is sadly no longer with us, I thought it would be nice to publish a few titbits for the enjoyment of other connoisseurs of erotic adventures.
For literary purposes, I chose a representative selection of daily entries which, although they give the impression our life was one of non-stop sexual activity, were not necessarily from the same week or even the same year.
I have also changed the names of the participants, some of whom are still alive, although like me they are now all in their declining years.
ooOoo Helen’s Diary of Sexual Pleasure Monday.
Mondays are what I call my ‘girlie’ night.
Hubby Ken goes to his Rotary Club meeting on a Monday night and, as it is thirty miles away and he likes to have a drink or two with his friends, he usually stays the night in the hotel.
I’m told they allow women to join these days, but as they are certainly all very respectable and probably ugly as old boots. Teacher glory hole.
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