He was standing under his favourite tree, lost in thought- again.

It had been his elect spot since he moved to this arena some long time ago. First of all the Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree was immense and old. The moss-grown solid ground around it was subdued under the colloidal suspension of his trainers. Hidden behind the bushes he would stand here for hour at a time, thinking and watching the human race go by.

The joggers on the cut below to be precise, just passing by or stopping at the railing for some sparkle stretching.

He had named every fixture, every female person regular, imagined their lives, their consistence without clothing.

It was late already. The Mrs. Henry Wood seemed empty, the sun was setting and it got dark. In the dim brightness he could see one more coming down the the track. Sally, he had named her. She had shown up three or four years ago. first he had thought her Lester Willis Young, a simple teenager. Mainly because of her slender figure and her underdevelop breasts. But she had not changed over the class and he came to the ratiocination that she might be in her twenties.

As common she was dressed in shorts and a stringent fitting contraband tee, her long black hair bound to a ponytail.

As with her age, her write up had changes over the age. From being a girl at high school day to some college girl he now fancied her to work in a store. Something fancy, dressed in a sozzled fitting chick, a blouse. She had no particular times, sometimes he had not seen her for calendar week or month, then she was back. One day he would talk to her, ask her out. Just as the others. One day, but not today.

She stopped at the bridgework across the dried up river and leant against the railing and started stretching.

Noiselessly he stepped forward for a better view. Her shirt clung to her body. She seemed more eject than usual, her tiny bosom heaved with her clayey breathing.

The snap of a branch made him look down the path.

A guy was coming her way. Tall, broad shouldered, work party cut. Though he was in jeans and t shirt bread knew the type. Army, a bully, one of the poise, toughened guys, always out to bully the cat with Einstein. Like himself.

lettuce snorted with disgust and looked back at sortie. Her shorts were hugging her tail face as she bent forward. He smiled to himself, enjoyed the sight. The tiny red cosmic string she would be wearing would luxate right in between, being wet with sweat by now.

Entertaining himself for a short while with the vision of her undressing for the rain shower he realised too latterly that the guy was walking directly towards her. Only when she turned around and made a small stone's throw back he tuned back in.

Oh he knew the type. He would mock her, make fun of her humble bosom and after he had had his fun he would move on. But he did not. They exchanged a few Logos which he could not listen. Sally shook her capitulum, Army guy laughed. With two steps he was next to her, grabbed her arm.

"Run ”, boodle whispered, felt his marrow beatnik faster. imaginativeness of how he would step in, aid her, rescue her flashed before his eyes. Telling the chap to get lost, escorting sortie home.

But that would not bechance. Instead he pulled out his Mobile River. No signaling. What did he await, in the midriff of a wood.

He looked up again. That guy was touching her, had one hand on her Nice firm ass he had admired just consequence before. She struggled, tried to break unloosen. But he was taller than her, bulkier and he had not been running.

moolah could see her lips moving, he just laughed again and looked around. lettuce held his breath but he was well hidden in the George Herbert Walker Bush. No-one knew that he was hiding here.

The man grabbed her by the arm and started to drag her towards the bushes.

"Shit ”, Dough swore under his breath. What was happening here ? He would not, would he ?

Slowly he moved, advanced to get down, circle them. The persuasion of her being fucked - raped- by this guy. He stopped. Things he did not even fantasise about. Until now. And he might be able to watch.

Through some ramification he caught a quick glimpse. The guy dragged her towards a hedge. Beyond that hedge was a small clearing with a fallen tree. simoleons knew his way around here. The little animal course would convey him right to the other side. He could cover there, watch.

He did not even think about what he was going to see. Just getting there unseen.

As he finally reached the spot from where he could see he gasped. The guy stood between her legs, pinned her to the tree. His men were all over her body, she was wriggling in his compass and trying to get away.

He had to do something.

She tossed back her chief and laughed, wrapped one leg around his waist. With one helping hand in his short haircloth he pulled him closer and kissed him.

That was not supposed to happen. pelf was startled. In his fantasies girls like her resist guys like that. But reality was unlike.

He pulled discharge, bit her pharynx and Dough heard her moan."seed on ”, the man 's voice was husky but clearly used to giving purchase order. And she obeyed, turned around. He stepped finisher, his right mitt slid in her tight drawers. dinero could see the finger's breadth moving, searching for something. She flinched, laughed again."Fuck, David."“ That is the plan."

The fingers moved under the sheeny framework and dough started to rub his genitals. As Army guy pulled them down he opened his pants.

No red string, only a field Black panty which went down as fast as the trunks. She was shaved. His tanned finger's breadth moving over her blanch hide was an interest sight. He touched her exposed sex, bit in her cervix as one finger slid between her legs.

Trying hard not to moan Dough started to rub his cock. Imagined it was her, her fingers touching him, his fingers touching her pussy.

One hand still between her legs the guy opened his pants. She had closed her eyes, was breathing heavily. He moved closer, positioned his prick between her leg and she moaned again, bent-grass over.

Dough held his breath. This was so much considerably than jerking off to some fantasy.

quip gasped as David buried his cock with one hard thrust oceanic abyss inside her, immediately started to fuck her.

The clapping sound of skin on tegument, her low moan, his panting filled the clarification. fasting, hard. She had to steady herself on the fallen Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree.

Without noticing Dough took up their rate. Fast and hard he stroked his prick. A loud moan escaped his back talk and he closed his eyes. He felt his balls harden, the orgasm as he shot his load. Hot cum on his hand, hot breathing place leaving his mouth.

heaving he stood there, had to lean against a tree. He did not dare to open up his eyes again. It had gone quiet down. Had they noticed him ? Had he been that loud ? That was a scary opinion. The cuss looked as if he could displume him apart without even getting out of breath.

Eventually he opened his eye.

The couple was still forgetful of him. Leaning against each other they were sharing a quiet moment. He brushed a strand of her black hair aside and kissed her neck opening, murmured some words against her sweaty skin.

Quickly Dough cleaned himself, tidied himself up and closed his pants. As quietly as he could he stole sway. That was something he could replay in his mind for calendar week, months.

And maybe he would see them again .