He was standing under his favourite Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree, lost in thought- again.

It had been his chosen spot since he moved to this area some days ago. First of all the tree was Brobdingnagian and old. The fogyish ground around it was easygoing under the soh of his trainer. Hidden behind the bushes he would stand up here for hour at a time, thinking and watching the world go by.

The joggers on the track below to be precise, just passing by or stopping at the rails for some light stretching.

He had named every regular, every female regular, imagined their life, their body without clothing.

It was late already. The Wood seemed empty, the sun was setting and it got dark. In the dim Light Within he could see one more than coming down the the path. Sally, he had named her. She had shown up three or four yr ago. start he had thought her young, a mere teen. Mainly because of her slender figure of speech and her underdeveloped breasts. But she had not changed over the years and he came to the determination that she might be in her twenties.

As usual she was dressed in shorts and a smashed fitting black tee, her long blackamoor hair spring to a ponytail.

As with her age, her story had variety over the years. From being a girl at mellow school to some college girl he now fancied her to function in a shop. Something envision, dressed in a plastered fitting skirt, a blouse. She had no particular time, sometimes he had not seen her for weeks or calendar month, then she was back. One day he would verbalize 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 beneficial view. Her shirt clung to her body. She seemed more dog-tired than usual, her bantam breasts heaved with her with child breathing.

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

A guy was coming her way. Tall, broad shouldered, crew cut. Though he was in blue jean and t shirt moolah knew the type. Army, a bully, one of the aplomb, tough guys, always out to bully the guy cable with brainpower. Like himself.

Dough snorted with disgust and looked back at Sally. Her trunks were hugging her butt impudence as she bent forward. He smiled to himself, enjoyed the sight. The tiny red string she would be wearing would slip right in between, being wet with sweat by now.

Entertaining himself for a short while with the vision of her undressing for the exhibitioner he realised too deep that the guy was walking directly towards her. Only when she turned around and made a small step back he tuned back in.

Oh he knew the type. He would mock her, pass water fun of her small breasts and after he had had his fun he would move on. But he did not. They exchanged a few words which he could not hear. Sally shook her head, Army guy laughed. With two steps he was future to her, grabbed her arm.

"Run ”, cabbage whispered, felt his heart beat faster. Visions of how he would pace in, aid her, rescue her shoot before his eyes. Telling the lad to get lost, escorting Sally home.

But that would not go on. Instead he pulled out his mobile. No signal. What did he expect, in the midsection of a wood.

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

Dough could see her lips moving, he just laughed again and looked around. boodle held his intimation but he was well hidden in the bushes. 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 breathing space. What was happening here ? He would not, would he ?

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

Through some subdivision he caught a quick glimpse. The guy dragged her towards a hedge. Beyond that hedge was a small clearing with a fallen Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree. bread knew his way around here. The small brute course would work him right to the other side. He could hide 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 branch, pinned her to the tree. His mitt were all over her body, she was wriggling in his grasp and trying to get away.

He had to do something.

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

That was not supposed to happen. scratch was startled. In his fancy girls like her rejected guys like that. But reality was different.

He pulled free, bit her pharynx and lettuce heard her moan."Come on ”, the man 's voice was hoarse but clearly used to giving orders. And she obeyed, turned around. He stepped nigh, his right hand slid in her tight drawers. lettuce could see the finger moving, searching for something. She flinched, laughed again."screwing, David."“ That is the plan."

The digit moved under the bright framework and Dough started to rub his privates. As army guy pulled them down he opened his pants.

No red bowed stringed instrument, only a plain pitch blackness panty which went down as fast as the shorts. She was shaved. His tanned fingerbreadth moving over her blench skin was an interest sight. He touched her exposed sex, bit in her neck as one finger slid between her legs.

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

One hand still between her legs the guy opened his gasp. She had closed her eye, was breathing heavily. He moved closer, positioned his dick between her legs and she moaned again, bent over.

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

sallying forth gasped as Jacques Louis David buried his prick with one heavily thrust deep inside her, immediately started to fuck her.

The clapping sound of skin on peel, her low groan, his panting filled the glade. fasting, hard. She had to steady herself on the fallen tree.

Without noticing Dough took up their pace. Fast and hard he stroked his cock. A brassy moan escaped his lips and he closed his heart. He felt his glob harden, the orgasm as he shot his load. Hot cum on his hand, hot breathing spell leaving his mouth.

trousering he stood there, had to lean against a Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree. He did not dare to afford his eyes again. It had gone quiet. Had they noticed him ? Had he been that loud ? That was a chilling thought. The bloke looked as if he could tear him apart without even getting out of breath.

Eventually he opened his eyes.

The couplet was still oblivious of him. Leaning against each other they were sharing a calm second. He brushed a filament of her Joseph Black hair aside and kissed her neck opening, murmured some Logos against her sweaty skin.

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

And maybe he would see them again .