He sat back on his heels, still holding her legs, with a smile that quickly faded into concerned shock."Nooo! No!" she wailed. Her cries of pleasure h...d turned to real crying as tears of frustration and need traced down her cheeks. She panted and wept, slumped against the couch unmindful of his surprise. "Oh no, my darling, what is it?" he asked, gently pulling her into his arms. She pressed her face into his neck, wetting his skin with her tears. He stroked her hair and she calmed quickly,. The next morning, I made sure to wake up before he did and watched him sleeping, glad that he didn't snore. Seeing him with his eyes closed, his gentle breathing, I wondered what it was that made him so cruel to the young women he seduced, what pain, what anger? Was it revenge for some hurt? My writer's mind wanted to know what made this handsome man, so vile. It was chilly so I put on his white shirt over my peasant blouse, and tiptoed into the other room. I glanced at my sneakers and wondered. Judging from the expressionof the model in the picture 'riding the keg', she didn't need to guess atwhat must be happening where the models crotch met the saddle. "Who the hell would send me such a thing",she thought. At 26 the petite high school teacherlooked as young and as fit as many of her students. Getting an occasional'sex relief' fuck when she was in the mood was never a problem for her. Mostof her male friends were very much aware of her availability. So "Who wouldsend me a. I’ve seen a man leave the flat but I assume he may be her son. He could be her lover but I wouldn’t dare to guess. I can hope!To be truthful, I’ve watched Barbara at lot tending the garden, bending over and showing me her behind from the window. I imagined peeling off some of those hot washing line knickers and taking good care of her.Some call me a spy. Some call me an admirer. I call myself a slight voyeur looking for a good image to wank off to. I stroke my cock and think about Barbara.