“Hey, let’s take a break," he called to her. Salma braked hard and the bike slid across the gravel onto the grass lining the dirt road they were o.... Her face was shiny with sweat when she turned to him. “What is it, wee-wee break?” “Nah, I just need to rest a bit.” She frowned. “I thought you were in better shape than that.” When he got off the bike and walked to sit down on a fallen tree trunk, she saw what the problem was. “Oh, oh, I see. Sure, take your time.” Seb blushed. “I’m sorry.” “What. I glance towards my husband and I can see he is enjoying the view, his hands gently caressing the bump under his smart suit pants. I slip on the skirt, then pull up each of the long, white knee-high socks and hear his groan as he glimpses my crotch, wet behind it's material barrier. Just as I'm desperately trying to button up my tighter than tight white blouse, the doorbell rings. "Damn trick or treaters." I curse as I continue to fumble. "Well, go and open the door." My husband says, smiling. I loved those feelings, I loved being a useless wanker, a perv, and I loved the power girls had over me, and they still do. I had early experiences in clubs and the like, and narrow escapes. Never again. So, where to go to see for real? I don’t spy, and never did. I don’t need or want to see nudity so not for me hanging round the back of the local pool, or peeping through windows, hiding in the woods overlooking the nudist beach etc etc. I did park up overlooking the beach, and just wait, and. Clive awoke with a start. His delicate hands stopping short of his eyes and reminding him that it wasn't a bad dream, he was lying on a bed, the ceiling was white. He hadn't been in this room, he was alone, his chest ached. His unfamiliar hands moved to find the source of the problem and settled on the fleshy orbs that he had been given. He let a sob escape, now in a slightly scratchy, but definite soprano. Defensively his hands flew down to his groin but found security as they landed upon his.