Tales 01 +PICS

All characters in sexual situations are 18 years of age and older.

Text with kind approval © gurgy

Thank you kenji for your assistance

***

The house bell rang. Daniel Brown was reading.

He put the book aside and opened the door. In front of him was a well dressed woman in fashionable clothes, in matching stockings with elegant shoes and a leather bag. The woman seemed angry, her face did not match her well-groomed appearance.

She swung her hair to one side and put her hands on her hips.

"Are you Mr. Brown?"

"Yes I am."

"Do you coach sports for teenagers over there by the creek?"

"Yes, once a week... well, teenagers is not entirely correct, they must be over 18 to participate."

"I'm Aubrey Summer."

"Ah! You are Angela's mother! I'm happy about that, Angela plays in our group. What brings you here, Mrs. Summer?"

She took a deep breath and explained with a threatening undertone, "My daughter says she was molested by you."

"What? I bothered Angela? What do you mean?"

"You molested her when she... well, eh, how should I say this," she searched for the words, "when she disappeared in the forest... to pee."

Mr. Brown looked a little embarrassed. He looked left and right, then justified himself, "Well, it's not like that, I'm not bothering anyone."

"The day before yesterday, my daughter confessed to me that she had peed in front of your eyes near the sports field... an incredible thing!"

Mr. Brown looked at her angry face, stroked his hair, and tried to answer, "Please calm down, Mrs. Summer, and let me explain this to you. There are, in fact, no toilet facilities at the sports field, and the girls... oh, I think I'd best show you over there. Wait, I'll just quickly get my shoes."

As they made their way to the sports facility, Mr. Brown took the liberty of looking at this woman from the side. Mrs. Summer was clearly Angela's mother, both of them had these lovely looks. However, Angela didn't seem to have inherited her open and friendly nature from mama, because her mother just stared straight ahead as her nostrils flared.

Nonetheless, he had the impression that her anger was a facade, because when they arrived at the sports field, she stopped and cast an expectant look at the cloakroom, which did not match her previous anger. He rummaged in his pocket, took out a key, and opened it.

Mrs. Summer stuck her head through the pushed open door, frowned, and whispered, "It's pretty tight in here."

"Yes, unfortunately," he agreed, "we only have one changing room for everyone, girls and boys, and there is no shower, either."

She walked into the room and Mr. Brown watched Mrs. Summer turn on her axis.

He knew this beguiling swing of the hips from Angela, and in fact, her mother had calmed down a bit, because suddenly there was curiosity in her voice, "Well, doesn't that bother the girls when they get the boys?... "

He waved, "Oh, most of them don't even need to change their clothes here, they live nearby. But they still do it in the clubhouse. Some girls complain that the boys are watching them change, but they stay here a week later."

"Has Angela complained, too?"

"Yes, actually every time. As a coach, I have the privilege of having my own cubicle, which is quite small, but that way, the girls who are embarrassed can change their panties in my changing room."

"Where is this cabin?"

"On this side."

He went to a sliding door, opened it, and stepped inside. Mrs. Summer followed him, she pressed herself against the wall with her back and hands, "There's no room in here at all."

Mrs. Summer stood directly in front of Mr. Brown and was barely able to move. She looked worriedly at the bench, "Of course, you go out when the girls change here."

"Yes, of course! You can see how tight it is in here."

Mrs. Summer raised her head and looked into the eyes of the person opposite, wondering whether that was really the look of a libertine who tried to hide his misdeeds with flimsy arguments. She wanted to know more.

"Angela told me that you helped her get changed."

"I see! Yeah, the last time. Well, Angela stormed into my cabin with the request to be allowed to change here... actually, she hadn't asked me; then, she was suddenly in here."

"My Angela?"

"Before I could go out, she sat on the bench. She pushed down her panties and complained about the perverts out there. I wanted to leave the cabin, but she held her fresh panties in front of my face and asked me to help her." He shrugged his shoulders, "What could I do, Mrs. Summer? She blocked my way with her cute panties."

Mrs. Summer hesitated, her mind racing. Somehow it seemed believable what he was saying, and she knew her daughter all too well. Did Angela only tell half the truth in the end? Still, she decided to stay upset, "Go out anyway, you lecher."

Mr. Brown took a deep breath, "I wanted that. I tried to take the panties away from her when they fell to the floor. I bent down and picked them up. When I straightened up, Angela had put her hands on the bench and already pulled up her legs. She stretched out her feet to me and waited for me to help her into her panties, at the same time I was busy slamming the door to at least hide it from the boys' eyes."

Mrs. Summer looked at the bench, as if she was trying to picture her daughter there.

In fact, at home they both moved more than freely. Last week they had embarrassed Uncle Henry when he was over for tea. They sat across from him on the couch and had their thighs open just enough for Henry to discover that mother and daughter were wearing nothing under their skirts.

Until she realized that Angela was on the verge of going further with the game. Only the possible talk in the family had saved her from that, so she had gently thrown the confused uncle out after half an hour.

Mrs. Summer sighed, "So here is where you put her panties on."

"I was insecure, Mrs. Summer... yes, I did it here."

She continued to look at the bench, almost feeling sorry for Mr. Brown. That despondent voice couldn't possibly belong to a molester, and one would hardly look as good as the man before her. Her daughter must have played the same game with him, as she had recently with Uncle Henry. Even so, she couldn't just mumble an apology and go away, so she said sternly, "You were staring between the legs of Angela."

"Where else should I look? You can see how little space is in here. When you put on a pair of panties, you have to make sure you're not doing anything wrong."

For a moment, Mrs. Summer imagined that she was sitting on the bench instead of her daughter and that this polite gentleman would pull her panties over her bare bottom. When she felt heat in her cheeks, she shook herself inwardly and hurriedly slipped out of the changing room.

Mr. Brown, amazed at her sudden rush, followed her outside and locked the door. As the woman turned her back to him with crossed arms, he looked for a topic with which to distract her from her daughter.

"As I mentioned, there is no toilet facility here. The girls don't like to go behind the bushes on the creek bank. They have complained several times that the boys are chasing after them to watch them pee."

Mrs. Summer turned her head, her previous indignation had given way to open interest, "The boys watch the girls pee?"

"Yes," he cleared his throat, "of course that won't work, so the girls climb a little way up the forest here." He pointed to the wooded slope with his hand.

Mrs. Summer looked up, "Looks pretty dangerous."

"Well, not that dangerous; after all, we play sports. However, a girl did sprain her ankle in the process. Since then, some have been afraid to climb up and have asked me to accompany them."

"And the others on the sports field have to wait until the girl has finished peeing and you've come back?"

"No, that always happens at the end of the training."

"Well, if the girls don't have to pee until the end of their training, why don't they wait until they're home? You said that most of them live nearby."

"A legitimate question, Mrs. Summer, I've already thought about that. On the other hand... how long can you wait if you have to pee urgently?"

A blush of shame shot across Mrs. Summers' face. The gentleman's friendly appearance did not match his outrageous words; but most of all, his remark reminded her that she, herself, had to pee. Could he see that?

She pushed the thoughts aside, put her arms around her upper body and continued relentlessly, "And as I heard, you also gave Angela your help."

"Oh," replied Mr. Brown, "I'm just playing the chaperone, although deer and hares don't even get lost there."

He pointed to the wooded hill, "There is a small forest clearing up there. I'll accompany the girls up. Of course, I will wait a good distance until the girl has finished her business and then bring her down again."

He suggested, "You know what? When you see the place, you will be able to convince yourself of the harmlessness of the matter. It is within easy walking distance."

Mrs. Summer looked worriedly at her high heels; but before she could protest, Mr. Brown had disappeared into the bushes at the edge of the forest.

She followed him unwillingly. When she caught up with him, the terrain began to rise. As she stalked along the barely visible path behind him, he asked, "What do you do for a living, Mrs. Summer?"

"I run a small fashion house."

"One can see that, you have a magical figure."

Mrs. Summer gave something like a smile behind the serious expression on her face, she could hear in his voice that his compliment was meant honestly. Although she gradually relaxed, she was careful to maintain her hypothermic demeanor.

The last stretch was quite steep. Mrs. Summer was a bit shaky in her shoes. At times, she reluctantly sought support on the arm of Angela's PE teacher. Then she slipped, one leg slid down the slope, and she clung to his shoulder.

When she pulled the leg back, the shoe was gone. Mr. Brown spotted it under the brush, "I see it, Mrs. Summer. If we both bend down, I'll get it."

He leaned cautiously and held out his hand for the shoe. She moved down with him, clutching even tighter.

"There! I have it," he called, showing her the shoe and examining it. "Everything is still intact. I'll help you put it on."

He grabbed her lower leg, put it on his knee and pulled the shoe over her foot. When he let his hand rest on her leg for a second too long, Mrs. Summer realized with embarrassment that she was enjoying the soft warmth and secretly regretted it when he withdrew his hand.

She got up and said curtly, "Many thanks."

After taking a few unsteady steps, Mr. Brown stopped her, "Wait, I can still see something on your stockings." He bent down and carefully loosened a thorny twig from the nylon, gently stroked the spot and looked up at her.

"Not a single ladder, you're lucky."

His warm hand again, which rested on her thigh a moment too long. How could she be so familiar with this man, even though she had never met him before. After all, he was suspected of having molested her daughter.

She touched his arm and sighed, "Thank you, eh... hold me until we get up."

Soon they were there. Mrs. Summer was on the edge of a small clearing. On one side there was only rising forest, on the other, between thick bushes, there was a view of the sports field down below. She waved her bag in a wide arc and eyed the clearing with a disapproving look, "Well, well, this is where you took my Angela."

On the ground, there were some log-thick wooden rolls like rustic seats for a picnic. However, there was no fireplace to be found anywhere. Mr. Brown pointed to one of the blocks, "Have a seat, Mrs. Summer."

She struggled to sit on the shortened roll. With her knees pressed together and legs bent, she succeeded after several attempts.

Mr. Brown stopped and pointed around, "You see, up here the girls are shielded from indiscreet glances and can go about their business in peace. From here, you can also see whether someone is scrambling up the slope."

"Why couldn't my daughter find this place by herself? The way to this point was not dangerous at all."

She guessed the answer, because Angela was just as curious a teenager, as she was in her day. She must have felt the same bashful pleasure up here, as her mom had just now, because she saw Mr. Brown calmly inspecting her knees as he said, "Well, you, too, became a little unsure of yourself on the last steep stretch. In addition, Angela had already changed clothes after exercising, and was in her skirt. She was afraid she would slip, and thorns would scratch her legs."

Mrs. Summer tried to find a more comfortable sitting position, she grumbled, "Then come with the girl for heaven's sake; but please, wait a good distance until she has finished peeing!"

"That's what I'm doing."

She blushed, not because of his words, but because she recalled something long forgotten, and it became crystal clear. She was Angela's age when she asked her PE teacher...

She quickly tried to push the picture out of her mind, and told herself that was long ago when she was young, when she had nonsense in her head. Today, however, she was a serious businesswoman, and she would never dream of taking pleasure in that way again. Nevertheless, the picture remained.

"Where did my daughter pee?"

Mr. Brown pointed to the ground,

"Well, right in front of you, it's thick moss there."

"And where did you stand?"

He pointed in the other direction, "Over there by that tree."

Mrs. Summers' eyes followed his finger, she was horrified, "What, so close? You could be a little further back by the bushes..."

Mr. Brown stated, "Angela didn't want me to stray too far."

Mrs. Summer wanted to know, "Did she pee here regularly?"

He raised his hands in frustration, "What should I do? Angela asks me almost every time. She always drinks a lot during breaks, which is basically healthy. And at the end of the break, she asks me if I would join her after training. Your daughter has an engaging, lovable personality, so it is not easy to refuse her wish."

Mrs. Summer suspected that Angela would not have accepted a 'no' in the first place, she knew her daughter too well; and she couldn't even blame her, surely she was drawn to Mr. Brown, too.

Suddenly, she found it difficult to maintain the accusatory tone, "Angela told me you watched her pee up close."

Mr. Brown took a deep breath, "I think I need to explain this to you. You know how girls pee."

Mrs. Summers' face darkened as his words reminded her that her thoughts had taken on a life of their own. She had already seen herself in front of this man with her panties down, ready to drown the moss beneath her.

She woke up and hissed, "Of course I know that, after all, I'm a woman."

When the picture from before crept up again, she bit her lower lip, looked embarrassed to the side, and hoped Mr. Brown wouldn't notice her bright red cheeks.

He continued, "Angela fell over on her back the last time and got her feet tangled in her panties. She called me to help. For better or worse, I had to go to pull her up."

"Decent of you," sighed Mrs. Summer, "but then please go back to your tree. That must have been more than degrading for Angela."

"No, not at all. She asked me to stay and hold her so she wouldn't fall over again."

"What?! Are you holding hands with my daughter while she pees in front of you?"

"Well, if that's the way you want to put it. Angela needed help so I helped her. I would do that for you too, Mrs. Summer."

Why did Mr. Brown say that? Did he know that she had to go badly?

She looked through the bushes blankly and heard his voice from afar, "So I crouched down with Angela and held her hands."

Mrs. Summer appeared, to have found her indignation and tossed to him, "You fiend, you watched my daughter pee!"

"Where else should I have looked? She was crouching right in front of me. Angela waited until it started to flow out of her, then looked me in the eye the whole time, as if to make sure that I was watching her."

"Aren't you ashamed of telling me something like that?" Mrs. Summer queried indignantly, but her voice sounding weak.

"No, I'm not ashamed, and I didn't get the impression that your daughter was ashamed of it. She watched me watch, for her it seemed to be more than fun."