Tales 01 +PICS

Mrs. Summer looked again into the foliage of the bushes and asked hesitantly, "And you?... did you... like it too?"

"To help Angela?"

"No, watch her."

Mr. Brown cleared his throat, "Angela wanted to know that, too. But before I could react, she asked me if I had something to dry her pussy, fir needles were still stuck to her bottom. I had tissues with me."

Mrs. Summer shifted back and forth on her wooden roll, her legs squeezed tightly together. When a cramp started to appear in her thigh, she gave up the resistance, pushed her knees apart and tried to find new support with her feet.

She said exasperated, "All right, then, in God's name, you gave her the handkerchiefs and waited to the side until she got dressed."

Mr. Brown didn't answer, instead glancing unabashedly under her skirt. Mrs. Summer tried to press her knees together, but the tugging in her thigh did not allow it... and again the memories of her own gym teacher... how she liked it when his eyes wandered around under her skirt.

Mr. Brown continued, "I wanted to give Angela the handkerchiefs and wait at the edge of the clearing, but she held me back. She took off her panties completely and crouched on the edge of one of these wooden rolls."

Mrs. Summer paused again and looked through him with wide eyes. Mr. Brown, once more, took the opportunity to look at her stockings. These only reached up to her thighs, the panties dug themselves delicately into her crevice and showed off her good taste, just as the rest of the clothing did.

When Mrs. Summer took a deep breath, her voice sounded almost reverent, "My daughter... crouches down with her legs apart and bare bottom... and you, Mr. Brown... just look between her legs..."

Again, she felt his eyes under her skirt. She had to get up urgently, she couldn't give the impression that she would like to sit in front of him in such an embarrassing position. She shook herself, but found that her legs were not working. A cold chill ran down her spine as she admitted that she was helpless at the mercy of his eyes, as well as this embarrassing comfort that began to stubbornly lodge in her abdomen.

"You guessed right," he replied, "Angela pushed up her skirt and asked me if I could do this for her."

"What, my daughter is asking her sports teacher to clean her bottom?"

"Admittedly, I was a little confused, but I assumed that she needed help. Angela didn't refuse me, on the contrary, when I got a handkerchief ready, she spread her legs to give me access to her bottom."

Mrs. Summer put herself in her daughter's position. How undignified and yet, exciting at the same time, to let this man wipe your dripping labia. Was Angela seduced by those gentle eyes, too? She didn't notice that her legs slipped apart at the thought.

She bravely held her gaze and uttered, "So indecent! My daughter asks you to dab her pussy."

Again, she paused and looked around. She noticed that her thighs no longer pinched, she could even move her toes again. Only now did she look down at herself and saw that her legs were splayed wide apart. The reflex to close them failed, even when she saw Mr. Brown staring mesmerized under her skirt as if he were counting the stitches on the fabric of her panties.

She took a breath, in search of corrective words, but only managed an empty swallow, which made her feel as if warm honey was flowing down her throat and spreading comfortably in her stomach.

When he said nothing more, she asked haltingly, "Did you... like it, too?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, eh... did you love it... I mean, did you enjoy watching my daughter pee... and drying her pussy?"

"May I speak openly?"

"Yes, I am asking."

"Yes, I did, very much. Angela is extremely pretty, her whole being... which can also be seen between her legs. I especially like her curved labia."

Mrs. Summer ran through it hot and cold. Was she really about to talk to the PE teacher about her daughter's labia? And why did she get a tingling excitement, when he was standing in front of her and studying her panties?

And why could she not contain herself, as she continued to ask, "Did Angela like it, so naked... in front of you?"

"Yes, she told me when we were going down the hill. She's crazy about the game... to be honest, we both are." He gave Mrs. Summer a warm smile, "I can't shake the impression that it's not just Angela who has this preference."

She was startled, "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, Mrs. Summer, the way you are sitting in front of me. You are Angela's mother, certain preferences are passed from one generation to the next."

"You don't mean to say that I am, too?... "

Mrs. Summer fell silent when she realized that the more openly Mr. Brown's eyes rummaged between her thighs, the more her legs had opened... and that the humiliating feeling had turned into secret pleasure.

He continued undeterred, "I'll take a look under your skirt."

Her protest sounded more like a dull approval, "I can see that, you flail. Just because I can't defend myself on this stupid block of wood; you shamelessly take advantage of my helplessness."

"As I said, you have taste, including underneath your skirt. Your enchanting legs, those delicate stockings, and most of all, the lovely panties..."

"Do you like them? They are from my new collection."

"Very ... but a little little light under the dress, I can't tell whether the lingerie is made of silk."

Mrs. Summer didn't understand herself anymore when she pulled up her skirt and asked, "Better this way?"

"Wonderful," sighed Mr. Brown, contemplating. Mrs. Summer felt how her tension gave way to the irrepressible pride of a schoolgirl who showed her teacher a job well done. She felt honored when he knelt on the ground in front of her and asked politely, "May I touch your stockings? I like this shiny fabric."

She nodded softly, immediately felt the warmth of his hands on her knees and followed his eyes, which wandered back and forth between her thighs. She had to admit that she still liked to be exposed to prying eyes, as in the past.

Although she tried to defend herself against it with pressed lips, she gave herself up to the feeling of wellbeing, but suddenly the stinging in her stomach became urgent. Mrs. Summer shifted back and forth on the stool and mumbled coyly, "I drank a little too much tea in the shop, and then all your talk about Angela, now I really have to go myself."

She raised her hand in defense, "I don't need any help, so please go behind the bushes back there and turn around. I'll call you when I'm done."

Mr. Brown eyed the thick carpet of moss that covered the ground.

"Do you think you can do it without help in your high heels?"

She looked down, "I do not know?..."

"I think you will sink into the soft forest floor and tumble over like Angela; but I can help you."

Mrs. Summer breathed. "I can't pee in the presence of a man, especially not when he's watching me. Surely I would be ashamed of myself."

"Angela was not ashamed."

Mrs. Summer moved her upper body back and forth. The pressure was becoming unbearable, and she was about to burst.

Mr. Brown's words brought her back, "I'm not ashamed to pee in the presence of a girl, either."

She was amazed, "Are you telling me you peed in front of my daughter?"

"We do it together, me first, then her. Angela wants to hold my penis while doing it."

As he said this, he unzipped his pants, took out his half-erect penis, and pushed his hips forward, "As I said, I like to do it in front of girls. Especially in front of those who like to watch."

Mrs. Summer watched open mouthed and wide eyed as Mr. Brown relieved himself in front of her.

What she had already observed several times in disgust from a distance at a roadside, now fascinated her in a strange way. This hanging limb from which a thick stream shot and sank silently into the moss in a wide arc... the discovery, what a beautiful cock he showed her... and a slight despair at how long she hadn't seen such a sight.

When the last drop fell, Mr. Brown turned to her, limb still in hand. Mrs. Summer stared at the tip of his penis, her head flushed, as if she were waiting for more.

He said, "May I ask a favor of you, like your daughter asked me? Will you dry my willy, please?"

Mrs. Summer, disturbed, reached for her bag and took out a handkerchief. As she straightened up with it, Mr. Brown's thick member dangled in front of her face. As if hypnotized, she took it and dabbed the last droplets from the tip, carefully and with pauses in between to check whether she had really caught every wet stain.

The member straightened up visibly, and Mrs. Summer watched in panic at his growing boner.

Mr. Brown's voice made her wince, "And? Did I guess right?"

"What do you mean?"

"You like it, too?... watching?"

Mrs. Summer felt caught, cleared her throat and looked ruefully into his eyes, "I was just helping you, Mr. Brown."

"Do you think you can pee now?"

She was torn, "I don't know, I think I'm ashamed to death... somehow I want... I have to, otherwise I'll get my pants wet."

Mrs. Summer stared for a few seconds at his boner, which was still sticking out of his pants, made up her mind and looked up at him with a pleading look, "I'll try ... but please, don't put away your uh... penis, maybe that will help."

Mr. Brown reached into his pants and pulled out the rest of his manhood. His member now stretched in full length. "Okay then?"

"Oh... eh... yes, stay like this, I just have to pull my panties down quickly."

"Wait, your skirt is really tight; better let me help you. Get up and lean on that tree."

She obeyed his instructions, got up and stood in front of the tree. By the time she rested her hands on the bark, Mr. Brown was already kneeling on the ground behind her, gathered up her skirt and grasped the sides of her panties. Then nothing happened for a while.

Waiting in this embarrassing posture gave her a devoted tingling sensation that she would have indulged in for hours, if it hadn't been for this pinching in her stomach.

She whimpered, "Hurry up, I can't take it any longer."

He rocked the laundry down to her ankles and instructed her, "Please lift one foot at a time."

When he pulled her panties off her high heels, she was finally able to open her legs, which eased the pressure in her stomach. She sighed in relief and pushed her bottom back. Mr. Brown put his hands on her hips and looked at the two bare globes above her thighs, the pink band of skin that snaked through her crevice, and sank into his contemplation again.

Mrs. Summer was so relieved that the stinging in her stomach paused, which made her enjoy his looks. She felt his eyes tender and penetrating at the same time on her labia. So much so that she wanted to stand forever and listen to his soft voice.

"You are so lovely to look at, Mrs. Summer. There's no need to hide..."

"You lecher..." she moaned, "of course, I'm ashamed... this is something of... I can't defend myself at all..."

Mr. Brown put a kiss on her left buttock, then on the right, "You have a nice pussy, Mrs. Summer. Angela has followed her mother's course, she even inherited her labia."

She gasped, "Don't torment me... otherwise I'll be... Mr. Brown, if you look at me this way... but I really have to pee!"

He got up, stepped to her front and took her hands, "Go down, I'll hold you."

When he crouched down with her, the woman was like wax in his hands. His gaze wandered between her thighs and her face. She stared spellbound at his erection sticking straight out of his pants, concentrated, then closed her eyes and tried to relax.

Mrs. Summer waited for the redeeming ray, but nothing happened. With closed lids she whimpered, "I can't... strange, I'm not ashamed... it's so exciting that you... anyway..."

She opened her eyes, fixed on his erection and tentatively suggested, "Maybe it will work if I can hold onto it?"

Without waiting for his answer, she put her hand around his erection, squeezed lightly, then increasingly harder. Finally she breathed, "You are so soft, Mr. Brown, so soft and yet, so hard at the same time. I think soon... I think... oh..."

At that moment, it gushed out between her labia.

She felt his erection rear up in her hand and she replied with a long drawn out, "Yeah..."

When the moss floor had long since soaked up the moisture, Mrs. Summer was still crouching in front of Angela's sports teacher with her eyes closed, her right hand on her knee, the left tightly around his hardness, and giggling, "Dear, I peed in front of you, Mr. Brown... and you voyeur... are watching me."

She opened her eyes and grinned, "I wasn't a bit embarrassed."

"Thank you for the trust."

She sighed, "I think now, I can understand my daughter." Mrs. Summer laughed mischievously, "By the way, while I'm talking about Angela, will you dry me off too, please? I'm still all wet down there."

Mr. Brown got up, held out his hand, and bade her to sit on the wooden roll in front of the tree. Before she sat down, he knelt in front of her and pushed up the skirt that had fallen down. He put his hands on her knees and unfolded them.

Mrs. Summer noticed that she was sitting too far back, and slipped to the front edge so that he could reach every nook and cranny between her thighs. While Mr. Brown ran his free hand over her stocking-covered leg, he felt his handkerchief to her pubic cleft and dabbed it.

Mrs. Summer sighed comfortably, "It's not the first time you have done this, you rascal... go on."

Mr. Brown ventured further and pushed the cloth deep into her slit. Soon he said, "I don't think I'll get any further like this."

He put two fingers over her labia and unfolded them.

Mrs. Summer groaned, "Oh, Mr. Brown, yeah..."

The handkerchief grew wetter and the scent between Mrs. Summer's legs became increasingly sweeter.

He sighed, "I think the handkerchief doesn't really help."

"Do something," she uttered pained. He pushed his head between her thighs. My God, almost the same scent as Angela's. The perfume got him excited. His tongue slid gently through her crevice. Ecstatic groans told him that he could take all the time for it. Little by little, Mrs. Summer's breathing turned into a gasp.

Mr. Brown's tongue was deep in her pleasure channel and he felt her orgasm approaching. It was difficult for him to keep his tongue from being forced out of her pussy, because Mrs. Summer's body twitched and writhed. She lost her balance and fell sideways onto the soft moss floor. There she lay, moaning her never ending climax into the treetops.

Mr. Brown knelt in front of her head and waited for her breathing to calm. When she just sniffed softly, she opened her eyes, blinked up at him, then at his boner, which was still sticking out of his pants. Mrs. Summer lolled like a well rested child looking forward to the next day.

"Almighty, Mr. Brown, I will only pee when you are with me."

His hand brushed the side of her body. They both remained silent in smiling agreement. Mrs. Summer's gaze traveled up his erection and back down to his balls.

After a while she giggled, "I think it would be inappropriate now to reproach you about my daughter." She coughed, "Angela told me you helped her change her panties. Now that I know you a little better, I could imagine that there was more."

Mr. Brown cleared his throat, "As I said, I put the panties on Angela, and then she sat in front of me."

"And you finally went out."

"I actually wanted to, but your daughter kept staring at my pants."

Mrs. Summer looked at his erection and almost choked, "I can understand only too well, there was hardly any room for the poor fellow in there."

Mr. Brown hung his arms, "Angela started stroking her panties and asked me to do the same. When she saw that I was hesitant, she pushed her panties aside, stuck a finger in her pussy to show me what she meant."

Mrs. Summer had grasped his erection while listening, squeezed it and looked expectantly into his face, "And? Have you got your birdie out?"

When Mr. Brown nodded silently, she began to move her hand up and down on his cock. A moment later she felt him between her legs. His hand caressed its way up to her lap, fingers that playfully tampered with her labia.

She willingly opened her thighs, "And what else have you... done to my Angela...?"

Mr. Brown was already finding it too difficult to breathe to speak. Mrs. Summer didn't even wait for his answer, his lust-distorted features said everything. Little did the poor man know that she'd just taken her daughter's confession as an opportunity to get to know him better.

She wondered when she'd realized that she'd had something else in mind than just blaming him. Her thoughts evaporated as several of his fingers began to explore her pleasure grotto. Then his thumb circled around her clit.

Through streaks in front of her eyes she tried to follow her hand, which was massaging his boner. Since she could no longer keep her gaze, she bent his shaft towards her, closed her lips around it and circled the glans with her tongue.

Mr. Brown's puff mixed with her gasps. The two stared seriously in the face, as if they were making their lustful confessions to each other. Her vaginal muscles tightened and his fingers were almost squeezed out of her pleasure channel. While Mr. Brown squirted, howling, over and over again, she kept her mouth closed on the tip of his cock and made swallowing movements at short intervals.