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The plaster on the wall is rough but cool against my back as I puff away in the shade. The temporary chill is welcome, given how my work shirt sticks to my skin and sweat trickles down my face. Every so often, I wipe it off as I fan the smoke to keep a keen eye on the frolicking forms on the field. Their bi-weekly outdoor sessions are the highlight of my shifts, otherwise tedious and exhausting.The gymnastic performance isn’t half bad, but I’m not interested in any technique. I, like most men in the audience, I’m sure, am here for the bouncing breasts and the skirts that couldn’t be cut much shorter. Perfect late adolescent legs of various shapes and sizes fly high and far apart, leaving little to the imagination – just the way an old perv like me enjoys them. Once again, I lapse into a reverie that makes my already hardened cock twitch; I’ll have to make my break a little longer than a simple cigarette and swing by my private bathroom for a quick release.A collective gasp from the stands brings me back to reality. Its cause seems to be one of the girls massaging her ankle. She must’ve made a bad landing, which isn’t uncommon even among the advanced classes, Kartal Escort and this heat can play tricks on anyone. Her teammates start to crowd around her, but she wards off their concern by gesturing to the ladies’ room. I imagine her throwing a “show must go on” to their coach, who reluctantly lets her leave alone.My attention is torn between the resuming presentation and the limping gymnast, but as the latter is nearing me, I choose her. She doesn’t seem to notice me. From up close, she’s even more of a stunner than from afar. Her skin is tan, and while her hazel eyes are focused, a strange smile plays on her glossy pink lips. She wears her brown hair in long pigtails, strands of which adhere to her delicious bare shoulders. Her top is designed to both secure her breasts and reveal as much as possible without anything spilling out. It must be magic. Or possibly tape.As I discreetly observe her from the corner of my eye, her limp gradually fades, and her steps regain all the alacrity that stems from her youth and fitness. This alone would pique my interest, but as she also changes direction and heads for my shed, I turn Kartal Escort Bayan towards her altogether, for this is quite a roundabout way to the toilet! Moreover, as she disappears behind the tiny cabin, she doesn’t emerge from the other side, and a muffled exclamation suggests she has gone no further than the wall.I toss my long-extinguished cigarette and follow her, but as I round the corner, the scene startles me and I stagger back. She isn’t alone. In fact, a tall, burly man in a gray business suit has taken her in his arms, and given the lack of any resistance, the embrace appears quite voluntary.“I’m so glad you came, Daddy,” she says sweetly as the man releases her.She must’ve orchestrated the fall to see her father. It’s a bit drastic, given parents and other relatives are free to join the girls on the field after the show, but maybe there’s more to the story. So far, neither has detected me; they are engrossed in one another’s eyes.“Not yet I didn’t, baby girl,” the man says with a smirk. He glimpses at his watch. “But I don’t have long.”The phrasing catches me off guard. I take in the details: his big, possessive Escort Kartal hand on her arm, her now seductive smile, and above all, the bulge in his pants. The girl, too, glances at it and grazes it with her fingers. The man shudders. I withdraw further behind the wall, but not before she says:“You may be ready, but I need a little care before we get down to it.”As quietly as my own genuine limp allows, I enter my cabin. Two sentiments clash in my mind: understandable dismay and unprecedented titillation. The latter quickly prevails. I was already half-thinking with my cock, and now it has thoroughly won. With haste, I climb on the toilet seat under the bathroom vent window and set to spying on the odd couple. Behind the mosquito net, I must be nearly invisible.By now, the young woman has dropped to her knees on the grass, her skirt hiked up and her bare buttocks resting on her white socks. Her panties lie abandoned at her side. Her top still compresses her breasts, but she seems to have lowered it, for a hint of an areola peeps out from the cleavage. A deceptively innocent smile plays on her lips as she stares up at the man.He has opened his zipper and is taking out his noticeably throbbing penis. Mesmerized, I imitate him. Precum along with sweat has dampened my boxers, and I have to stifle a groan as I liberate myself and begin stroking my shaft. I never thought I had a penchant for this particular fetish, but my hardness tells me otherwise.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
