The footsteps got closer and turned the corner just as I slipped off the path.I held my breath to see who it was, crouching there in my panties and stockings, unfortunately not well camouflaged being bright red.A man came into view a little older than me - with a bit of a 70s look - tache, longish hair centre parted., slim build. I recognised him from an encounter in a toilet where he had confidently fingered my hole to an appreciative audience.I stood up to reveal myself to him, and with a filthy smile he headed directly for me.His hands were everywhere - probing and pulling , slapping and squeezing.I didn’t have a moment to pull myself together before he had inserted three fingers deep into my wet hole. With this he was walking me around like a puppet, automatically my clit started streaming. He had total control over me through his fingers. I was left fumbling to get at his bulge and everytime I got near he pushed his fingers deeper in me.All the time he did this he was whispering. When I asked Chantal about their strange behavior, she laughed, telling me they were texting each other about the boys. Why, I wondered, couldn’t they just talk to each other? Had the art of whispering been lost?I watched Chantal while she set up the table. She passed by a laughing Bella and hugged her before moving on. Chantal was very touchy-feely today. She was full of soft smiles and glowing. Maybe it was because her daughter was turning sweet sixteen.I automatically smiled when I spotted Bella. In the last two years she’d hardly changed, yet the lady she was becoming was shining through, elegance emerging, self assured, and hints of refinement. Now as tall as her mother, she was still very slender. Part of it was due to her genes. The other due to her physical activity. She jogged with me every morning. She swam, waterskied, and loved to take Penny for long walks.Her blonde hair was still cut short at the back of her neck, progressively longer towards the front where it fell to.
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