She watched trembling as the African adjusted himself above her mother. Watched as her mother wriggled and thrust her hips wantonly upwards.Watched as...the African paused, then thrust. Her mother's body jerked in a spasm, as the African thrust again and his dark body sank onto the soft whiteness of her mother.Her hands dropped to her shorts. She quickly pushed down the zipper, and thrust her hand inside. It may be wrong, but she could not contain herself. Her fingers sought out her wet centre.In. "Who's there?" she demanded, twisting around to look over her shoulder.I stood up and stepped forward. Suddenly I was feeling brazen. After all, she was the one doing the dirty with a tree. And - yes - it was clearly still inside her. I strolled up, wondering whether she was going to admit what was going on.Now I was enjoying myself. I remembered that time, years ago, when I had visited a clients office ahead of my appointment. Old eagle eyes spotted a pair of skimpy knickers drying on a. More

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