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" Turning back to Alison she added. "And it is only your word against ours."This time Alison Jones's laugh was whole-hearted. "Oh Evelyn, Evelyn. You misjudge me if you think I would make such a threat without something to back it up." She turned to Donald Cresswell. "I really am sorry Donald but I'm afraid I stored those photos we took, off the disc and onto my laptop." She saw the distress on his face and felt sorry for him again. "I really am sorry Donald, I know I told you that I'd wiped them and that there was no copies but I didn't trust your wife to leave things be." She turned to Evelyn Cresswell who was clearly shaken by the news. "The question is now Evelyn, just what will you do?" How do I know you're not bluffing about... ?" She turned to her husband and asked the question that she suddenly knew the answer to. "Were there photos?"You could hardly see the nod of his head but it was there and it was enough for Evelyn who started walking back to her house immediately. "I'll. And trouble was inevitable. I sighed and began to walk through the front door of the school. This wasn't allowed for pupils of my age, but then I was in trouble already and this wouldn't add much to the inevitable tirade... .oOo.Things were certainly going downhill.Before, I'd been merely verbally harassed as result of one of these incidents, apart from the slap, but this time I'd been hurt; quite badly. My shoulder ached with the remembered pain of the pole landing on it. This was definitely no fun. Being in Susan's arms was some consolation, however. Not that my younger self was in any position to appreciate it. Perhaps being a passenger wasn't so bad after all! I luxuriated in the feel of her soft... I was struck be the realisation that when Angela had bent down to fiddle with her shoes, a stray shaft of sunlight had illuminated her. She'd appeared to glow. I remembered that I'd noticed it the first time through too.I decided that I'd had enough of these bubbles. Wasn't I ever.
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I continued stroking my wife while I pulled her dress up with my otherhand. Now she was completely naked except for a temporary bundle of fabricacross her breasts. Her trim waist, the lazy eye of her belly button, thecurves of her hips, and now, far below the fair skin of her exposedabdomen, the shock of red-orange hair beneath my hand, were all of itdisplayed for the pleasure of not one man, but two, not only her husband,but a young stranger. In the watcher's imagination, the swollen tip of hispenis was feeling the slippery gully between the fringes of red fur. Itwas his stiff member that rubbed pleasurably against the near-nakedredhead's clitoris, not my finger. With a final upward tug, her breasts popped free. She helped pull thedress up over her head, impatient to get rid of it. Her red-gold curlswere tousled in the wake, curling invitingly over bare shoulders andteasing her throat in tickling wisps. I began rubbing her up in earnest now, while pinching first one.

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