Aunty Riding

It wasn't until two days later that I saw her. I must've seen her before, it was a small building, but I think this time was the first time I really remembered it. I saw her exactly as he had briefly described her. She was walking to the laundry room, obviously just off of her shift. Her long dark hair had just been let down over her shoulders. It cascaded down behind her white tank top. As my gaze followed down I could clearly tell she wasn't wearing a bra. The exact shape of her D-cup breasts could been seen clearly to anyone who looked long enough. She was unwinding from her twelve hour work day and didn't seem to care about how she was seen for the minute that she was outside of her room to get her laundry. Continuing down her beautiful body I noticed the curves of a woman. Everything was perfectly proportioned in that respect, her breasts, waist and hips were sculpted by an artist. And that leads me to the legs, they just went on forever. She really was almost as tall as me,. Please, dress yourself. We can play, later.”Again the play-pout. “I thought you liked my titties!”“As if you had to wonder, or fish for compliments. Your breasts are works of art, proof that a Benevolent Creator wants men and women to enjoy each other. Sadly, I want to delay this opportunity to admire you, so that, later, I can admire you with my full attention, and in detail, and at our mutual leisure.”“Oh, Ok. I’ll wrap myself up. Spoilsport!”, she teased.We made our way toward White Star, stopping at the Old Schoolhouse park. There was a considerable woodlands north and west of the park, and it promised plenty of opportunity for us to be stealthy. Again, we paused several hundred meters north of our anticipated turnoff, waiting, watching, and listening for indications of activity. There were several small farms scattered about, and the one on the west side of the road, south of where we paused, appeared to have an orchard behind it. Once we had convinced ourselves that there was.
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