Like, stupidly, impossibly, nothing-will-ever-feel-quite-the-same-again turned on. But it was more than that even. It was a look also of acceptance, o... longing, of trust and of urgent desires that needed to be quenched. Some folk call it the look of love, but unless you’ve been in this exact scenario I’d invite you not to consider me a twat for suggesting that. (Oh, and there was a gentleman sucking my cock two inches from her face. I maybe should have mentioned that). She moaned at the sight. Then the breezed stopped and it went down, but still sat higher on her thigh. Then she moved her leg up, I could see right up her inner thigh, right to her ass, she did that on purpose. I could feel myself starting to get wet and I was squirming about in my chair. Then the breeze picked up again, and even though the light was not good now, I’m sure I could see the mound of her pussy as it blew her dress up. I wanted her so badly, I need to touch my pussy and get to that itch. My stomach was. More

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