It was still only sprinkling, not a full downpour yet. I walked back to her. My cock was at full mast pressing against my shorts.“Are you alright?�... I asked.“I stepped on a rock, it felt like I may have cut my foot.” She said as she kept her eyes on her foot.She looked up to see me tenting in my pants.“Oh wow.” She said, marveling at my tent.She reached out, almost if mesmerized and touched me through my shorts.“This is from seeing me?” She asked, her eyes locked on my tent.“Yeah, Sorry about. And this particular 15-year-old that she had locked between her thighs was her own son.She looked down at the boy, licking her lips, watching him use nothing but the tips of his index fingers to steer her sensitive nipples around like little knobs. She needed some resolve not to groan out loud, and not to demand he stop doing something that sent waves of irritant pleasure through her body; irritant because it made her feel anxious and made her feel like just grabbing her son forcefully and do. More

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