Lightning splinters the dark sky. Wind-blown strands of hair cross my cheek; and your fingers are warm as they brush the hair aside, tangling a... the back of my neck. The air smells damp, of dust and rain and the scent of your skin. There is electricity in it, too, from the storm, and from the desire flashing between us. The temperature is dropping and the wind picks up, but I don’t want to go in yet. I want to wait for the rain. Your arms tense around me possessively and. The old bloke was saying something to the daughter and she kept shaking her head, he then got up and took the little girl by the arm and took her back to the chair and sat her on his lap ‘surely not’ I thought! but surely yes, as he almost immediately slipped his hand up her school dress, he f***ed her legs apart and sat there playing with her cunt inside her little white cotton knickers, after about five minutes he stopped and proceeded to get his cock out and put the girls hand on it, she. More

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