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"I ran my hand over the napkin in Bree's lap. I startled when her legs moved apart, and my hand was caressing the valley between her thighs. I pulled ...y hand back as if it had been burnt. Bree giggled. The waitress brought out Bree's complementary desert. It was piled high with whip cream and topped by a single red cherry."You can have my cherry for being so nice," Bree said.The double meaning was not lost on me, especially the way she said it. She handed me the small fruit on a stem."I just. I’m pretty sure that I managed it without letting him see my pussy.I sat on the seat and peddled backwards (Ryan was holding the bike). Good, I thought, a bit too high, rub rub time; but the man had other ideas. He insisted on lowering it. For him to do that I had to get off the saddle.He motioned for me to slide forward off the saddle. I did and could feel the cold steel of the cross-bar on my pussy. I looked back to see what the man was doing and saw a wet patch on the saddle. The man was. Of course he was being discrete, on his side facing away from me and covered up, but boys do it that way, whereas we girls do it on our backs or fronts, out and in the open for all to see, a little bit unfair if you are a voyeur, which I was at this particular moment in time.I had a sudden urge to barge in on him and confront him, embarrassing him, empowering me by letting him know I caught him jacking off in my bedroom.He was using his left hand, pumping like someone possessed, he must be. "Paul? Did you do your homework?" "Yes, mom. It's all ready for tomorrow. I'm going out to the barn to help dad bring down the hay and grain."What we would regard as idyllic days, to an only child on a farm it seemed cruelly, desperately boring. Get up in the morning, take the bus to school, try to look attentive to the deadly dull teachers though their deadly dull classes, take the bus home, do chores, have dinner, read a book for a while, go to bed. Rinse, repeat. Only his respect and love.
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