She lifted her bottom and slid them down and I got a short glimpse of some shiny white knickers, before her blouse and knees obscured them. I got a couple of little looks from both her and her hubby during all this and to be honest, it was the same as those situations always are, in that I was unsure whether they didn't want me looking or they were enjoying being watched. It's never easy to tell and it's always a risk that you're going to offend somebody, but I always think they're game for it or they wouldn't be there getting it out after all!Anyway, she spent ages neatly folding the trousers before slowly unbuttoning her blouse revealing her white bra. As with the trousers, she slowly removed the blouse and folded it neatly, before piling it on top of the trousers.A few seconds later and she's sitting there in just her nice shiny white matching underwear, a soft shiny white bra, with her nipples poking out (but not see through) and matching knickers. She had a nice perky pair. ‘Don’t stop,’ she had begged the halfwit, splaying her legs wide. ‘Don’t stop, please, not just yet!’ When Caleb, a grin entirely different from his usual look of oafish geniality giving him an aspect both sinister and clever, undid his belt and shoved his homespun trousers to his ankles, Margaret had not screamed but made a low and hungry cry. Her gaze was fixed on the spear of flesh jutting from a springy mat of dark hair at Caleb’s groin. Abigail’s was as well, for she had only ever seen such things before in fleeting glimpses of pictures the other girls sometimes passed around, pictures that she had done her best to refrain from looking at. She’d never dreamed the truth would be so … so real. So veiny and knobbed and large, with a head the shape and color of a plum partly concealed by a flap of skin. Caleb gripped this tool and worked his hand up and down its length, still grinning that malicious grin at Margaret. Abigail knew what he intended to do with it. She was not.
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