I recognized the figure as my next door neighbor’s eighteen-year-old son, Tommy. He was wearing a tank top and his shorts were down around his ankle...s. He had his cock in his hand stroking it slowly. By now my anger had turned to amusement. After all, what sixteen years old wouldn’t want to see my wife nude? At thirty, she was beautiful. She had milky white skin, small but very perky breasts, a gorgeous ass, and nicely trimmed bush. She was thin but had nicely rounded curves. Watching this. I felt so humiliatedTurn round I did as I was told and lifted my skirt ,pull your knickers down a bit , I pulled them down to my knees , my bottom was still sore from being spanked and felt really warm , how many more has she got to have Derek, six he replied, Pass me the ash tray she said , I went to pull my knickers up , leave them alone, we didn't tell you to do that, I took two steps to pick up the ash tray my knickers fell to my ankles , I shuffled to her with the ash tray , she stubbed. It would take us another hour before we could get back to a cool shower. The veil closed and I opened my eyes to see the ordinary world again, but differently.“We better hit the road back to the lodge,” I urged Steve to follow me. “I still want lunch and not be lunch.” The danger of being naked and vulnerable in the bush made me feel alive and part of the cycle of life. I was horny again and needed Steve between my legs. I had to settle for a wet pussy with puffy aroused lips.What just happened. I accidentally hit him, and apologized sincerely. I called him Flash then jokingly for the first time. Since then I used it sparingly only whenever I really meant it and was serious.A few days later I had to go back to school. I went there with lead in my shoes and with good reasons as I found out.In short, my return to school was one big disaster. Wherever I walked, I got called racist and pervert behind my back. I didn't even try to look around anymore to spot who said it. My locker got spray.