Still, no matter, what, the mood was perfect and Sara summoned her courage to be bold. Her fingers inched forward and found Ian’s to intertwine. The...y were warm and they accepted her sans hesitance. ‘Why weren’t you at work today? I missed you.’ Sara’s heart began to beat like a drum at a rock concert—not the Flaming Llama’s concert, they weren’t that good anyway. Could he hear it? Did his beat with hers in unison? Ian remained silent. He closed his eyes and smiled. Sara’s voice sounded cute. She’s old ... Not ancient, but older than you’d expect to see on a motorcycle like this. Dark hair down over her shoulders frames a square face. Her skin is in good condition, the lines around her eyes and mouth suggesting she’s spent a lot of her life smiling.We hear her in voice-over, her accent northern, chirpy – close to Scouse, but not quite. “I’m Daphne Hall, but everyone calls me Dee ... I’m 59 years old, and I’m from Dunham-on-the-Hill in Cheshire.”We cut to a close-up of her, still. Never before had she done such a personal and intimate act in front of another person. She felt consumed with humiliation before his steady gaze. Her hands took on a life of their own, one running over her body caressing and squeezing her breasts while the other continued to stimulate her pussy. She tried to forget her shame by studying her captor. He sat with his legs spread his giant glistening tool raising up straight and proud. She stared at it with a mixture of fear and admiration. She. Although we started off as friends I knew from the start that I wanted it to be more but did not want to take things too fast. This would all change one Saturday evening when we became lovers.We met on a cold Saturday afternoon, we were walking along the beach as we often did. We talked about how each others week had been, just talked in general at ease with each others company, stopping every now and then to marvel at the view and the crashing waves on the shoreline.As the waves pounded onto.