I could see her side ways. She was only in her blouse and petticoat. I could see her curves clearly. I was going to explode within. I couldn’t hold ...myself anymore. I cancelled off the jerking plan.I went towards the curtain and pushed the curtain aside. I kept staring at her boobs (covered by her blouse). She got confused by my heavy breathing. She asked me whether I was fine.I told her that since she was feeling hot, I would help her remove her clothes. She was taken aback. Before she could. I buried into her cooch, her sheath milking my pecker. I erupted into her juicy cunt, grunting loudly. I gasped and relaxed; finally satiated. I pulled out, flopped onto the bench next to her.Her voyeur was a pudgy young man, pointing his cell phone at her. She stood up on wobbly legs, and walked towards him. She grabbed the voyeur's hand, sweat breaking out on the man's forehead, and led him over to the bushes. Like a good slut, she got on her knees. It's where all women belonged, on their. ‘That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Why is it that you don’t want to stay here?’ ‘I’m not an invalid! I can take care of myself.’ ‘Okay, I can understand that. Let’s try a couple of tests. Point and tell me where the door is that you came in.’ Chantal’s blank gaze fell on him and she appeared to give his question a lot of thought. She turned, trying to listen, waiting for someone else to enter the automatic sliding glass doors but no sound came. ‘Well?’ ‘I don’t know.’ ‘Okay.. I’ll never forget how she had dried me off, she spent more time drying Mr. Woody woodpecker then any other part of my body. We spent the next 30 minutes French kissing and caressing each other and then ended up giggling and teasing the other, it was wonderful being home with someone you really loved. Formalities aside, we were now hot and ready to get down to some serious love making and as I can attest to this fact, Mr. Woody Woodpecker was up to the task at hand (no pun intended). .