She sat down carefully on top of it, her gaze turning to the surf ahead of her. The soft crash of the waves on the shore made her feel sleepy, but she resisted the urge to nap.If would be any second now and she didn't want to miss it.She remembered the first time she came out here. The cold wind was blowing in off the water, pushing the heat back in land.Behind her were the sounds of the party still going on. She turned to look and should still see the dull glow of the dance floor just behind the rise of the sand dunes.Like ghosts the figures came over the rise, clothing dropping like autumn leaves. Laughing voices charging towards the surf.Bare skin dimpling at the first touch of the cold salt water, the sound of splashing filling the air as hormone enflamed bodies charged at each other.She remembered the feeling of Johnny's knob her hand. The surprised look on his face when she gripped it. She thought about making some smart teasing comment about it, but she didn't.Instead she just. The end result was a digital "oil painting" of an erotically beautiful young woman in a midnight garden. She had dark hair, and her youthful curves glowed in sensuality, as in a painting by an Old Master artist. She appeared to be teasing her panties away from her beautiful crotch. Her name was Francesca.How had he ever sunk to this? It started when he looked at a photo of her, taken a few years ago. He found himself fantasizing about her in the nude. He scanned the photo into his computer, then meticulously used the graphics editor to undress her and embellish her nudity. He and Francesca hardly knew each other. She was a mother of a young child, and had to make do with a part-time job, and what little help she got from a ne'er-do-well abusive husband. He had been in and out of the state for years, and hadn't made much contact with her. But then, after going through his collection of photos, he found himself becoming aroused by her photo.He found other pictures of her, and became.
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