A tiny snippet of a story
Jesse had been enjoying her late morning walk for a few weeks now, she had moved back to an area she hadn't lived in for over a decade, at 30 she wanted to get more exercise. Lots had changed, but this huge nature reserve and park was the same. Two lakes, lots of walking trails, woodland, a farm, and fields sided by a golf course. It was a lovely place, and at 11am it was usually fairly quiet, nearly empty in winter. She found the paths she often had to herself and stuck to those, veering away from the noisy farm where harried mothers chased noisy toddlers, and OAPs gathered to eat at the café.
She always started at the carpark, next to the farm, she would change into her walking shoes, though any would do, most of the paths were clear, if a little muddy. She would sling on her mini backpack holding tissues, a small lunch and a big water bottle, and start through the gate. Sometimes she enjoyed going off to the side to feed the ducks at the small pond. But she most enjoyed the start of the path, three benches sat in a semicircle to one side, and when it was quiet one could hand feed the many birds, robins, wrens, sparrows and more, along with the overly cheeky squirrels.
She would pass there, and walk toward the main road bridge, a concrete monstrosity over the main road, deafeningly noisy, but once over it the trees arched over the path and it became a little quieter.
Today she paused on the bridge, noisy as it was, and placed a crochet rose on the post for someone to find. As she was fiddling with the yarn, she heard a shuffle but dismissed it, lost in the white noise of the heavy traffic. Then she felt it, a large hand on her ass, it didn't grab as such, just a firm pressure at first. Her first instinct was to swing around and slap or shout at whoever was doing this. But she held her tongue as the hand fondled her ass, it was a huge hand, and strong as it grasped her and then stroked across her jeans to fondle the other cheek. She couldn't bite back a moan as it firmly grabbed her ass and a few fingers pressed at her crotch.
She moved slightly, pulling up from the bent over position to hold onto the bar of the bridge, not wanting to look back yet, but just to enjoy the odd sensation she knew she should probably be angry about. Anyone could walk by, seeing this unknown, man she guessed by the size of the hand, fondle her. Heck, anyone could probably hazard a guess what was happening as they drove past below the bridge, seeing them standing there. But still she watched the traffic as the hand hesitated, then grew more firm and more sure. Both hands were now kneading her ass, and she yelped when one pulled back and gave her a firm spank, loving the tingle of pleasure running through her at the sharp shot of pleasure. She was loving it, the hands sometimes delving between her legs to stroke firmly against her pussy beneath her jeans.
Then she heard voices nearby and she froze, the man suddenly appearing at her side to stand beside her also watching the traffic as if they were companions. A couple of elderly ladies tittered about the bridge and decided the ongoing path too muddy, walking back to the farm and barely paying them any attention.
