At the moment the camera got off, the Moth noticed an older gentleman coming out of the bushes at his right ; he was looking quite like a freshly retired pharmacist or accountant, unhappily married, dull and shy.
He was wearing lycra boxers, and his legs were shaved.
As he was running up and down the lane at some distance, making small, clumsy jumps across the ditch once in a while, as to somewhat maintain his sporty composure, at intervals he would stop and look in the Moth's direction, bending forward, waiting for something, or so it seemed.
The Moth affected not to understand, but he had to admit that his beard and attire made the mistake forgivable.
People usually didn't take a walk in the forest wearing tweed suits just because they happened to like the smell of wet tweed.
And in a sense it sounded much more sick than using the excuse of jogging in the woods for giving blowjobs to random partners.
Frank Leder except for the bag and boots.
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