"Sparkrock, Fred - Burning Desires" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sparkrock Fred)

She squealed once and her lips covered his again. Her tongue darted into
his mouth, teasing and drawing his tongue into the warm shelter of her
mouth. Ponkert obliged, probing and toying with her twisting oral digit.

Suddenly, her teeth clamped down lightly and she sucked. He groaned in
protest under the oral pain-pleasure and jerked his tongue free from her
grasp. A slight salty taste was left in her mouth.

Ponkert's mouth and teeth now worked their way from her ear lobe down
the gentle arch of her creamy neck. His bands drifted along her spine,
over the base of her satiny back, slipping under the elastic band of her
panties. His fingers roughly dug into the demi-globes of flesh, kneading
them. She squirmed with the manipulation, grinding her crotch into the
hardening length at his groin.

"Oooohh!" she moaned. "My god, I love your hands on me!"

"Not as much as I do," he whispered, giving up her neck to speak.

"Don't be fresh, young man, or you'll get a bust in the mouth," Karin
replied, smiling coyly down at her partner.

"There's nothing I would like more," he grinned up. "Right one or left?"

"Neither, greedy," she chuckled, pushing herself up and away from his
arms, "unless I get this dress off!"

Smiling, he watched as she rose. Standing before him, her eyes flashed
and her arms gracefully arched to her shoulders, slipping the sheath
over them. The dress drifted down around her ankles like a cloud. She
revelled in the desire that ignited in Ponkert's eyes as they raced over
her body.

Although he had viewed her on numerous occasions during the past month,
she was most definitely a she-takes-your-breath-away vision. She seemed
to be a living portrait that had stepped from a painting by the
Twentieth Century master, Jeff Jones. The type of woman that caused a
man to ache by just looking at her. Her swollen breasts spilled over the
thin cloth of her bra, which she wore more for containing than
supporting. Her arms twisted behind her back unclasping the delicate
garment, tossing it to the ground. The twin mountains of flesh sprang to
freedom, jiggled slightly, then jutted proud and firm.

Her hands now glided down the curving slope of her sides. Her fingers
hooked under her bikini panties and slid them over the tempting flue of
her hips and down her long lithe legs until she stepped from them and
the dress around her ankles. The triangle of fleece at the junction of
her thighs was the same frosty blonde as the clouds of hair that fell
around her shoulders.