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Greed is a plague of mankind. Whether it is an inherent or acquired condition makes no difference at all. What man or woman can say that he or she has never once been greedy? It makes many accountants into executives, and a lot of soldiers into emperors. It has its place in all walks of life and all strata of society — from politicos to playboys, from pimps to pushers.
Is it greed that drives oil companies to exploit the consumer, or should Americans believe their one-minute, boob-tube messages that they must raise prices in order to survive the cost of finding more oil? Is it greed that makes a corporate executive blackmail his superior in the hopes of promotion, or is it ambition?
Sharon Wilson has defined her greed as “wanting more than one’s proper share”. She is willing to do anything to get ahead in life — even if it means giving her body to any person who can help her advance.
NASTY SHARON is the story of a woman who has enough but yearns for more. A story too typical of today’s society.
Sharon sighed with pleasure, tingling sensations racing through her cunt, as he soaped her breasts.
She lay in a tub of warm water under a blanket of bubbles like whipped cream. Using washcloth and soap, Buddy had opened two holes in the white blanket, baring her rosy tits.
He slowly laved the floating sphere of her left breast. It kept bobbing away from his touch, but his caresses caused the nipple to harden.
Deep inside, Sharon felt a vaginal fluttering that made her want to arch her back and raise her seething split to his touch. But she restrained the urge.
Buddy whispered, “Your boobs float.”
She almost giggled. Was he just learning, at age eighteen, that tits floated? Well, he had only this week arrived home from military school, where the boys saw females only in girlie magazines. Still, at his age Sharon had known anatomy by sight, feel, taste, smell. Sharon was twenty now, and she viewed Buddy as a child, but an unusual child.
He knelt on the bathmat, leaning over her. He was baby-faced, with brush-cut blond hair. She wished his hair could grow out to yellow curls of hippie length. He would look adorable. But his summer vacation would be too short, and in the fall the military school would again shear his golden locks.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.
Note: This story is the same as catalog number SE-1043 in the original publications (a duplicate).