An Unholy Desire by Elizabeth Watson
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The June sunshine fell warmly through the French window of the blue bedroom onto the half-naked torso of the naked full breasted young blonde. In her simultaneous yawning and stretching, she made her full, melon-shaped breasts rise and fall as she breathed in the fresh morning air, her long blonde hair cascading sensuously over the satin pillow slip.

Ann Dexter stretched her lithe body as she awoke, blinking slightly as the cool morning air, mingling with the soft sunshine, gently stirred her awake. When she and Carl had gone to bed the night before, she had forgotten to draw the drapes.

But it did not bother the voluptuous young woman to miss an hour or two of sleep. She was feeling sunshine all over lately — particularly up between her firmly curved thighs, and the fact that Carl had been more than occupied — obsessed, perhaps a more apt description — with his work had helped to keep her natural sexual interests rather keen. And this spring warmth with its soothing, tantalizing fingers of yellow light was like dried kindling to her desires. But she didn’t mind. In fact, the young woman rather enjoyed it, because then her orgasms — when they did come — were all the more lusty and overpowering.

Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.

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