Click cover to enlarge it
“You’ll have to keep Rex here in the cabin, darling,” Carson Smith said to his wife. “If the white stag gets the scent of a dog, I’ll never get close enough to photograph him.”
Catherine turned from the primitive iron stove, where she was making coffee. It was early in the day and she was still wearing only a frilly dressing gown. The slinky garment clung to her body, caressing her smooth flesh. Through the semi-transparent silken material, the dark circles of her tit tips could be seen and, farther down, the triangular outline of her cunt mound was tantalizingly hinted at. But Carson was paying no attention to his seductive wife at the moment. The man was an enthusiastic amateur wildlife photographer and he was anxious to start stalking the elusive white stag that was rumored to roam the forest near the cabin.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.