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Marge Pierson stepped out of the bathroom into the half-light of the moonlit bedroom, catching a quick glimpse of her ripe luscious young body in the dresser mirror along the opposite wall. At twenty-two, Marge was a stunning young woman with long hair flowing down her back like molten copper and a sensuously curved figure like a narrow-waist hourglass. Her ample, upsweeping breasts and voluptuous young thighs quivered beneath her sheer, clinging nightgown in happy anticipation of the carnal pleasure waiting on the bed in the handsome, virile young figure of her husband, Tony.
Tomorrow Tony would be going to Denver for a business conference so this would be their last night together for an entire week, And Marge wanted to make it count.
“Ready for bed, lover?” she whispered and crawled in between the sheets of their king-size double bed, the one they had bought on the eve of their wedding two years before.
Tony turned and smiled, half-lying, half sitting beside her, hovering over her alluringly quivering body, she closed her eyes in lust-filled anticipation, basking in the muscular warmth of his strong young body. An answering rush of seething desire spread hotly through her veins as his big hands moved tenderly over the surface of her low-cut bodice, seeking out the ruby crests of her heaving, tremulous breasts which were throbbing madly. Yes, she wanted him, wanted him as desperately as she always did. Only hope tonight will be different . . .
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.