Barbara Skinner

Lust is a many splendored thing

CHAPTER ONE

Ben Harvey was stretched out on the king-sized bed, his arms and legs thrown wide. After a hard day's work' he had fallen asleep, though intending only to close his eyes for a moment. His eyes shifted now as the bathroom shower was turned off, and he looked up at the ceiling, still half asleep.

"Dinner'll be ready soon," he heard his wife say, and he turned his head to see Erin standing by the bathroom door.

Beads of water clung to the peaked domes of her wide-based breasts, and hazed the soft curlings of her muff. She unwrapped a towel from around her head, and bright red hair spilled around her face, down past her shoulder blades.

His cock stiffened against the crotch of his slacks, the only clothing he wore. He inhaled deeply, warming at the sight of her damp body's lushness, the light from the bathroom gleaming from her flesh, and from her hair. He pushed up onto one elbow, turning onto his side to stretch his hand out toward her, a grin on his face.

"Your meat'll get overcooked," she said with a shy smile, and moved toward the bed, the towel slipping from her one hand as the other lifted toward his.

"I certainly hope so," he replied, his grin widening, and he sat up as he took her hand.

Erin slid her knee onto the bed, and he rose up toward her, their arms going around one another. Their mouths joined, and her soft lips parted to the press of his tongue, her breasts pressing against the hardness of his chest.

He moved his hands down her back, spreading them over the fullness of her rounded ass cheeks. Her hands squeezed against his back as she moved her tongue over his, following it back into his mouth, and she moved her hands down to the waistband of his slacks. She murmured with pleasure as he kneaded her fanny, pressing his fingertips down toward the base of its deep cleavage.

His cock was throbbing with arousal, her damp tits sliding against his flesh, her tapering nipples rubbing back and forth. He could feel the heat radiating from her cunt against his fingertips. She slid her hands around his waist and between the two of them, her fingers slipping his belt free of its buckle. Turning his chest against her breasts, he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, licking at the roof, her gums, and the insides of her cheeks. His prod was straining impatiently for freedom as she slipped his zipper downward, opening his pants.

Erin pushed the pants from his hips, baring the base of his thick trunk, and she pressed her fingers down between the cloth and his inner thighs to caress his heavy balls and his engorged tool. He inhaled sharply at the contact of her soft fingers, his blood racing. She pressed the backs of her hands out, and down, forcing the pants along his thighs as she held the hard column of his sex against his leg until the trousers were lower than his bulbous head. She slipped her hand to the side, and his prick sprang stiffly up to press against the underarch of her shifting body, the heat of her snatch against the lower half of his shaft.