Warning: This is a vintage hard-boiled full length, post-censorship erotic novel. This is bad stuff. Both bad meaning bad and bad meaning *good*. The story is so crazy, we can't even give a proper description. Check out the free sample if you can.
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Wendy Urban looked at her best friend with wide eyes, wiping her sweaty palms on the sides of her shorts. They were standing some thirty feet from the boat landing, the broad mountain lake stretching out before them. A young, thick-muscled blond man in a tight-fitting bathing suit was kneeling on the ground, his attention fixed on the bottom of a small rowboat.
"Well, I wouldn't," Teri said, pursing her lips together and tilting her head back. "At least I admit it. I see you giving him goo-goo eyes. I'll bet you feel real hot between your legs when...." She finished her sentence with a giggle.
"I'm not going to listen to this."
Wendy was getting warm between her legs. She felt a strange kind of itchy heat concentrating in the furry bundle between her thighs, especially when her eyes swept over the smooth, tanned body of Paul Jackson, chief camp counselor.
"It's the only thing interesting in this dumb camp," Teri said petulantly, picking up a stick and hurling it against a near-by pine. "There's nothing to do up here. The boys over there are goofy."
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Wendy Urban looked at her best friend with wide eyes, wiping her sweaty palms on the sides of her shorts. They were standing some thirty feet from the boat landing, the broad mountain lake stretching out before them. A young, thick-muscled blond man in a tight-fitting bathing suit was kneeling on the ground, his attention fixed on the bottom of a small rowboat.
"Well, I wouldn't," Teri said, pursing her lips together and tilting her head back. "At least I admit it. I see you giving him goo-goo eyes. I'll bet you feel real hot between your legs when...." She finished her sentence with a giggle.
"I'm not going to listen to this."
Wendy was getting warm between her legs. She felt a strange kind of itchy heat concentrating in the furry bundle between her thighs, especially when her eyes swept over the smooth, tanned body of Paul Jackson, chief camp counselor.
"It's the only thing interesting in this dumb camp," Teri said petulantly, picking up a stick and hurling it against a near-by pine. "There's nothing to do up here. The boys over there are goofy."