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Warning: This is a vintage hard-boiled full length (100+ Pages), 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.
************** Hearing her son cry out, Sandy reached across the narrow space between their sleeping bags. She caressed his bare shoulder until he calmed down.
The rain wasn't hard, and to her it was soothing on the canvas tent.
The storm had been unexpected, coming up shortly after they had entered the tent and climbed into
…mehr

Produktbeschreibung
Warning: This is a vintage hard-boiled full length (100+ Pages), 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.

**************
Hearing her son cry out, Sandy reached across the narrow space between their sleeping bags. She caressed his bare shoulder until he calmed down.

The rain wasn't hard, and to her it was soothing on the canvas tent.

The storm had been unexpected, coming up shortly after they had entered the tent and climbed into their sleeping bags. The sky had been clear until around eight, then it had suddenly clouded up and covered the bright moon. There was no wind, but flashes of lightning lit up the sky, and distant thunder crashed fearfully.

Joey cried out again in his sleep, and she stroked his shoulder again. The rolling thunder boomed in the distance, and the rain pelted down a bit harder. She wondered if she had rolled up the windows of the car. If not, that was too bad; there was no way she was going out in the storm to find out. She would be soaked before she got two steps from the tent.

It was late summer, and until now the days had been pleasant, warm but not cool. Even the rain wasn't cold now. The storm had been totally unexpected. They had been at the campsite for two days, both of them excited to be together in the open: the fresh air, the trees.

Joey loved the lake, and had caught two beautiful trout for their dinner. He had presented them to Sandy proudly, as a hunter from the distant past would do for his mate. She had rewarded him with a kiss, both of them blushing because her mouth had closed upon his.

Sandy had not kissed her son's mouth intentionally; that was just the way it happened.

But that kiss had tingled for hours on her lips. She didn't want to feel desire for Joey, but it was there. All evening she had felt a tingling kind of excitement, her nipples pushing at the T-shirt, her cunt quivering inside her cut-off, faded old jeans.