Bestiality Farm: Taboo Erotica E-Book

Celia Upham

• Herausgeber: Vintage Pulp Publishing
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

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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Connie sat up, crossing her bare legs under her bathrobe. She snatched up her hair brush and began brushing out her shiny blonde hair, letting it all fall to one side as she brushed it out in front of her chest. The fire had dried her hair in no time, and now the orange flickers played across her tresses, making them glimmer. Connie loved her waist-length hair, loved the hot bubble bath she'd just taken, loved the warmth and light of the fire. She likened the fire to a sort of ripened, pulsating sunshine. The fire alone lit the room and warmed it, and Connie suddenly felt so secure and free in its radiance that she pulled off her robe and tossed it aside. Next to Connie, Hector's yellow eyes looked at her quizzically, and Connie had to laugh.
"Nobody's home to see me like this, boy," she said to the big dog. "Just you. And you don't care, do you?" She stroked his sleek head, and Hector let out a loud exhalation through his moist, black nostrils.
Connie giggled to herself. She felt downright naughty. She wondered if any of the other girls at school ever dared to sit in their fathers' dens naked like this. She couldn't imagine it, but she was sure some of them did. For example, someone like Trixie Adams.

Leseprobe

Bestiality Farm

Celia Upham

Copyright © 2017

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE

It felt so good to have the whole house to herself for once. No housekeeper. No babysitter. Just herself and the fire-and trusty Hector, her black Doberman. She felt safe and cozy, lying here on her bearskin rug. The fire and Hector kept her warm, while outside, the spring wind scourged the house with sleet. Winter was making its last desperate raid on the year. It was a good night to be inside.

Connie sat up, crossing her bare legs under her bathrobe. She snatched up her hair brush and began brushing out her shiny blonde hair, letting it all fall to one side as she brushed it out in front of her chest. The fire had dried her hair in no time, and now the orange flickers played across her tresses, making them glimmer. Connie loved her waist-length hair, loved the hot bubble bath she'd just taken, loved the warmth and light of the fire. She likened the fire to a sort of ripened, pulsating sunshine. The fire alone lit the room and warmed it, and Connie suddenly felt so secure and free in its radiance that she pulled off her robe and tossed it aside. Next to Connie, Hector's yellow eyes looked at her quizzically, and Connie had to laugh.