Hungry For Loving E-Book

Ivan Yerkinov

• Herausgeber: Oyodeo Divalium
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Excerpt: 

"Don't ... don't ... Gene ... Please," she cried even as she pushed her thighs closer to his mouth in an ungodly attempt to rape her tingling rectum with his tongue. She felt the flesh of her breasts and stomach turn suddenly to goose bumps as she began to toss her head from side to side, overwhelmed by her degradation, Gene's tongue now snaking from anus to vagina and back again in wild abandon as her body began to seethe.

"Lady, you really move your ass when you get turned on just a little," Gene said, drawing back, thinking, My God this is just about the hottest, homiest piece, the sexiest goddamn bitch I've ever found. Put it to her just a little and she goes wild. She says 'no,' but she's easy. "Now I'm going to fuck you until you go out of your mind, until you lose your head," he said, raising to his knees and with just a note of the menacing in his voice. He touched his up-thrusting ungodly shaft and said, "I put this to you, and you won't be able to walk straight, you won't be able to think for a week!"

"No, please no, I can't ... I'll never be able to," Fran wailed, honest fear welling up at the sight of his huge throbbing cock and, just beneath, his hairy black balls.

Leseprobe

Hungry For Loving

Ivan Yerkinov

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

Fran cupped her breasts in her hands and lifted them as if weighing their merits. She found herself wondering if they could still turn on a man; in her more objective moments she could find no reason why they wouldn't, but as a woman she harbored a large load of self-doubt. She squeezed and her brown-red nipples erected achingly in her hands. She sucked in her tummy and ran her hand over it, down to the bushy honey blonde triangle at her belly's base. A finger nestled into the curls where her thighs met. The tip of her tongue appeared between her lips. Her eyes closed briefly and then opened on her contorted features reflected in front of her. She withdrew her hand and began briskly toweling herself: she didn't want to stir up that hornet's nest! She knew all too well that she had no way to stop it. She had found from ten years' experience that the best way she had of coping with her sex drive was, insofar as possible, to ignore it.

Dressed only in her bathrobe, Fran stepped into the main living area of her houseboat. Carpenter's tools were piled here and there. Sheet-rock which would be used to finish the interior walls was stacked near the door, opening onto the dock. Boxes containing kitchen utensils were lined up along the kitchen wall; their living room furniture and other assorted boxes of belongings were stacked almost to the ceiling on one side of the living room.

Admittedly, her houseboat was just half-finished. As soon as the frame was up and the exterior walls had been nailed on, Fran had decided to begin moving in. While it may have been a foolish idea-too much junk in the way would impede progress-Fran had been anxious to get out of the suburbs.

No one had complained, however. The kids had looked on building the houseboat as an adventure, as a family project, perhaps the last family project before they began building lives of their own, and they had accepted moving in prematurely as part of the adventure, the spice. Fran had said she wanted a houseboat, and they had all pitched in. They were wonderful kids-all of them, not just her own. At twenty-two, Ted had just gotten married and had one year of law school left before taking his bar exam. He'd said that with what his wife Ellen earned and his scholarship, he'd have enough money to get by on, and had seemed eager to start the project. And Vivian, who was eighteen and had just graduated from high school, had worked like a trooper. Ted's buddy Bob, who'd dropped out of school and was at loose ends, volunteered to help, saying he could use the experience. They had great fun together.

Fran was so happy to get away from Orinda. After her divorce, it had seemed like a good place to raise the children, and she had gotten a job there, but with the children raised, it was time to get out. She had sensed that it was now or never, that this was her last chance to begin a new life, a life of her own. And the children's demented father no longer had anything to threaten her with. How could he take them away from her now? She had been stifled long enough. Where could she find a nicer place to make a new beginning than in a houseboat on the bay?

The kids had gone to a movie-the Lord knew they deserved a night off. Alone with her hopes, Fran stepped around a toolbox and over to the bay window, which appropriately enough faced the bay. She looked out on the bay, hugging her bathrobe around her in spite of the heat. She loved the wash of the tide, the gentle creaking of the dock. The subtle constant motion of the water was like a life force, something she was about to tap.

Over the door of the houseboat, visible from the dock, Ted had neatly lettered in gold paint: MAMA'S WHIM.

CHAPTER TWO

Usually a breeze swept in from the ocean and the nights were cool in Tiburon in summer, but this night was as still and sultry as any in Orinda. Fran awoke from a deep slumber, drenched with perspiration, her throat painfully dry. After drinking two and a half glasses of water at the kitchen tap, she returned to bed to discover that Vivian was wide awake.

"Hi, dear. I didn't hear you come in. You must have been very quiet."

"No, Mama. I think you were zonked."

"What time is it?" Fran asked, looking at the luminous dial of the alarm clock and then answering herself, "Twenty after one."

Viv giggled. "I think it's more like five after four!"

"Good Lord! I guess it is, at that," she said. "Well, what's kept you awake? Is it the heat."

"No."

"Moving to a new place? When I was young, that always kept me awake."

"No, I don't think that's it."

"What is it then."

"Oh, I dunno."

"Viv!" Fran said, her tone just imperative enough to indicate that she wanted an answer. Fran considered herself close to her daughter, and expected honesty.