Camp Mommy: Taboo Older Woman Erotica E-Book

Bambi Thornhill

• Herausgeber: Vintage Pulp Publishing
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Warning: This is a VERY taboo, 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.

******
"Why, you little shit. Just who in hell do you think. . . . "
But Lorraine stopped her by slowly raising her hand. "It's all right," she said.
The boy smiled triumphantly.
"What? You . . . want to?" Grace said, incredulous.
"Yes." Her voice was a monotone, her eyes wide and blank. The steady, even rhythm of the boy's fucking motors had reduced her to a trancelike state, and her own pussy itched from a desire to be fulfilled. She did not think of Gary, or even her impending appointment with Bob Shuster. All she saw was the boy's sturdy penis, and Grace's familiar globes of flesh and her hairy, sticky pussy.
The boy with the man's desire stretched himself out on the warm linoleum floor, still gripping the base of his throbbing shaft. He wagged it at Grace. "Sit on this," he said.
"Don't you tell me what.. . . "
But the boy only raised his voice, which oddly made it deeper. "I said sit on this!"
Unsure of what to do, Grace obeyed. She swung one long, tapering leg over the boy's waist, and squatted until the spongy cockhead made contact with her dripping orifice. Then she slid down, taking the length of his meaty cock inside of her, until her exquisite ass was settled on the cushion of blonde male pubic hair.
Through the agony of her pleasure, Grace smiled, then lifted herself off the lad only to fall back on him with a lurid plopping sound as her cock-hungry cunt swallowed all of his length.

Leseprobe

Camp Mommy

Bambi Thornhill

Copyright © 2017

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER ONE

His heart skipped a beat as he saw the car for which he was waiting turn the corner and burst into view, kicking up great clouds of brown dust in its wake. It passed the sign that read CAMP BERNHARDT and disappeared behind a cluster of trees, then emerged again, closer and larger. Barry closed his eyes and uttered a futile prayer that it had never happened, but when he opened his eyes again, the car was pulling to a stop in front of the camp director's cabin, and the wreck was still in the shed beneath him.

He suddenly wished he were hiding someplace, that he had never signed up to be the handicraft director at this godforsaken summer camp, that he was back in the city and had never heard of Gary Kemper or his damned dune buggy. But none of that was possible. Gary had already stepped out of his sedan, gone around to the other side and opened the door for his wife of three days, Lorraine. She stepped out, and Barry momentarily forgot his worries. She was stunning, long blonde hair flowing down to the small of her back, forming curls in the front that framed an expressive, tanned face. She wore a t-shirt, and her breasts pushed against the material, hard enough to show their outline clearly. Her short pants hugged her thighs, and directed one's attention to the long, tapering smoothness of her richly tanned legs.