your ideas, okay?”
“I promise. I promise,” said Ginger, hugging him.
“You’ve got a year. That’s it. A year . . . to get this out of your system and see if it’s for you or not.”
“That’s all I need, honey. You’ll be proud of me, you’ll see. You and the kids will be proud of me. I know I can do it. All I need is a chance. Just a chance.” She whispered the words more to herself than to her husband.
She felt him pushing down his underpants hurriedly and kicking them off, and turned to pull her gown over her head full of curlers. Plastic curler clamps landed on the floor alongside the discarded gown, but were unnoticed. Kissing her passionately on the mouth, he guided her hand to his growing sex. She stroked him gently at first, massaging the tip artfully, as he sucked the tips of her breasts until they peaked with desire.
He felt a tiny drop of clear liquid ooze from the source of his heat. His excitement mounting, he teased the mounds of her breasts with his tongue, while his hands toured the satiny landscape of her buttocks.
Her breasts rose and fell with the erratic beat of her heart. She inhaled the scent of his cologne, her breath becoming shallow, as he continued to explore the softness between her thighs.
She knew that neither could wait another minute. After years of lovemaking, their bodies were perfectly in tune. Each time they made love, their desire increased, taking them to a higher level than they thought possible — each time was better than the last. Jackson shifted his weight, positioning his long body above her.
She whispered “Let me” and kissed the nipples of his breasts. Guiding him to lie back against the feathery pillows, she stroked his sex until she felt his veins straining for release. Easing her leg over his lap, she straddled him, and bending her head to kiss his full, sensuous lips, caressed his luscious mouth with her tongue. She guided him inside her. Slowly, she felt his pelvis move with a quick assuredness that rendered her more helpless with each stroke.
Her heart pounded as if it were a talking drum of Africa. She met each stroke with a rhythmic thrust of her hips. Her eyes were closed, her mouth half-open, whispering his name. Her breasts swayed as strands of sweat ran down them and clung to the nipples, cold mingling with the heat of her passion. The warmth of Jackson’s mouth closed around her taut areola, sucking, licking, loving. Her entire body felt so relaxed, yet desperate for total sexual fulfillment.
She uttered a soft scream that told him she was near to release, and he lifted his lean hips to drive deeply against her, giving her the pleasure she needed. Holding back his own release, he felt the hot juices of her love crown the head of his manhood.
Her blood was making explosions through her body. She cried out in release, feeling as if a strange spiritual intoxication had taken control of her. . . . Her eyelids closed tightly as a kaleidoscope, swirling, eddying, appeared to dance before her eyes.
Jackson cupped the velvety halves of her bottom, guiding her to the final moment of rapture. He felt it his job as a man, to satisfy his woman first before he indulged in his own gratification. He’d finally met a woman whose sexual desires matched his own.
Knowing that his climax was imminent, she whispered “Faster.” She felt his body arch beneath her, gyrating his pelvis, lifting her higher with the ease of a thoroughbred stallion. His breathing ragged . . . hers in soft pants . . . their bodies in exquisite harmony . . . his raw sensuality carrying them to greater heights.
“That’s it baby . . . deeper . . .” cried Ginger as she felt the power of his throbbing penis. She worked the muscles of her vagina, relaxing then contracting, suckling him, grabbing hold of his shaft.
Timing their orgasm to catapult them to another place in time, they rode the waves of carnal passion together. They shuddered
“I promise. I promise,” said Ginger, hugging him.
“You’ve got a year. That’s it. A year . . . to get this out of your system and see if it’s for you or not.”
“That’s all I need, honey. You’ll be proud of me, you’ll see. You and the kids will be proud of me. I know I can do it. All I need is a chance. Just a chance.” She whispered the words more to herself than to her husband.
She felt him pushing down his underpants hurriedly and kicking them off, and turned to pull her gown over her head full of curlers. Plastic curler clamps landed on the floor alongside the discarded gown, but were unnoticed. Kissing her passionately on the mouth, he guided her hand to his growing sex. She stroked him gently at first, massaging the tip artfully, as he sucked the tips of her breasts until they peaked with desire.
He felt a tiny drop of clear liquid ooze from the source of his heat. His excitement mounting, he teased the mounds of her breasts with his tongue, while his hands toured the satiny landscape of her buttocks.
Her breasts rose and fell with the erratic beat of her heart. She inhaled the scent of his cologne, her breath becoming shallow, as he continued to explore the softness between her thighs.
She knew that neither could wait another minute. After years of lovemaking, their bodies were perfectly in tune. Each time they made love, their desire increased, taking them to a higher level than they thought possible — each time was better than the last. Jackson shifted his weight, positioning his long body above her.
She whispered “Let me” and kissed the nipples of his breasts. Guiding him to lie back against the feathery pillows, she stroked his sex until she felt his veins straining for release. Easing her leg over his lap, she straddled him, and bending her head to kiss his full, sensuous lips, caressed his luscious mouth with her tongue. She guided him inside her. Slowly, she felt his pelvis move with a quick assuredness that rendered her more helpless with each stroke.
Her heart pounded as if it were a talking drum of Africa. She met each stroke with a rhythmic thrust of her hips. Her eyes were closed, her mouth half-open, whispering his name. Her breasts swayed as strands of sweat ran down them and clung to the nipples, cold mingling with the heat of her passion. The warmth of Jackson’s mouth closed around her taut areola, sucking, licking, loving. Her entire body felt so relaxed, yet desperate for total sexual fulfillment.
She uttered a soft scream that told him she was near to release, and he lifted his lean hips to drive deeply against her, giving her the pleasure she needed. Holding back his own release, he felt the hot juices of her love crown the head of his manhood.
Her blood was making explosions through her body. She cried out in release, feeling as if a strange spiritual intoxication had taken control of her. . . . Her eyelids closed tightly as a kaleidoscope, swirling, eddying, appeared to dance before her eyes.
Jackson cupped the velvety halves of her bottom, guiding her to the final moment of rapture. He felt it his job as a man, to satisfy his woman first before he indulged in his own gratification. He’d finally met a woman whose sexual desires matched his own.
Knowing that his climax was imminent, she whispered “Faster.” She felt his body arch beneath her, gyrating his pelvis, lifting her higher with the ease of a thoroughbred stallion. His breathing ragged . . . hers in soft pants . . . their bodies in exquisite harmony . . . his raw sensuality carrying them to greater heights.
“That’s it baby . . . deeper . . .” cried Ginger as she felt the power of his throbbing penis. She worked the muscles of her vagina, relaxing then contracting, suckling him, grabbing hold of his shaft.
Timing their orgasm to catapult them to another place in time, they rode the waves of carnal passion together. They shuddered
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