Her eyes were amber, slightly tilted, cat-like. Her mouth was wide and full, her cheekbones high. When she tossed her head, her hair cascaded around her face. Jonathon always found that an erotic movement.

Her tits were large and firm, thrusting upright without need of support, capped by nipples as firm as bullets. She never wore a bra, nor did she need one. Jonathon rather wished she would wear a bra, tonight, since she would be unescorted, but he wasn't even sure if she owned one.

As long as she wore panties…

Thinking of panties, he let his eyes trail down to the part of her ripe body over which those panties would, in due course, be fitted.

Her pubic bush was the same rusty gold as her hair, a thick and luxurious tangle of curls. Her legs were slightly parted as she adjusted the stockings and Jonathon could see her crotch. Her pink slit was wet and open.

His cock hardened some more.

Her hips were wide and full, sweeping sharply in to her narrow waist at the top and flowing down to blend with her heavy thighs below. He could not see her ass at the moment, since she was sitting on it, but he knew full well how nicely the jutting cheeks thrust out like a shelf, and then cut sharply in to the backs of her thighs.

Jayne strapped the garters to the stockings. Looking up, she noticed her husband standing in the doorway, in an attentive attitude.

She smiled.

She arched her back slightly, so that her tits thrust out and her belly drew in. She didn't close her legs. Jayne liked to be admired. She was not vain nor narcissistic, but she had no false modesty – she knew that she was sexy and enjoyed the regard of a man's eyes.

Jonathon's eyes seemed to burn into her velvet flesh, like lasers, branding her.