Her last appeal, couched in the kind of girlish innocence which drove him wild, was far more exciting than a blatant, crude splash of sex from an over-experienced harridan. He saw Kim without a husband to soothe her inner cravings, as being driven to embarrassing and almost hysterical actions, and not realizing that he was the victim of a finely-tuned act on her part to use all of his emotional aspect, put out his heart to the girl and cried: "Yes, Kim, yes I want to fuck you!"

"How!" she mewled, almost staggering from the whipping of her hand in her open, lust spasming, wet cunt. "Tell me how!"

"Deep! Deep and hard like you've never been fucked before!"

"Oh, God, Roger," she moaned. "Let's go in the bedroom and you get naked too before I die!"

A self-consciousness stole over Roger as he dropped his pants and shirt, removed his shoes and socks and then slowly drew down his under pants while all the time Kim Copeland lay on her double bed, her eyes riveted on his loins. As his rigid, frenzied penis stood out, she watched the blood-filled head for a moment and moaned: "I love your cock, Roger. I know it's going to feel good fucking up inside me and twisting deep in my cunt. Oh, God, hurry! Hurry!"

He lay down on the bed beside her, dragging her over him with his arms, and moved one hand down to cup one smooth, white, quivering buttock. Her body was warm and soft against him, and as she raised her face to his and they kissed, their lips locked together tightly and her hand searched down between their bellies and closed around his rigid, swollen cock, making Roger gasp. Kim crushed the whole length of her naked flesh against him and her lips were yielding and yet at the same time demanding, and she ground her pelvis into him until spasmodic chills were racing up and down his spine. Then she twisted and pulled him over her, opening her lovely, glistening white thighs wide so that he could plunge his penis between them and take her…