She ran her nail teasingly over the area up between her thighs, arching her long limbs up and spreading them open to the delicious, forbidden delights which her caresses were instilling within her body. Her mouth was parted, and her brain was whirling with the heat of her growing lust; she flailed her head from side to side on the over-sized pillow, her long, red hair swirling in a tangled cascade of shimmering loveliness. The magazine she'd been reading was kicked off the bed, as her hands continued their mad pace up and down, down and around, teasing her now-fevered flesh into even more intense arousal, her brain alive with lewd thoughts of her fiancee's long hard penis sawing in and out of her wetly throbbing cunt…

Rhonda arched her back, her hands moving behind and under her to quickly unsnap the catches of her bikini top; she had to have her breasts free, had to touch the rigid nipples without the encumbrance of clothing. She pulled the top off, tossed it to the floor beside the bed, and her hands hungrily engulfed the soft warmth of her alabaster mounds. Slowly, rhythmically, she began to roll the nipples back and forth, squeezing them and then releasing them, squeezing, then releasing…

The entire time she was thinking: No, no, this is wrong, it's sick! Rhonda Baker, masturbating like a teenage girl after she's read one of her daddy's sex books. But God, it feels good!

Her right hand left her nakedly quivering breast and moved slowly down over her stomach to the elastic waistband of her panties. In spite of her self-recrimination, her shame at what she was doing, she wasn't able to stop herself. There was only her urgency now, frantic need for release from the ever building whirlpools of passions inside her shamelessly aroused body.

She was drawing her bikini bottoms down, drawing them sensuously over her pubic mound while her other hand continued to stroke the nipple of one breast.