Sylvia jumped. “Stop that,” she ordered.

“Look,” he said quietly, as though he were explaining something to a backward child, “I don’t want to hurt you. I have to prepare you first before I can get inside of you for the photograph.”

Her only answer was to close her eyes. Teasingly, he moved his finger in and out. Christ, he thought in surprise, she had a tight little cunt for a broad her size. Her husband must not use it very often… and, of course, the detective had no way of knowing that it hadn’t been used in three months, and prior to that, only once or twice a month for the past seven years. The tempo speeded up as his finger began sliding in deeper and more rapidly. She winced when he wormed in a second finger, but she was so well lubricated that her vagina easily accommodated it. Shelton was hypnotized by the sight of his finger moving in and out of the soft, hair-fringed lips. He was so taken by the sensation that it was a moment or two before he realized he was getting some reaction from the snooty little cunt. He felt one muscle twitch in there against his fingers, and saw the smooth, white cheeks of her buttocks flex.

She was ready. Quickly then, before she could change her mind, he lifted and draped her knees up across his shoulders and dropped between her open thighs. His savage throbbing cock was eager to begin the invasion of this promised land. His breath was coming hoarsely now, and he knew he could not deny his prick its well-earned reward any longer. Then he pressed forward. The head of his cock touched the wet, fevered cuntal lips. She moaned. He let it stay there for a moment, savoring the feeling of her soft resilient pubic hair against his glans. He pressed in, and felt the hardened rod of flesh slowly slip in about an inch.