Read Kept for His Appetites for Free Online Page A

generous thighs, on my pressing mound, over my stomach, between my breasts, oh and his lips drawing, suckling, wanting, feeding. He pleased my big breasts, and they pleased him. His massive shoulders, framing the moon and the stars as his shining eyes explored mine, as he caressed my needy breasts and my throbbing nipples and, without using his hand, with one hand on my stretching neck, with his fingertips tracing my mouth, he found his way gently, firmly and unerringly in. And my lips and my scents and my juices and my loving, tender walls greeted, thanked, opened, beckoned, stroked, stretched and squeezed every inch, every long, hard, huge, hot, beating, pounding moment of him. Filling me, more and more. I let out a long sigh at the calm, indifferent ocean.
     
    He was nowhere to be seen now, though.
     
    “Would you like to dress for dinner this evening?” his voice was right behind me.
     
    It was such a shock that I nearly tipped over the rail. He reached forward quickly and pulled me back. Clasped my to him. Held me. The way he could hold me, the way he might hold a flower, it made me weak. He had that grin again. He said,
     
    “I was wondering if you might like to dress for dinner this evening. I would like to cook this time.”
     
    My knees were weak, my thighs trembled and my chest felt hot and heavy. I probably stammered like an imbecile, but I did manage to say,
     
    “That would be nice, but I didn’t bring anything.”
     
    “Take a look in the cabin behind my suite.”
     
    I tried to think for a moment. It could be wonderful to pick something to wear, to dress for the evening, but something bothered me. Many things bothered my. I was confused and breathless. There were so many things I wanted to know, wanted to ask, but all that got out of my mouth was,
     
    “You have a cabin full of women’s clothes?”
     
    He smiled,
     
    “It’s hardly full, but there are some clothes you might like.”
     
    “But whose clothes are they?”
     
    “Oh, I see. There are fashion shoots on Spray. Quite often, in fact. There was one last week last week, and they haven’t collected the clothes. Sometimes they don’t even bother.”
     
    The explanation was plausible, and I was thrilled by the prospect of the kind of clothes that a fashion shoot seemed to suggest, but a nagging thought wouldn’t quite lie quietly. I ignored it. I’d been ignoring enough thoughts all day long, one more wouldn’t add much to the noise.
     
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    The cabin behind his was lined with closets, and the closets were fairly full of silks, satins, crepe de chine and prints. Dresses, skirts, shirts, tops and pants in reds, blues, greys and midtones mostly, all good colors for me, and at first glance, they all looked as though they would fit. That nagging thought made a squeaking noise, so I put my mental fingers in my mental ears, and sang as I tried things on.
     
    There was gorgeous lingerie, and I found a set in pale blue silk. Putting them on brought the luxurious scent and rustle of new clothes. The bra pushed my huge breasts up and forward, and held it just enough to exaggerate the rise and fall of my soft, pale flesh as I breathed, and emphasised a very attractive slow shake as I moved. In a pair of blue high-heeled slingbacks, my legs stretched, full and shapely in sheer black holdup stockings, with lacy garters tied at the top, and the sheer panels in the blue panties making a tantalising ‘v’ at the top of my thighs. My breasts looked as though they would bubble out of the lacy bra, and the picture in the mirror was very encouraging. I pouted, pushed a shoulder and primped like a model. It felt silly, but there was no mistaking the shivers and charges from some of those views. When I half turned and caught how the curve of my soft, round ass was framed by the lace of the knickers hanging above, and the garter and black stocking top on my creamy thigh, a thrill flashed through my whole body and