Astrid Cane

shaped as any that the finest Italian sculptor might have fashioned, the calves and ankles slender and the thighs fulsome and plump. Between them, and thoroughly well-displayed, the shell-like lips of her cunt lay enfolded by a mass of light brown curls that frothed and massed all about her mount. In a word,

Astrid looked a perfect goddess of desire over whose valleys and hillocks Julia's lascivious tongue longed to roam.

'I cannot bear this! My God, let me dress! The shame--oh, the shame!' Astrid cried. 'Have pity and let me cover myself!'

'Straddle her, Amy,' Julia commanded, the words causing Astrid to buck madly.

'You dare not!' she cried, but all was effected so rapidly that in a trice the maid had leapt nimbly upon the bed, casting her legs on either side of Astrid's body. Facing her feet, and squatting her bottom lightly upon the outraged young woman, Amy looped both arms beneath Astrid's thighs and drew them back so that the exposure of her most ultimate parts was then com