Lust Takes A Holiday
Dinah's breasts heaved high, the way they did when Fred would run his warm tongue over them, or when his fingers would tingle on her supersensitive inner thighs. But at the moment, the lovely breasts were heaving out of anger, not out of that cream of passion.
Even so, the nipples stood erect. She never seemed to be able to control that, no matter what the emotion.
"Fred, I wish you wouldn't be so stubborn. You know we need money!"
Striding across the living room, Dinah tossed her mane of luxurious red hair over her shoulder and continued the argument with her husband. For three days now she hadn't gotten anywhere with him but was determined not to give up.
"I'm tired of staying home all day and trying to balance the budget.
What if something happens? What if I get pregnant? Your research grant isn't going to take care of that. We have hardly enough to live on as it is."
Fred gave her a wry smile and leaned back in his easy chair, shuffling the newspaper on his knees as he attempted to turn the page. In truth, he actually enjoyed it when she got angry. Her fiery words seemed to match the color of her red hair, and she looked extremely sexy when her hackles were up. Her green eyes flashed like emeralds, her generous breasts heaved under the tight sweater she was wearing and looked as though they would almost burst through the confines. She had a good mind, it was true, but with a voluptuous body like hers, she was hard to take seriously. It was all he could do to keep himself from jumping up and stripping her clothes off, much less pay any attention to her familiar tirade.
He gazed appreciatively at her seductive form, his eyes taking in her lushly ripened breasts with their taut little nipples straining against the thin-knit sweater. She had taken to not wearing a brassiere in an effort to be with the current fashions, and her sensuality was more disconcerting than ever. The sweater clung like a tight-fitting glove to her flesh, displaying her flat abdomen, then tapering down to her slender waist. Her neatly flaring hips and smoothly rounded buttocks were equally well-encased in her tight, daringly short mini-skirt. My God, he thought, she doesn't even realize how sexy she is! She's driving me crazy. Her legs were long and slender, suntanned already, even though it was only early spring, and his gaze had drifted down to concentrate on them.
"Fred, you're not even listening to me," she protested, throwing her hands up in despair. Her piercing tone got through to him finally, making him look up at her face.