"Guy N. Smith - Night Of The Crabs 2 - Crabs Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Guy N)

of solid male flesh took her breath away. Suddenly this whole affair was for
real, a muscular lover whose intention was to take her here in the dunes.
Infidelity! She cringed, thought about leaping up and running. Don't be bloody
crazy, girl! It was a long walk back across the causeway and up to Llanbedr.
From there she would have to hitch-hike back to the camp. She tried telling
herself that Keith wouldn't do anything she really didn't want. He would just
be persuasive like most men were. She only had to say 'no'. It was as easy as
that.

She lay there trembling, aware of a moistness between her thighs which wasn't
just sweat. Her whole body was crying out for something she needed, something
she didn't get very often these days. Nobody would ever know. She wouldn't end
up with a baby because she was on the Pill.

So hot and stiff. Just the faint sound of the sea so far away and a thudding
like native tom-toms. It took her some time to realise that it was her own
heart thumping.

Sudden impetuosity. She sat up, tugged the damp T-shirt free of her body and
unclipped her bra in almost the same motion. Eagerly she wriggled out of her
crumpled skirt, threw it to one side. Her pants followed it.

She lay back with an audible sigh. Stark naked, God it felt good, like being
unshackled after years of incarceration in some dark dungeon. So relaxing, as
though the tension which had been building up inside her had suddenly been
released.

She wondered how long Keith would be. She couldn't wait to see his face when
he returned and found her like this.

She yawned and her eyes threatened to close.

Keith Baxter padded on to the wet sand and glanced about him. Those other
bathers were nowhere to be seen; perhaps they had gone back to their tents or
else were sheltering from the sun in the dunes. He glanced down at himself,
grinned. It wouldn't do to be seen with an erection like he'd got. Some bloody
woman would probably start screaming blue murder and he'd either be thrown off
the island or else the police would come. They'd call it flashing and run him
in. Even on the bona-fide nudist beaches you weren't supposed to get a
hard-on. Nudism wasn't supposed to arouse the sexual urges. But it was
different when you had got a half-conquered bird lying in the dunes awaiting
your return.

He broke into a canter, the sand becoming very soft now. Hell, the tide was a
good way out and still ebbing. He half considered giving up and returning to
Irey but he had come too far. Just a quick dip, enough so that he could go
back to her, his body glistening with droplets of sea water.

The water was damnably cold in spite of the heat of the day. Baxter gasped
aloud, pushed further in. The first few seconds were always the worst. He