Foreword
Nora's flesh was on fire as she watched her daughter crossing the room. The lithe, damp frame of the seventeen-year-old trembled with rich, enticing promise, and gave off a powerful warmth, even from twenty paces away.
She was dressed in only her short, tight nightie and Nora could see clearly through the sheerness of the material. Her hair was in pigtails and she wore a pair of small, furry slippers on her feet.
"Ooo, Mommy, I feel so warm and funny all over," the girl cooed, erotically. "I feel an itch, Mommy, an itch down here!"
The girl began to rub her mound through her nightie and Nora's flesh quickened as she watched the fingers kneading the almost hairless hillock, frantically. The girl's tiny nipples were taut and erect through the sheerness of the gown, and her free hand stroked the tiny, pink nuggets, teasingly.
She looked and acted, then, as if she were no more than a child, and the woman could hardly contain her desire as she stood watching her daughter caress herself. Her own lust was feverish and intense, a throbbing, pounding need that would not be denied. In that moment, her daughter was no more than twelve or thirteen to her, and she wanted the child unbearably.
As Maria drew close, Nora felt her hands reaching out to touch and embrace her, draw her little girl tightly to her and take her, with all the passion that was seething in her cave.