Extract from Tempting The Goddess

With his trembling so hard that he had been forced to steady his binoculars on a branch, Mr Pedlow watched the girls from his place of concealment behind a fallen tree. There were eight of them, more than ever before, although the glorious blonde with the pneumatic tits and an arse like a ripe peach was missing. There was still plenty to look at; not least the one who seemed to be in charge, Rowena, a slender, graceful young woman who carried herself with extraordinary poise. The thought of a girl’s potential indignation at being watched always added a certain piquancy to the operation, but with Rowena it was magnified a hundred fold. To her, he was certain, her body would be a temple, and the thought of his gaze lingering on her most intimate secrets an unendurable outrage.

He chuckled as he adjusted his position, still careful not to make a noise, but confident in the absolute blackness of the woods from the girls’ viewpoint within the circle of fire light. Rowena’s poise and beauty drew his gaze, but for sheer, rude pleasure she was not the best. She lacked flesh, and more than anything it was flesh he wanted, full, plump bums and titties, gently swollen bellies, ripe, female, flesh. In the absence of his perfect blonde, Charlotte, Andrea was best for flesh. She was tall, athletic, with long honey coloured hair falling all the way to a firm, meaty bottom, tits like bumpers, and a pouting, well furred cunt. Twice he’d seen her nude.

Eve was almost as good; a little shorter, not so firm, but with a riot of jet black curls, the biggest tits of all, and a fat, wobbling bottom behind. Melanie and Louisa were closer to the average, yet young and juicy enough to arouse any man’s interest, while their being sisters added a certain lewd thrill to watching them.

Two were less to his physical taste, both petite, without enough bum and tit to really get him going. It was still a delight watching them, especially Poppy, the village rich-bitch who wouldn’t so much as respond to his greeting as they passed in the street. The other, Coralie, a tiny, flame-haired imp of a girl, was the least appealing, her very vitality seeming to mock him.

The eighth girl was a newcomer, tall and lithe, very slender, with long black hair, brilliant green eyes. Mr Pedlow’s eyes fixed on her as he made another quick adjustment to his position, not because she was new, not because she was any more attractive than the others, but because she had begun to undress.

She did it quickly, with a disregard for her modesty that left him feeling disappointed, but only briefly. Her top came off, peeled up over her head and hung on a tree. Her bra followed, unclipped to expose small, high breasts, very firm, with her nipples pointing out and up, impudent in erection. Her shoes came off, kicked carelessly to one side. Her jeans came down, over long, elegant legs, and were hung with her top and bra. Her thumbs went into the waistband of her little pink panties and down they came, straight away, baring a firm, round bottom.

Mr Pedlow smiled. Tonight, the girls were going all the way.

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