Barbara unbuttoned Stephen's thin cotton shirt, then opened it wide to bare his pectorals. Stripping the shirt off of his strong arms, for the first time she saw his smooth, tanned chest that narrowed into slim hips. His chest was broad, and his pectorals were pronounced and beautiful to her. She stopped to kiss each of his breasts and lingered her lips over their nipples.

Aroused by her kisses, he stopped her undressing him then, unable to resist returning his own kisses again to her breasts. She had not liked it when Chet or Ken Knowland had fondled them, but was in ecstasy when Stephen's hands or lips gently touched them.

Straddling him, Barbara clutched her hands to his slender waist, then lower, to his hips. Soon her hands were stroking his abdomen and she leaned down to kiss his navel.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" she asked him. "I'm sure you don't, but you should know you are. I never thought a man could be, but you are beautiful. You are something else, Captain Collier. You are... I'll finally tell you what I've thought you are all these years... You are gorgeous!"

He laughed because he didn't think he was bad-looking, but never really thought of his looks much. He had thought more of his teaching skills and riding ability, and didn't think he had a bad backhand and serve in tennis. He certainly had never thought of himself as being physically anything, much less gorgeous. She smothered his laugh with kisses and tried to assure him he was.

After she had stripped Stephen to his waist, she sat over him for several long moments and admired his upper body again.

How could he be more beautiful?, she asked herself, then anticipated learning the mystery of what his lower body might look like.

Stephen threw out his arms to his side as he lay on his back, as if inviting her to find out, and Barbara began loosening his belt. Once she had the belt open, she reached down and took off his shoes, then his stockings.

He wished she did not waste time down there, but she lingered over that, too. Then she returned to his mid-body and slowly zipped open the fly of his woolen work pants, her fingers lingering over the task which was a joy to her. Even without closing her eyes to fantasize, they were not peasant's pants to her, but his Academy riding breeches, tight-fitting and dark blue with a wide white stripe down each leg. She felt a hot thrill rush through her as she pulled his trousers down off of his hips, then his legs.




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