Excerpt: Sally Nichols woke up to the shattering sound of the alarm clock. Groggily, she forced her eyes open to face a new day. Silence, when she stopped the ringing, was heavenly. Stretching her arms above her head, she could feel life spreading through her body. Her bedroom was cool and Sally felt her red nipples hardening as they came in contact with the air. She went into the bathroom and, wrapping a turban towel around her blonde hair, hopped under the shower. Hot needle points of the water slapping against her skin woke her completely. Out of the shower, she dried herself, then walked, naked, back into the bedroom. Gloriously nude in front of her full-length mirror, she surveyed herself. Sally was just twenty-four years old; she had to admit she was beautiful. Her face was perfectly sculptured with a peaches and cream complexion that some women envied. Framing her face were her soft, billowy locks of hair, the color of harvested wheat. Sally's breasts also were beautiful; large (but not too large) mounds of soft, white flesh capped with the reddest of nipples that just begged to be sucked. Sally looked lower, down past her slim, flat stomach to hips that flared in a gentle curve, between which her large triangular patch of pubic hair barely concealed the pink, hair-lined outer lips of her sweet cunt.