Elena’s Lovers by Lizbeth Dusseau
This unusual novel will take you into a world where the line between illusion and reality are blurred, and the path to sexual and emotional fulfillment requires a detour down the dark road of the human psyche. Suspend reason for a while, and let “Elena’s Lovers” take you on this sensuous and startling journey.
On a beach in Spain, in the Arizona desert, and a busy street in San Francisco, Elena meets the most remarkable men of her life. They spirit her away into mystical and sometimes dangerous realms, teach her truths about herself she never imagined, and bring her breathless sexual ecstasy, only to disappear without a trace. Were they real at all, or just her imagination playing tricks with her sanity?
Lyrically written, with a sumptuous feast of provocative sexual interludes, this captivating story will leave you mystified as you journey with Elena and her lovers into this altered world.
They came to her in the evening of the next day, three men with Jose. When they arrived at the adobe at dusk, she’d been eating grapes feeling the cool liquid of the fruit squirt in her mouth delicately.
“You want them all?” Jose asked her, even if it didn’t seem as if he was really asking a question. She had the feeling that this was already decided.
Elena stared at the men for sometime, their gentle, anxious faces, and Jose’s. All dark eyes, and ruddy red Indian skin, and hair that shined. Two were naked to the waist, their chests hairless and shimmering with sweat. One had long hair, untied, that draped his shoulders and fell to his chest nearly waist long. Her eyes drifted to their crotches where inside their white linen pants she could detect no rising organs lusting for her. She approved of their slim hips, the swagger like Jose’s, and rounded rears she wished were unclothed so she could inspect them.
Her gaze moved from their crotches to their faces where she witnessed their desire. It was nothing lewd like the desire of men in bars or on street corners that leered at women. Theirs was pure animal instinct, drive, intent, determination, almost like it was a duty to copulate with her.
Rising from her chair, she smiled at them, and let the white dress that covered her fall to the ground. Even in the dim light they could recognize what she wanted, seeing the seduction in her eyes inviting them to follow her into the adobe.
She might have walked past them without a single touch, but Jose, standing there too, stopped her. The men joined him fondling her, so many hands groveling with her private places, kissing her everywhere, one man at her feet with a mouth to her groin, the man with the long hair in front of her with his hands cupping her breasts.
They parted her ass and fingered her there, her labia, her mouth ~ raised her arms above her head so that they could tickle her skin with their lips as they kissed her.
“She wants no peace tonight, friends. Ravage her,” Jose instructed them.
Pulling away from their hands, Elena moved to the bed, the sexual hunger having stripped her of any remaining propriety. Lying down on Jose’s bed, she spread her legs open, drawing her knees up, knowing how she wanted to feel the penetration deep, to the hilt, to the heart, to every place inside that had not yet been stirred.
One man, stripped of his pants, mounted her. His erection a vivid sight, boldly hard, a thick shaft soaring high with a small head, cleanly circumcised. He kept his weight above her while he thrust. As she desired, the penetration was brisk, his penis buried to the end of her cavern, and Elena greeted the intrusion with her pelvis replying generously.
When the first man pulled away, there was another replacing him. In the silence of the late hour they moved one man to the next in a round of exchanging lovers. The harder they pounded her, the more widely she opened to them, for a long while thinking she wouldn’t stop this: they would have to stop it themselves from fatigue. All four men took pleasure between her thighs, she wasn’t counting climaxes, theirs or her own.
There was a moment, when it felt like there was just one man, not many, their aromas, their masculine touch, the tickle of their skin against her skin, their great penetrating force clamoring for her hole and its riches. She was a goddess, born in those hours at their mercy, giving into the dream where this idea was born.
At other moments though, the four men were distinct. One was savage, like an animal demanding; another moved on her with an easy sensuality that made her feel as if she was fucking herself; in the third she read excitement in his eyes, and the spirited passion that burst from him was like a thrilling carnival ride; the last, the fourth made love to her, her heart suddenly soaring just to see his eyes, every fragment of herself succumbing to his tenderness. Relishing them, not passing judgments on any one, the orgy made her lecherous inclinations clear. Even if it wasn’t reasonable, she knew that what Jose had said was true about her.
Mauling her until she was numb from the perpetual assault, she wondered first how long they’d used her. Later she wondered which one had been Jose, though it seemed he might have been all of them, animal, lust, thrill and heart. But he wouldn’t tell her when she asked him.
“You fucked like a whore,” he said.
“And you think I should be ashamed of myself?”
“That would be pointless.”
“Why am I like this?” she asked.
He shrugged, with no answer.
“You think I’ve always been this way?” she wondered.
“Where it counts? Yes,” he answered her.