Extremes by Lizbeth Dusseau
These ten short stories lure the reader into the far reaches of a woman’s mind where the most tawdry daydreams reside. Bondage, spanking, anal sexuality, exhibitionism, piercing, and sexual slavery are just some of the flagrant extremes brought to full erotic flower. Enjoy, as Lizbeth writes of women who are unafraid to make stunning choices, and pleasure in taking their lust to the limit. Surprises around every corner, some to shock, others to delight and all to stimulate the imagination. For a bold excursion into the erotic.
Includes I Never Complain About A Gangbang where this happy slut picks up men in XXX theatres and lets them have their way with her…just for thrills. Then Mrs. Paltrow is suprised to learn that she’ll be paying off her husband’s Gambling Debt with 48 hours of nasty sex. In Of Roses & Sailers a young woman accepts some ‘special jewelry’ to help her remember her dominant lover when he’s away. Then in The Last Summer a house party of horny young men and women celebrate the end of summer with a wild orgy in the forest, in the dead night. And a beautiful and submissive maiden is presented naked to a Garden Party where she’s used for the pleasure of this lusty crowd. These stories and many more!
Excerpt
From 57Â CHEVY
Like a phantom from his wet daydreams there she is, her long smooth legs dangling beyond the thin dress. Pale pink, peach and faded yellow flowers meander about the transparent fabric, while the dress barely covers her slinky limbs and her thin torso. In the light he sees through the fine material, how her large breasts are pushed against the flowers, how her waist curves, how her hips below blossom, and how she parts her legs so he can see the outline of her cunt. There’s even a damp spot on the dress where she’s pressed her fingers to her hole and the juice has stained it.
“Car broke down?” he asks.
He squints facing the sun, raising his hand over his brow so he can see her better. Tanned arms reveal downy sunbleached hair, matching the windblown straw colored locks that dangle in his face.
“I think so,” she says giggling, though she doesn’t make an effort to move. “You know something about cars?” Something sensuous about her lips, he wants to move right in and kiss them.
“Yeah, sure,” he says. He runs his hands through his hair, pushing it back, and startling blue eyes appear, framed by darker brows. His T-shirt hugs his chest, his nipples poking through as clearly as hers poke through her dress.
He can’t help staring down at her as she bends her knees up to her chest and parts her legs wide. Where her ass meets the hood of the Chevy he can see her bare pink cunt. Caught off guard he stares beyond his embarrassment, as the sun bounces off the gold rings embedded in her labia. Six, he thinks, three on either side, and one wet hole between, he sees glisten in the sun.
“You want me to look under the hood?” he asks. He hesitates, though not his cock, that bobs against his denim blues. Hot – so hot he thinks it might explode.
She giggles again and shakes her head no.
She reaches between her legs, drawing the skirt up just an inch or two, and takes one ring bedecked finger of her right hand and slips it into the small hole. Then she pulls at the piercings, drawing the labia aside so he can see the purple hue of her inner folds.
“You can fuck me if you like,” she whispers softly. In her eyes lust drips like water from a lazy old faucet. Slow and languid her limbs ooze with sexual intent, drawing him into her closer, a step at a time. She sways just slightly as if she’s keeping time to music only her loins can hear . . .
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