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Pagan Dreams, Lesbian Erotica - ebook

Product Type:
eBook
Price:
$6.50
SKU:
PF5005
Author:
Publish Date:
2/7/1999
Quantity:
Available Formats:
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Product Description

Pagan Dreams by Lizbeth Dusseau

Female lovers Cassidy and Peach quit the city for the summer, traveling north to The Edge, a B&B playground for sexually open-minded women, run by an experienced Female Dominant, Tasia.

Wanting Peach for herself, Tasia lures her from Cassidy. While the angry Cassidy waits for Peach to return to her, she finds her own dominant tendencies are brought from hiding as she’s seduced by the mysterious waif, Analise. Cruelly taking this innocent initiate through bondage, whipping, anal probing and other S&M tortures. Yet only the Midsummer Madness and a stunning confrontation with Tasia gives Cassidy the fulfillment she desires.

A fantasy of love and surrender, of twisted motives and crude sexual practices for readers who enjoy the sensuous extremes of lesbian sexuality.

(Masquerade Books edition of this title previously published under the penname Elizabeth Oliver)


Excerpt

“Cassidy, right there,” she instructs me, as my hands find her special spot. I drop to my knees, I want to see it, tongue it, watch it burst. Her cunt is dark, a silky bush of hair covers plump brown labia. I spread the hair and the lips to find her clitoris. It’s become a hard throbbing finger.
It only takes a few gentle sweeps of my tongue to discover what she likes best, what makes her throw her head back in a passionate stupor. She grabs my hair to keep her balance. So easily she could tumble to the floor, but I keep her stable. I want her to remember only that this was the most exquisite orgasm she’s ever had.
Her cries are nearly inaudible, but to me they are like an ocean roaring with waves of fervent bliss that crash at my ears.
She claws my hair.
She tenses.
I work faster with my tongue against her clitoris, my fingers passing through her hole to bring her twin pleasures. Her channel around my fingers squeezes them tightly, a spasm of orgasm and then another. They seem to be rippling through her, one after another in an unending stream. My hands and face are covered with her juices. They taste salty and sweet, that fragrant musk of sweat, makes my own cunt ready.
When it’s over, she slips down against the shelf of books, till she’s on the floor beside me. Her legs are open, her cunt exposed. She almost looks as if she’s airing out. The sweet contentment written on her face is lustful, peace filled pure. If this is all she ever gives me, it is enough. I couldn’t want anything more than to see the love obsession of my life this happily satisfied.
She opens her eyes. There’s a cute smile on her face.
“You don’t think you’re getting away from me you slut,” she says. No one has ever called me slut. I like the name.
She reaches in and begins to paw my thighs, though they’re covered in denim; I admit I wasn’t as well prepared as she.
“Here? A little risky isn’t it,” I say.
“Hey, you little tramp, I took the risk and so shall you, even if you do get caught with your pants down.” She’s adamant, unbuttoning the waist and unzipping the zipper, and then pulling firmly on my jeans until they are at my ankles. She leans over, lays me down and begins to plant her mouth on my needy clit. She goes straight for the center where the best feelings reside.
She licks with a gentle, but experienced tongue.
It won’t take long, and it doesn’t.
With her hands climbing all over my thighs and reaching inside my shirt to my tits, she brings me off, raises me up, tears me in two. My entire body is gasping, letting go, struggling to let free all three weeks worth of piled up lust.
I’m afraid I’m too loud, but for at least twenty seconds, I couldn’t give a damn who hears.
We both collapse in an abbreviated hug, her head to my belly, until I become too scared of being so exposed in a public building.
“You don’t mind my calling you Peach?” I ask.
“I like it. Almost as much as I like you,” she says. “This was a good idea you had,” she continues.
This is where I’m most afraid. What if it’s only been a lark for her and nothing more. God please, I promise to be good, if you don’t make that so, I pray silently.
“I want to see you again,” I tell her.
“God, I hope so,” she replies, “but can we do it some place besides this library, my God this floor is too hard!”
We pick each other up laughing, and walk out arm in arm.
That is, after I’m zipped and buttoned again.

Artist Credit

Copyright (c) Tony Ryan

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