Lula Lisbon’s titles are available at Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, Amazon, Kobo, Lulu, Rainbow eBooks, iTunes, Sony, Diesel, and other online distributors. Please click a title to jump to its excerpt below.
One-Off Short Stories
A Love Transcending (Trans Man, Cis Woman, sweet erotic romance)
Back-Alley Slut (F/f, BDSM erotic romance erotica)
Groupie Sex (F/F/m/m/m/m BDSM femdom gangbang erotica)
My Double-Dyke Domination (F/F/f BDSM threesome erotica)
Doubled: An Erotic Science Fiction Novelette (F/f, m/F/f, pseudo-twincest, lesbian first time, science fiction erotica)
Butch Domme, Femme Slut
- Begging for a Spanking (F/f BDSM, voyeur f, erotic romance erotica)
- Spanking on the Subway (F/f BDSM erotica)
Herburt East: Refuckinator (M/M erotica horror parody in three parts)
- Colette’s Blackmailing (F/F/f BDSM defloration, pseudo-incest, voyeur, strapon erotica)
Lula Lisbon’s Diaries of a Dirty Dancer (Semi-autobiographical Confessional erotica)
- Lesbian Lapdance (F/F lesbian first time, femdom, voyeur cuckold male erotica)
- Foot Fetish Lapdance (forthcoming) (F/m femdom foot fetish erotica)
- Ballbusting Lapdance (forthcoming) (F/m femdom ballbusting CBT erotica)
- Bulldyke Lapdance (forthcoming) (F/F lesbian packing strap-on erotica)
Pumping His Iron
Wolf Moon Quartet *5 STAR RECOMMENDED READ AT HOTLY EVER AFTER* (An erotic alternate-world retelling of Little Red Riding Hood)
- Wolf Moon: Redd’s First Ride (F/m, M/f, light BDSM, femdom, maledom, spicy erotic romance erotica)
Blurb: Diana’s had a crush on her best friend James, a trans man, ever since she met first him a year ago. Recently, he’s been appearing in her dreams, and she’s discovering that her heart is longing for his embrace and his love. Can she gather up the courage to tell him how she feels on a private picnic in the woods? Is he ready to accept the tender love that he’s been hiding from her for so long?
This 4,831-word sweet erotic romance contains sexually explicit scenes, but treats the trans experience with loving respect.
The following is an excerpt from A Love Transcending, by Lula Lisbon. Copyright Lula Lisbon 2012.
I watched a pair of birds circling each other, and I wondered if it was a mating dance. I leaned back on my elbows, the April sunshine warm and sweet on my face through the glowing leaves above. Far below, a silver snake of river flowed, and if I listened hard, I could almost hear the water. The breeze rustled the leaves, and I felt myself drifting.
“Diana–” I jumped at his voice, and turned around quickly. He stood there, a strange little smile on his face, his eyes shy. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I found these for you – I mean, I want to make you something before we eat.” James held a large bouquet of pink and lilac flowers, which looked like violets, though I wasn’t sure. He gracefully sank into a cross-legged seat on the blanket and began to plait the thin, flexible stems together. As he worked, I fixed our plates.
“What are you making?” The chain of plaited flowers grew, but he only looked at me with that strange little smile. The leaves above gave us a cool, dappled shade, but there was a heat in his eyes that was almost too much for me to hope for. Overwhelmed, I kept my eyes on my hands, toying with a plastic cup of sparkling water that I remembered to sip from occasionally. When I’d gathered the nerve to look again, the rope of violets had become a circlet.
“I’ve always thought that you should wear a crown,” James said softly as he laid it on my hair. The breeze picked up just then, blowing shimmering strands into my face. He brushed them gently aside, fingertips grazing my cheek, the corner of my lips. I opened my mouth to speak, to thank him, to say something, anything, but he looked away and I lost my nerve. My cheeks felt hot, and all I could do was silently hand him a plate. I nibbled a piece of Brie before taking a strawberry and dipping it in whipped cream. I still couldn’t look at him, but I felt his eyes on me as I bit into it, the tartness of its red juice mingling with the sweet, thick cream over my tongue.
“Look at me,” his tenor voice broke the silence. I felt his warm fingers on my chin as he turned my face towards him. I felt a little dizzy as he wiped away a bit of whipped cream from my lower lip with the pad of his thumb, and he seemed to hesitate the tiniest bit before licking his thumb clean. I couldn’t help the little whimper that escaped me – I wanted his tongue on me, his lips on me, his strong arms around me. He studied me then, raising an eyebrow.
“Diana,” he started. My tongue darted out, finding the place where his thumb had been, imagining that I tasted the salt of his skin mixed with the sweet of the cream. His eyes followed the sweep of my tongue, and he closed his eyes briefly. He turned his face away. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to ruin what we have. I— I can’t lose you.”
My hand, almost of its own accord, drifted up and stroked his short, dark hair. The backs of my fingers brushed his cheeks, feeling where he’d just shaved, brushing the sideburns that accented the handsome lines of his face. He leaned into my touch like a cat, and I turned his face back to my own with two gentle fingers. Our eyes met, and I held his face in my hands, his sweet face that had appeared in my dreams night after night.
I opened my mouth to speak, but found that I couldn’t. The look on his face, eager, yet frightened, stabbed my heart, and without warning tears spilled down my cheeks. One dripped off my chin, and I could feel it running down the smooth curve of my right breast. James wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his lap, his lips kissing the wet trails away. My hands snaked around his slim waist and I locked my fingers together behind his back, silently begging him not to let me go. He rained kisses on my cheeks, my eyelids, my jaw, but studiously avoided my mouth. The knowledge made me cry more, that he loved me enough to keep me at arm’s length, all for fear of losing me.
They’d talked about it for so long… the sexy femme comes over dressed like a slut, wearing a coat over her naughty clothing for modesty. The Butch asks for her coat, then locks them outside. What’s a bad little subfemme to do? She soon finds out – she’ll have to service Sir Butch in the back alley, with passersby just inches away… can subfemme take what her Butch is packing?
WARNING: Adults only. This 3877-word erotica short contains lesbian BDSM, public outdoor sex, voyeurism, strap-ons, and romance. Will leave you dizzy and gasping for more!
The following is an excerpt from “Back-Alley Slut,” by Lula Lisbon. Copyright 2012 by Lula Lisbon.
I break the kiss, and see the dizzied dismay in your eyes.
“Give it to me, or I’ll take it,” I growl. Lust and fear compete for control inside you; I can read them on your pretty face as clearly as clouds crossing the darkening October skies. I pretend to lose patience. In one smooth motion I appropriate the coat, tearing it off of you by one lapel, carelessly tossing it aside against the weather-stained brick wall. You gasp, wrapping your arms around your scantily clad body, suddenly frigid in the cool fall gloaming.
“Put your arms down!” I bark. “Did you obey me and wear everything I told you to?”
Nodding miserably, shivering, you comply with my command. I grin wolfishly and my eyes rake your body, absorbing every delicious detail. I am thoroughly titillated by what I see: a tight black cropped cami with red lace bra underneath, shiny black micro-mini that might as well be a belt for all it covers, ruffled black garter-belt holding up black fishnet stockings, red patent-leather stripper heels. You’re as nervous as a first-time hooker, here in the tiny courtyard outside my door, and it’s an incredibly potent aphrodisiac.
I back you up into the corner next to my front door, and against the rough brick wall, I pin both your wrists above your head with one hand. My denim-clad leg tucks between the ruffled garters on your fishnet-clad thighs and rubs your already wet pussy underneath your slutty little skirt. My chest pressing against your huge tits, I take your jaw in my other hand, angle your face slightly, and shove my tongue in your mouth. One of my many gestures demonstrating that I’m in charge, that you’re my eager whore, that I’ll always make you mine. Mine, always mine.
I move my hot, wet mouth from yours to your earlobes, I bite and nibble your neck in the spots that are so easy for me to find. In a husky undertone, I describe exactly what I’m going to make you do to please me, enjoying your small noises of passionate obeisance. I grind my thigh deliberately against you, silently cursing the thin fabric between my flesh and your pulsing clit; the contact forces a brief, high-pitched squeal from your damp throat. I pull away and look you in the eyes, order you to take off your panties and hand them to me. You gasp and hesitate for just a second.
“Did I stutter, you little back-alley slut? Do it now!” Your heart pounding, you bend down and submit, quickly unsnapping your garters, dropping the panties to your dainty ankles, and re-snapping each of the four garters back onto your fishnet stockings. I stand there, arms crossed, avidly watching your every movement. Finally, you shyly hand me your scanty, soaking panties. I hold them up for inspection, and glide my fingers against the soaked cotton crotch. Staring into your eyes, I slowly apply the wetness to my lips like gloss. I lick my lips, testing, and make a noise of approval. Your eyes widen, feeling your freshly shaven pussy throb with need.
I grab your wrists suddenly, roughly, and force you around to face the bricks of the courtyard’s inside corner. I use your wet panties to tightly tie your hands behind your back. You feel me pressing behind you, your cheek forced against the chilly dividing wall. I grind my turgid cock against your bare bottom, moving slightly – just enough to tease, just enough to make you gasp, just enough to make you drip. My arms snake around your waist, sliding into the bottom of your tight crop-top. My hands move up and grasp your luscious tits, their sweet pink nubs straining like diamonds against that lacy bra you know I like.
I pinch your nipples suddenly and viciously. You jump and moan. I feel your juices start to soak through my jeans and it drives me wild. I keep working my dong slowly against the sweet curve of your ass, and you whimper. I smile; I’m just getting started.
I lick my lips, tasting the lingering musky sweetness of your essence. I feel an answering gush of my own wetness; it runs slowly down the silky lips of my just-shaven snatch. Almost involuntarily, my fuck-ready hips grind against your tight bum and I inhale your scent: sweet, musky, vanillaflowersexy. I feel you quivering against me, caught between my hot body and the cold wall, hands tied tight with your own moist panties; you’re hyperaware of the city’s cacophony, dreading being caught, wondering what I’ll do next. Your fear only intensifies my excitement.
I graze my lips tenderly against of back of your neck, silk against silk, tongue darting out to taste how your skin tingles from my touch. I roll your nipples between my fingers, light then hard, hard then light, unpredictably, enjoying the trembling it conjures through your body. Your uncontrollable panting sets my cunt on fire with the need to fuck you senseless. I can’t help but bite your taut neck hard, then licking, then biting again; testing you, testing your limits, testing your desire, reveling in your fear and lust. I feel it coming from your skin like clouds of steam, and it’s a stream of electricity straight to my swollen clit, sensually snug behind its huge strap-on cock.
My touch glides over your skin, and with your hands bound, you’re helpless to control what I do. Your body trembles like prey in a trap. My hands leave you, leaving your skin to cool, then return. You feel the icy touch of metal against your back, and for a split second you feel utter panic. You hear the soft snick of scissors cutting your tiny shirt from the moist heat of your skin; I’d had a pair tucked into my back pocket for just this reason. Your tiny clothes fall away one by one like dead leaves, dropping limply aside onto the dirty, cracked concrete. First your tight top comes away, and then your lacy bra is cut apart, and then your short skirt. I leave the garter belt and stockings; I want to fuck you just like that. You hear my breath come harder. You know I’m pleased, you feel cool air; my fingers rake across the damp expanse of your freshly bared nudity.
Blurb: Bisexual rocker Angie’s a bored manager at a music venue having a secret affair with hot lesbian waitress Rae. When a sexy rock band comes to headline and can’t pay their tab, the devious Angie plots the ultimate orgy with Rae. The two women use blackmail to dominate the unwilling guys into their first gay experiences with their own band mates! They soon learn how to rock out with their cocks out!
Warning: This 5,543-word erotica story contains FFmmmm, forced gay sex, femdom, lesbianism, bisexual men, bisexual women, spanking, forced straight cunnilingus on a lesbian, menage, group sex, gay blow jobs, and more. Adults only! All characters are over 18.
The following is an excerpt of “Groupie Sex,” by Lula Lisbon. Copyright 2012 Lula Lisbon.
The band filtered in sheepishly, and it hit her. They were In Through the Out Door, a well-known Zeppelin tribute band. Angie had seen them play several times on other occasions when they’d stopped in town on previous tours. She had to admit to herself that she’d lusted after them like some common vapid groupie, despite her experience in the industry. They looked the part, too, with their long manes, scruffy facial hair, slim-fitting clothes and lean, buff physiques – lugging heavy equipment around all the time surely helped with that. Angie had always had a huge weak spot for long-haired rockers, and in a flash, inspiration struck. She grinned evilly, and her pierced nipples instantly hardened, contained only by a tight black tank top with no bra.
“So, boys,” she drawled, leaning back in her office chair and languidly toying with a pen. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Uh… well, we kinda didn’t realize that we’re like, sorta broke,” the black-haired one that she knew was the guitarist explained meekly. “The last bar fucked us on – excuse my language, miss – screwed us on money, and we didn’t know it until we tried to pay just now.”
“But we’re not bad dudes,” the brown-haired, goateed bassist insisted. “We’ll definitely work to make it up to you.”
“Yeah, we feel terrible.” the blond drummer chimed in. “We can like, wash dishes or bar-back or something. We don’t play for another few hours since we’re headlining.”
“Hmm,” Angie mused, pretending to consider. “Who are you guys again?”
“We’re In Through the Out Door, the Zeppelin tribute band. We’re on our national tour,” the singer explained. Angie, like any fangirl, really thought he was the hottest one with his waist-long, wavy light brown hair and lightly muscled arms. From the looks of him, all that singing had bestowed him with a great set of washboard abs. It was even easy to see a fair resemblance to a young Robert Plant.
“Ohh, that’s right,” she replied, feigning sudden remembrance, not really caring about the obvious giveaway that the pile of press kits in front of her proclaimed. “I think I’ve maybe heard of you guys before.”
Angie was really enjoying how uncomfortable and embarrassed they looked. Her pussy throbbed and she could feel her juices flowing. She’d always been dominant in her encounters with both men and women, but she had always gotten off harder humiliating men. She always wanted to make guys like that into crying little bitches, and she found it especially exciting when they were taller and had longer hair than her. With Angie’s petite stature and stylish asymmetrical pink-and-blonde bob, that wasn’t hard to do. Not that they couldn’t consider themselves forewarned, in her opinion; her full tattoo sleeves, multiple piercings, and penchant for black leather clothing should have given all her victims some clues as to what was in store.
“Unfortunately,” Angie explained, “we already have a dishwasher and bar-backs here, so it really wouldn’t be fair to our employees for you to be taking money out of their pockets. We’ll just have to come up with another way.”
She noticed Rae hanging back, just outside of the office door. She caught the waitress’ eye, winked, and jerked her chin, motioning to her to come in.
“Shut the door, please, Rae,” the petite blonde purred, knowing the other girl would understand. Although Angie was bi and Rae was a lesbian, the taller girl was quite the voyeur, and knew intimate details about Angie’s proclivities regarding men. Angie was always frank with her current lovers regarding past exploits; and to Rae’s credit, she vicariously relished Angie’s sexual history. Angie had a feeling that the lesbian would be more than happy to take advantage of the delicious situation that had dropped itself so nicely into their laps. Rae closed the door and, using her key since there was no latch, quietly locked it behind her. In their dismay, the guys didn’t even notice.
She came over to Angie, who casually slid an arm around her waist.
“Do you have any ideas, Rae, honey?” The tattooed manager had a feeling Rae would enjoy taking a dominant role for once, for all that she was so utterly submissive in their own encounters.
“Well…” she mused, putting a finger to full pink lips. “I have always wanted to watch two guys kiss.” Angie grinned, proud of Rae for diving in like a champ.
This was met with shock, dismay, and a cacophony of protests.
“What?! We’re not—“
“You can’t make us do that! We gotta—“
“You fucking dykes are sick!”
“—we’re not gay!”
Drummer boy turned angrily on his heel and tried to open the door. Finding it locked, he fumbled for a second before discovering there was no lock button or latch, just a keyhole.
“Fuck!” he spat. “Dude, we’re locked in!”
This revelation was met with even louder protests and curses. A sadist at heart, this turned Angie on even more. It made what she had in mind all the sweeter.
“Boys! Boys!” She shouted over them. “We have the keys and trust me, you’re not going anywhere until you pay off your debt. There’s no bar work for you to do, and I’m the only one in this room with the power to forgive your $190 bill. It’s either this, or I call the police and have them sort all this out.” She paused to let the threat sink in, and smirked to see realization and the dawnings of relent in their eyes.
“If I were you, I’d get over my rock star self and do what this charming young lady says. The first band just went on from the sounds of it, and I’m not letting you out until your debt is paid. So unless you want to miss playing your sold-out show, you’d better get to it. But, to be fair,” Angie continued generously, “we don’t mind going first.”
Rae, a natural exhibitionist, took her cue. She straddled the blonde’s lap, took her face in her hands, and slowly brought their faces together. They kissed softly, delicately, with just the slightest hint of tongue. Rae made little high-pitched mewls when Angie’s hands slid down her curves to cup her ass. The dark-haired girl’s arms snaked around the blonde’s neck, and the kiss deepened. Cunt throbbing, Angie tightened her grip on the firm ass, and rubbed Rae’s denim-covered slit rhythmically on her right hip the way she knew the waitress liked. Rae gasped with pleasure and rode her with gusto, and from the way her body twitched, Ang could tell that it was hitting just the right spot.
Suddenly, the waitress broke the kiss, gave the band a devilishly bright smile, and said, “Okay, it’s your turn now!”
Beth’s hottest fantasy was fulfilled last night: two dominant dykes used her as their submissive little toy. Now, she’s tied to a chair with her own thong, and her strict, demanding Mistress wants her to write about it! Can Beth complete her steamy assignment before her spank-happy Mistress gets too impatient?
Warning: ADULTS ONLY! Contains BDSM, lesbian dominatrixes, humiliation, spanking, and strap-ons. At 6,077 words, this ubersexy story will leave you steamy and moaning for more. Not for the faint of heart!
The following is an excerpt from “My Double-Dyke Domination,” by Lula Lisbon. Copyright 2012 Lula Lisbon.
When I opened the door, your eyes were as hot on my body as I’d pictured in my imagination. My whole world was you as you grabbed me roughly by my hair and hotly kissed me with brazen passion, your tongue stabbing my mouth, your hands skimming greedily down my silk-clad curves. Only as I was gasping for breath after you let me go and swept by me abruptly into my apartment, did I notice that you weren’t alone!
She stood there in the hall, a smug, knowing smirk on her beautiful face. It brought a hot blush to my face knowing she’d been there the whole time. Her clothes looked as expensive and well-made as the ones you’d sent me to wear that evening, and only slightly less provocative. Her chestnut curls cascaded down her body, brushing the sides of her breasts, encased in a tightly laced corset. Her legs and hips looked absolutely poured into shiny latex leggings. I didn’t think it was possible for another woman as gorgeous as you to love women; but yet again, you’ve proven me wrong beyond my wildest dreams.
She kept her eyes on me as she strode past me into my apartment, grabbing me by my wrist as she went, dragging me in and slamming the door. I felt my cheeks grow hot again as she boldly groped me, right there in front of you! She hadn’t even told me her name; she hadn’t even said a word to me, yet here she was, her hands everywhere, and you watching us like a hawk! I was quivering with desire, humiliation, and shock. I couldn’t believe it, and it was better than I’d ever pictured. The night could have ended like that and I could die happy, but you, you had so much more in store for me. My God, you take my breath away, Mistress.
You ordered me to sit on the couch, and you poured wine into the three glasses I just noticed were already placed there. I realized with a start that you must have snuck in when I was in the shower and set all this up without me hearing! My panties were sopping, and as I sat upright with perfect posture, I squeezed my thighs together tightly. Whether it was to control myself or to increase the pleasure, I’m not quite sure.
You pushed a wine glass into my hand and ordered me to drink. You and she (I still hadn’t heard her voice, much less her name!) sipped at your own glasses, standing over me, gazing lustily at my body. I’m short, and the two of you must be at least 5 inches taller than me even without heels. Standing over me like that, both of you dressed to kill, I felt like I was being judged by two sky-high goddesses, and I quivered with a mixture of fear and desire. I didn’t want to make a wrong move, I wanted to serve you both, as well as I could, and not make a mistake.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I finished my wine. You both sat down next to me, and my nipples hardened instantly as the two of you inched closer towards me on the couch. You grabbed my hands tightly behind my back while her hands deftly unbuttoned my tight silk blouse. Before I knew it, she’d pulled it down around my arms, and you tied it somehow behind my back, capturing my wrists. My pulse was racing and I let out a half-moan, half-whimper. It made the two of you stare at me with devious smiles, a pair of cats about to devour spilled cream. I shuddered with excitement, my pierced nipples like granite pebbles rubbing against the silk lining of my pretty bra.
I felt helpless, small, and utterly aroused with you behind me, biting and licking my neck, and her in front of me, roughly pinching my nipples through my bra. Your hands skated down my curves, enjoying my softness, pulling me against you between your long, smooth legs. She turned my face to the side with one hand, pulled your head in close with the other, and the three of us shared a long, luscious three-way kiss. My first, and I knew instantly I wanted many more! Tongues intertwining, breaths mingling; I love being caught in between two amazingly sexy women taking what they want from me, compelling my obeisance, giving me pain or pleasure at a whim. Oh, Mistress, I’m so completely turned on simply remembering this, I can barely stand it! …Yet I sensed the two of you had so much more in store for me. I couldn’t have dreamed what you had planned for me, and I still wonder how I ever got this lucky!
I had already long since soaked my panties through, and I knew you knew it. I can’t help how wet I get. As the kiss continued, I felt your hands skimming lower over my tight miniskirt, teasing me, while she caressed and pinched my breasts. She played with the glittering catch in front but didn’t immediately undo it. The two of you seemed to be on the same wavelength, in silent communication, a meeting of glances and of minds and of lusts, intent on my total seduction and subjugation. I felt your hand slipping into the leg of my tiny lace panties, sampling my sweet moisture, and then you brought it up for the three of us to lap off your fingers like honey.
She broke the kiss and stood up in front of the couch. You smiled, placed your hand on the back of my neck and pushed me to the floor on my knees, hands still bound behind my back, my hot cunt sopping wet, and panting for more. Your hand rested there, gentle yet iron-firm. She slowly peeled off her leggings, posing seductively as she did so. Then she slipped off her silky soaked g-string, put one foot up on your thigh.
Dr. Rachelle is a beautiful ex-model now working on top-secret government technology. After observing cloned lab animals recognize each other, a crazy idea strikes her: if she were the first to clone a human, she’d go down in the history books! Visions of money and power dance in her head, but she can’t deny that in the back of her mind, she’s always secretly wanted to be with another woman. What will happen when she first sees her clone and finds that she is far more dominant than the original? And will Rachelle’s boyfriend, Paul, enjoy this intriguing turn of events just as much?
This 12,183-word erotic novelette is intended for adults only. It contains first-time lesbian sex, fisting, squirting, oral sex, anal, cock-sucking, bisexuality, BDSM, bondage, threesome sex, menage, and more! Not for the closed-minded!
From the author:
I’d had the plot for this novelette in mind for quite some time, actually. I keep a running file of ideas which I add to as inspiration strikes, as it usually does at random moments such as in the shower, or half-asleep in bed. I thought: how sexy would it be if this gorgeous, intelligent woman had the ability and drive to make a fully formed clone of herself, and the wild possibilities that would open up? Now, I know current technology doesn’t work this way, but hey, it’s science fiction.
So we have beautiful Dr. Rachelle, a workaholic who barely has time for her boyfriend, let alone exploring her curiosity regarding her sexual feelings for women. But here comes this fantastic opportunity to take a plunge into the unknown, possibly paving the way to untold fame and riches due to her discovery.
I don’t think that money is the first thing on her mind when she sees the gorgeous naked woman step out of the cloning machine, though. Her clone, Lily, also seems to have other things on her mind, and unlike shy Rachelle, isn’t afraid to take what she wants!
As for Paul, Rachelle’s boyfriend — well, what guy wouldn’t love to be greeted with two beautiful women without the slightest possibility of jealousy?
I’m very excited about my debut into Amazon’s Select program with the release of my first novelette, Doubled. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!
Blurb: After realizing her burning attraction for other women, beautiful young Jenna is searching for The One. She loves being romanced, but she knows she needs much more from life: a merciless spanking, domination, and a good hard fucking. Will the older butch power-dyke she met online be able to give her what she’s always been craving? First in the “Butch Domme, Femme Slut” series!
Warning: ADULTS ONLY. This 5,400 word erotica story contains romance, masturbation, spanking, BDSM, voyeurism, humiliation and strap-ons. Will leave you dripping and gasping for more punishment!
The following is an excerpt from “Begging For A Spanking: Butch Domme, Femme Slut Series #1,” by Lula Lisbon. Copyright 2012 Lula Lisbon.
As the Cadillac pulled up to Jenna’s rowhouse minutes later, Ruby took her chin in one hand and looked deeply into her eyes.
“I’ll be thinking of you, and I mean to see you again soon,” she said honestly, pulling Jenna towards her. Their lips met, Ruby firmly taking the lead in the kiss; her lips were soft yet insistent, the point of her tongue slipping into Jenna’s soft pink mouth, flicking, testing, teasing. Jenna felt her nipples crinkling tightly, her secret pearl instantly responding. Ruby wrapped one strong arm around Jenna’s small waist, and she leaned into Ruby’s embrace like a candle melting in hot sun. The kiss was everything to her in that moment, and she couldn’t help moaning softly as her mouth was hotly ravished. She felt dizzy as Ruby pulled away, that same knowing smile from earlier playing on her lips, intensity in her dark eyes. She laid one last, delicate kiss on the corner of Jenna’s reddened, swollen lips, whispering, “Good night, sweet girl.”
In her bed that night, Jenna’s mind whirled. She’d never felt like this after a first date, her whole body still tingling, and she tossed restlessly. Her body ached for more of Ruby’s touch, and the contrast of the woman’s explicit profile and her chivalrous manner that night had Jenna wildly enthralled. She ran her small hands slowly over her body, remembering the kiss, remembering the overtly sexual profile. Jenna’s nipples were tight, hard buds atop her generous breasts, and she relished the feel of them under her fingertips. She traced the hourglass curve of her waist and smooth round hips, running fingers over the hard point of her pelvis, down towards her soft mons venus. She gently caressed the top of her smoothly waxed bikini line, relishing the velvety-soft skin there, crowned with a small tuft of silky strawberry-colored hair.
Her left hand slid upwards again, cupping her breast, flicking its tight nub with one finger; her right delicately slid downwards, middle finger parting silken lips to slide through her generous moisture, which had been pooling there for hours. Jenna stroked the wetness over her erect clit, gasping with pleasure as her fingers circled it rhythmically. Again she felt Ruby’s tongue exploring her mouth, and she matched the movement of her fingers to the kiss. She pictured that tongue on her sensitive button, insistent, confident, relentless, and her breath came harder and faster as her body enthusiastically responded.
Jenna kneaded her breast, pinching the nipple hard as her other hand worked: faster, slower, faster, enjoying the feel of her baby-soft skin, her wet slit, the texture of hard clit and creamy pussy. She pictured Ruby in full-body black latex, of Ruby throwing her naked over that latex-clad lap, holding her wrists together behind her back with one hard fist as she administered a merciless bare-handed spanking on Jenna’s sweet young bum. She writhed in her bed, the fantasy crystal-clear in her mind, and with that, her orgasm exploded. Her body tightened, legs stiffening as hard waves of pure pleasure swept over her. Her cries of ecstasy rang loud in her ears, extending her passion, feeding into her passion. She could barely breathe, her hand working tirelessly, until finally the orgasm slowly receded, leaving her exhausted.
I haven’t come that hard since… well, I don’t even know how long, she thought dazedly. And it’s only been a kiss. As she drifted to sleep, she marveled at what Ruby had done to her with just a kiss… and what she could do, would do to her with much more.
Blurb: Pretty femme Jenna and older butch Ruby have a date tonight, but Jenna’s stuck late running errands for work. When an intimidating leather dyke catches her secretly masturbating while waiting for the subway, she runs away in embarrassment. But what will happen to Jenna’s ass when the dyke finds her again on the subway after rush hour?
Warning: Adults only. All characters are at least 18. Contains public sex, public masturbation, spanking, BDSM, oral, and humiliation.
The following is an excerpt from Spanking on the Subway, by Lula Lisbon. Copyright 2012 Lula Lisbon.
Carefully studying a picture of a young blonde on her knees servicing an imposing domme’s huge black cock, Jenna didn’t notice the older leather dyke approaching. She sat down on a neighboring bench, watching Jenna without a word. The woman had the lean, hard build of an athlete, maybe a tennis player, but with an unmistakable punk rock air. A black leather motorcycle jacket was slung casually over one taut shoulder, white tank top displaying colorful tattoo sleeves on both arms, and she propped one boot across a denim-covered knee in a figure-four. She exuded a naturally commanding air, and her platinum hair was shorn in a severe military cut. Like a hungry lion, licking her lips, the tough dyke eyed the deliciously oblivious femme: her slim legs were crossed tightly, a flattering pencil skirt hugged her curves, and she was biting her pretty pink lower lip as she studied her phone intently.
Jenna flipped through to the next picture and shivered with desire. The blonde was now flung over a table, ass up, her mouth full of a dildo which was suction-cupped to the surface in front of her as she took the domme’s cock hard from behind. Jenna blushed, feeling her pussy juices soaking through her panties, and she squeezed her thighs tighter. The pressure felt exquisite on her clit, and, closing her eyes, she concentrated on the sensation, on rhythmically pulsing her legs together. Her need to come again was unbearable, and she knew that it would only take her a few minutes.
Warning: Adults only. All characters are at least 18. Contains pseudo-incest, spanking, BDSM, voyeurism, lesbian threesome, defloration, and more.
The following is an excerpt from Colette’s Blackmailing, by Lula Lisbon. Copyright 2012 Lula Lisbon.
“Well,” Judy said slyly, “I’d like to know a few things. Now, answer me truthfully: have you ever been with a man?”
Colette’s jaw dropped; she was taken aback by her step-aunt’s suddenly blunt question. Colette had made out with a few boys here and there, but having just graduated from a strict all-girls’ Catholic high school, she just hadn’t had much opportunity to meet many. With other girls, though… that was another story. She was too shy to let her aunt know everything about what she’d done with them, even though she knew Judy was a lesbian.
“You heard me. Have you ever been with a man?” Judy’s tone deflated any further attempts at deflection.
“N— no, Aunt Judy, unless you mean some kissing and light petting. But I’ve never touched a boy’s— well, you know.”
Judy made a noise of approval, a smile playing on her rose-painted lips. “So you’re a virgin, then?”
Colette blushed. She knew her aunt was something of a black sheep, so she’d always felt comfortable telling Judy her most intimate secrets — but for some reason it was different now. She felt a little strange, but tried to ignore the burgeoning little flutter inside her panties.
“Y— yes, Aunt Judy.” She felt her face grow hotter as the two older women held her in their stern gazes; she felt like a small rabbit, cornered by two big cats.
“And have you been with other girls your age? Or maybe even women… a little older?” Moira asked, her low, smoky voice redolent of cigarettes and brandy. She toyed with a heavy gold chain at her neck, her dark eyes never leaving the younger girl’s face. Colette dropped her gaze to the floor. If Aunt Judy had been alone, she wouldn’t feel quite so uncomfortable disclosing everything she’d done in the dormitories at school, but Moira was nearly a stranger to her, and Colette felt uncharacteristically reticent. The silence dragged on, color staining Colette’s cheeks a darker and darker pink as the moments ticked by.
“Well? Answer Moira, my dear!” Judy snapped, her voice ringing with a more commanding tone than Colette had ever heard her favorite aunt use.
“I— well, yes, Aunt Judy, I’ve been with a few other girls,” she admitted reluctantly. “Mostly in the dorms in senior year, after lights out, but sometimes in other places too. We were horny, just turned eighteen, and there weren’t any boys around at our school. I mean, what else were we supposed to do? I had a lot of fun this past year. One time, I even snuck out to go to an amateur night at a strip club! I’m pretty proud to say that I won second place, $250!”
Judy raised an eyebrow. “That must have been some performance. Does your mother know about any of this?”
Colette looked horrified. “God, no! I think she’d disown me! You know how she feels about that kind of stuff!” Judy only smiled in response.
“I think I speak for both Judy and myself in that I’m very curious to see the sort of routine you did to win that money, my dear,” Moira said deviously, eyes slitted. Colette’s heart pounded, and her stomach dropped. She knew she was dripping wet, confessing all this, but stripping for her aunt and her aunt’s friend? That was going too far!
“I— I couldn’t possibly!” She stammered, flustered. Moira’s amused smile grew cold.
“I think you can, and will, if you don’t want your mother to find out what a little whore you’ve been! And right under all the nuns’ noses, no less.”
In this erotic spoof of the classic horror tale, Dr. Herburt East is a man possessed by his obsession for finding a way to reanimate the dead – as well as for his assistant’s tight body! East’s ancestor was blessed by a love-stricken demi-goddess with the gift of bestowing eternal life through his seed. The Doctor insists he has inherited the gift, but only his sadistic scientific mind can unlock the secret to its proper use. Soon though, all goes terribly wrong…
In this, erotica author Lula Lisbon writes under the name D.P. Lustcraft. Available as a serial in three parts, or as a complete bundle, including a BONUS paranormal erotica story by Lula Lisbon! Warning: This erotic spoof contains gay sex, oral sex, and terror. All characters are over 18. Adults only!
The following is an excerpt from “Herburt East: Refuckinator” by Lula Lisbon, writing as D.P. Lustcraft. Copyright 2012 Lula Lisbon.
Of Herburt East, who was my lover in college and in after life, I can speak only with extreme arousal tinged with terror. This fear-tainted arousal is not due altogether to the sinister manner of his recent disappearance, but was engendered by the whole nature of his life-work, and first gained its acute form more than seventeen years ago, when we were in the third year of our course at the Peniskatonic University Medical School in Jerkham. While he was with me, the wonder and diabolism of his experiments fascinated me utterly; no less also did our two lean masculine bodies entwined in illicit passion, and I was his closest companion. Now that he is gone and the spell is broken, the lust is less blinding, and the actual fear is greater. Memories and possibilities are ever more hideous than realities.
The first forbidden incident of our acquaintance was the greatest shock I ever experienced, and it is only with reluctance that I repeat it. As I have said, it happened when we were in the medical school where East had already made himself notorious through his wild theories on the nature of death and the possibility of overcoming it artificially. He revealed to me one night that through his sizable member coursed a most rare and precious gift: his semen was a re-animating solution, blessed through an incident in which a love-smitten demi-goddess had granted an ancestor the power of bestowing immortal life by way of his seed. Of course, I scoffed and refuted his claim, for not a year before had his mother’s father died of some wasting disease, and his wife of a broken heart not long after. He countered with the argument that although of divine providence, the proper scientific procedures had not been developed in order to make proper use of this alleged gift, as according to family lore the demi-goddess had been a clever trickster; and East believed himself the brilliant mind to unlock the secret at last and thusly gain access to his birthright.
His views, which were widely ridiculed by the faculty and by his fellow-students, further hinged on the essentially mechanistic nature of life; and concerned means for operating the organic machinery of mankind by calculated chemical action after the failure of natural processes. In his experiments with various animating solutions mixed with differing amounts of his seed, he had killed and treated immense numbers of rabbits, guinea-pigs, cats, dogs, and monkeys, till he had become the prime nuisance of the college. Several times he had actually obtained signs of life in animals supposedly dead; in many cases violent signs but he soon saw that the perfection of his process, if indeed possible, would necessarily involve a lifetime of research as well as ever-increasing amounts of his creamy ejaculate, which I knew firsthand to be of the most rare and exquisite taste and texture. It likewise became clear that, since the same solution never worked alike on different organic species, he would require human subjects for further and more specialised progress. It was here that he first came into conflict with the college authorities, and was debarred from future experiments by no less a dignitary than the dean of the medical school himself – the learned and benevolent Dr. Allan Ballsey, whose work in behalf of the stricken is recalled by every old resident of Jerkham.
I had always been exceptionally tolerant of East’s pursuits, and after many of our illicit sexual rendezvous, we frequently discussed his theories, whose ramifications and corollaries were almost infinite. Holding with Haeckel that all life is a chemical and physical process, and that the so-called “soul” is a myth, my friend believed that artificial reanimation of the dead can depend only on the condition of the tissues; and that unless actual decomposition has set in, a corpse fully equipped with organs may with suitable measures be set going again in the peculiar fashion known as life. That the psychic or intellectual life might be impaired by the slight deterioration of sensitive brain-cells which even a short period of death would be apt to cause, East fully realised. It had at first been his hope to find a reagent which, mixed with his juices, would restore vitality before the actual advent of death, and only repeated failures on animals had shewn him that the natural and artificial life-motions were incompatible. He then sought extreme freshness in his specimens, injecting his lust-tainted solutions into the veins immediately after the extinction of life. It was this circumstance which made the professors so carelessly sceptical, for they felt that true death had not occurred in any case. They did not stop to view the matter closely and reasoningly.
It was not long after the faculty had interdicted his work that East confided to me his resolution to get fresh human bodies in some manner, and continue in secret the experiments he could no longer perform openly. To hear him discussing ways and means was rather ghastly, for at the college we had never procured anatomical specimens ourselves. Whenever the morgue proved inadequate, two local negroes attended to this matter, and they were seldom questioned. East was then a small, slender, spectacled youth with delicate features, yellow hair, pale blue eyes, a soft voice, and – I must add – a shockingly large and delicious cock for a man of his slight stature; it was uncanny to hear him dwelling on the relative merits of Christchurch Cemetery and the potter’s field. We finally decided on the potter’s field, because practically every body in Christchurch was embalmed; a thing of course ruinous to East’s researches.
I was by this time his active and enthralled assistant and lover; in addition to milking his luscious cock no less than three times a day with hungry mouth and ass, I helped him make all his decisions, not only concerning the source of bodies but concerning a suitable place for our loathsome work. It was I who thought of the deserted Crapman farmhouse beyond Field Hill, where we fitted up on the ground floor an operating room and a laboratory, each with dark curtains to conceal all of our midnight doings. In addition to the obvious benefits to our research work, the location was also ideal for me to service his frequent needs: the meagre boarding-house in which East lived had thin walls, and his fervent cries of passion tended to the greatest of timbres under my enthusiastic ministrations. The place was far from any road, and in sight of no other house, yet precautions were none the less necessary; since rumours of strange lights, started by chance nocturnal roamers, would soon bring disaster on our enterprise. It was agreed to call the whole thing a chemical laboratory if discovery should occur.
Blurb: Three years as an exotic dancer left Lula Lisbon with a head full of steamy stories! In this entry of Dirty Diaries, Lula cleverly seduces a bicurious wife, giving the Rubenesque beauty her first lesbian experience… and making a submissive cuckold out of her rich husband!
Warning: This 5,002-word erotic semi-autobiographical confessional contains a first lesbian experience, lesbian sex in the champagne room, a cuckolded husband, breast play, lesbian kissing, and female orgasms. Adults only! All characters are over 18.
The following is an excerpt from “Lula Lisbon’s Diaries of a Dirty Dancer: Lesbian Lapdance,” first in her semi-autobiographical erotic memoir series, “Lula Lisbon’s Dirty Diaries.” Copyright 2012 Lula Lisbon.
I didn’t go right over to the couple, because that would have been too easy for them. It’s not good to give away your power; you play hard to get, you tease, you play cat-and-mouse with your prey. So I stopped at a handful of guys first, flirting – a playful touch on the arm here, innuendo and a naughty grin there, collecting dollars in my cleavage, in the back of my g-string. But I was saving the big guns for the couple; I know expensive clothes and an interested woman when I see one, for sure!
I smiled warmly into her eyes as she watched me stalk over, as balanced and at ease in my six-inch platform heels as I was barefoot.
“Hi honey, I’m Lula,” I drawled. I liked the nervous desire she exuded; it turned me on. “I just love your necklace! And what a great dress, your curves look amazing.”
“Um, th-thanks,” she stammered. I thought it was adorable, and my smile widened.
Here’s some free advice. If you have fears about talking to attractive women, take it from me as a current lesbian and former dancer, and follow this conversational formula. Pick out something she’s wearing to compliment, but make it a genuine compliment; don’t say it if you don’t mean it. Touch her in a natural and non-threatening way – on her arm, or her hand. Ask her about herself, and listen to her. Bring up similar interests, draw parallels and little double entendres into the conversation, and bring subtle attention to parts of your body. Before long, you’ll be drowning in phone numbers.
I traced the line of her necklace with one finger, stopping just above the deep plunge of her delectable cleavage to finger the sparkling teardrop-shaped gemstone. With interest, I noted her breath catching and the blush rising to her cheeks.
“I’m Jessi,” she said at last. I could tell she was struggling to keep her composure, and I loved it. “And this is my husband, Rob.” I accepted his proffered hand, acknowledging him briefly, but the majority of my attention was on Jessi. This was all part of my script.
“Your first time here, Jessi?” I let my fingers trail down her arm, tracing the sensitive skin on the tender inside of her elbow, the smooth inner forearm. I could feel her skin raising goose-bumps, and it made my pussy wetter in response. I heard her sharp intake of breath, saw her porcelain skin blush charmingly. I sat down in the booth, very close to her. She nodded slowly, her eyes flickering between the deep valley of my generous breasts and my face.
“It’s my birthday, and – well, I’ve always been curious. Rob had to drag me here, he said I’d have fun. I – haven’t made up my mind yet.” She sipped nervously at a glass of white wine, hand trembling slightly.
I leaned over and whispered huskily in her ear. “Well, I have a secret – I can’t resist uninitiated women, especially ones as sexy as you. May I have the honor of being your first?” My hand snaked around her soft waist, caressing the luscious curve of her full hip. My breasts brushed lightly against hers, and I could feel her nipples hardening into pebbles under the thin black silk of her dress. Jessi glanced at her husband, who was watching this scene with interest. His eyes met mine, and I winked.
“I’d love for you to dance for my wife in the champagne room,” he said, smiling. “As long as I can watch!”
I laughed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way!”
Blurb: Former nerd Drew is now a buff 19-year-old college athlete who has a huge crush on sexy jacked Gabriel, university coach and trainer. What he doesn’t know is that Gabriel’s been watching the tight teen’s physical progress with interest, and the older man plans a steamy seduction after the lunchtime gym rush is gone! Shy virgin Drew quickly discovers that there’s more than just heat in the sauna! First in the popular “Pumping His Iron Cock” series!
Warning: ADULTS ONLY! This 4,320 word erotica story contains two gorgeous athletes, a virgin nineteen-year-old, an experienced older man, first gay encounter, hand jobs, oral sex, snowballing, and anal penetration. May leave your screen steamed up… and you aching for more! All characters are over 18.
The following is an excerpt from “Pumping Teen Iron Cock #1,” by Lula Lisbon. Copyright 2012 Lula Lisbon.
Drew’s fantasies seemed to make the time go by in a flash, because all of a sudden Gabriel was placing the barbell back in its bench rest and stretching his sculpted arms. Drew suddenly froze as Gabriel’s strong fingers accidentally brushed the head of his erection through his thin, silky gym shorts, and the blood immediately rushed to his face in a hot blush of embarrassment. There was no way Gabriel wouldn’t have felt how hard his cock was. Gabriel gloated to himself, but blithely pretended nothing had happened.
“I’m pretty much done for today,” Gabriel commented casually as he lifted his bulging torso up off the bench, “but I was thinking of hitting the sauna. Wanna join me?”
His golden-hazel eyes bored into Drew’s sky-blue ones, and Gabriel gave the boy the most charming smile in his arsenal. Drew wasn’t sure where this was going, but he was suddenly feeling the first sparks of burgeoning hope. He became acutely aware of the blasting air conditioning, his small pink nipples hardening into diamond points in his thin, sweat-soaked shirt. Gabriel’s gaze flickered down to them, then back to Drew’s face, his bright smile never wavering. Drew nodded slowly, his face still red.
“That – that sounds great,” he stammered, thinking in despair that his voice sounded boyishly shrill.
“After you, then,” Gabriel purred, gesturing ahead of him and flashing perfect white teeth in a hungry grin. He intuited the advantage he held, that of age and experience, and had no qualms about wielding it without hesitation. He smirked as he enjoyed the sight of Drew’s firm young ass filling out his tight little shorts, leading the way to what Gabriel promised himself would be even greater pleasures. Firsthand, he had felt the evidence that the teen had an interest in him, and he would be damned if he’d let this delicious chance slip by. Gabriel always got his way – and today, things were going to be slipping in, not by!
The locker room was deserted, as it usually was this time of day.
“No dirty gym clothes in the sauna,” Gabriel said authoritatively. Though Drew had never seen signs to that effect, he naturally assumed that the older man knew the rules better than he did, and headed for his locker to strip down. Their lockers were in separate aisles, which gave them a modicum of privacy, and as Drew peeled off his sweat-soaked garments, he surreptitiously gave his throbbing penis a guilty caress. Blushing violently, he wrapped a white gym-issue towel tightly around his waist – why were the damn things always so tiny? – and went to the sauna door to meet Gabriel, who was already there. Gabriel looked him up and down, and Drew suddenly felt like a small insect caught in a hungry spider’s web.
“One thing before we go in,” Gabriel said sternly. “You have to do something for me.”
“What?” Drew squeaked. Gabriel noticed the pulse beating in a vein in the younger man’s throat with interest, and took half a step towards him. The top of Drew’s head barely reached his chin.
“You have to kiss me.”
Drew gasped, and for a second his stomach sank, thinking that Gabriel was making fun of him. The intensity in the bigger man’s hazel eyes told him differently.
“I… okay, but I’ve never kissed a guy before,” he admitted shyly. “Actually, I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
Gabriel took his chin firmly in one hand, his eyes never leaving Drew’s.
“Then I’ll make sure it’s a good one,” he whispered huskily, and closed the distance between their lips. His mouth was warm, and softer than Drew had ever imagined; the kiss was gentle at first, but as Drew let him take the lead, it grew more demanding.
Gabriel’s heavy five-‘o-clock shadow rasped against Drew’s smooth skin; his tongue insistent, Gabriel’s strong hands roamed the teen boy’s tightly muscled torso. Drew never imagined that chest hair could be so soft, and it felt fantastic brushing against his own smooth body. Gabriel pushed him up against the sauna door, grinding his immense boner against Drew’s, two thin towels the only thing that separated their passion. Drew couldn’t help the little moans that escaped him as Gabriel ravished his mouth, overwhelmed by this impossible dream suddenly become hot, sweaty reality. He felt dizzy when Gabriel broke the kiss, suddenly grabbing him by the arm and yanking open the sauna door.
“Inside,” he ordered, and Drew nearly fell through the entrance in his scramble to obey. Gabriel strode in after him, locking the door with a smile.
“So, how was your first kiss?” he teased, a knowing smile playing on his perfect lips.
“Better than I ever imagined, Gabriel,” the teenager replied fervently. “I’ll never forget it, ever.” Gabriel laughed good-naturedly.
“I take it you’ve never seen another man’s cock either,” he said slowly, teasingly, reaching for his towel. Drew froze, hardly daring to breathe, the moment almost too intense.
“No,” he whispered, “never in real life except for my own.”
Gabriel roughly pushed him down by the shoulders onto the wooden bench, seated so Gabriel’s thick meat was now the one in Drew’s sweat-beaded face.
“I have a feeling this is your lucky day then,” he grinned, and dropped his scanty towel.
Blurb: Nineteen-year-old Drew was a shy virgin when he met Gabriel, the muscular college coach, a few short weeks ago. Their relationship has flourished, and Drew is opening up to his first boyfriend; his hottest fantasy is to be dominated by two gorgeous jocks, forced to be their little suck-hungry slut. Devious Gabriel devises a plan to give his young lover everything he’s ever dreamed of, and so much more! Second in the popular “Pumping His Iron Cock” series!
Warning: ADULTS ONLY. All characters are at least 18. This 5,431-word erotica story contains gay male sex, lots of oral, cum swallowing, messy orgasms, BDSM, dubious consent, an eager nineteen-year-old character, voyeurism, outdoor sex, menage a trois, light spanking, domination, submission, and public nudity.
The following is an excerpt from “Pumping Teen Iron Cock #2,” by Lula Lisbon. Copyright 2012 Lula Lisbon.
Drew decided just then to fight the urge next time he passed anyone, to try to be confident, and determined to start conquering his instinct to cower. He was fed up with living in fear, of letting his past rule his present. A pretty hipster girl sailed by on her orange fixed-gear bike as he started a sprint, and he was fine when she passed; but girls never had the effect on him that hot guys did.
Slowing his thirty-second sprint back into an easy lope, he noticed a pair of good-looking athletic jocks approaching at a slow jog. One was a chocolate-skinned black man, the other auburn-haired with a golden tan and a light sprinkle of freckles. They were both probably about twenty-two or –three. Drew steeled himself, knowing nothing would happen, again, and that he’d be fine, but his heart still pounded a little harder than it needed to. He held his head high, holding his firm body proudly; but when he glanced at the two rapidly approaching young men, he saw them both eyeing him. He gulped.
“Hey man,” the black guy called, slowing his pace to a walk. “You know what time it is?”
Drew smiled a little in relief. He came to a halt to check his watch, replying, “It’s just past quarter of four.”
The guy’s auburn-haired friend grinned, raising a copper eyebrow. “Where you headed so fast? You’re looking pretty good. My name’s Skylar.”
Drew’s flushed face went pale. “I, um…” he stammered, “I’m just going around the river, I usually run this way. I’m Drew.”
“Name’s Damien,” the other jock added. “We haven’t seen you before, and I think we would have noticed a sexy little dude like you!” The two laughed, and Drew’s stomach dropped. Unconsciously, he reverted back to his high-school self, trembling, scared, fervently wishing he hadn’t stopped – yet a part of him was secretly, strangely thrilled at their compliments. In one smooth motion, Skylar suddenly grabbed Drew’s arms, and Damien’s dark hand groped Drew’s growing package through the teen’s silky blue shorts.
“Dude, he’s got a semi already,” the black jock taunted. “I think this queer little homo is cravin’ some fuckin’ action!” Drew struggled in growing panic, but Skylar had four inches and at least fifty pounds of muscle on him, and his fists were like iron manacles.
Gesturing with his chin to a thick copse of trees by the shoreline, Skylar said, “Over there.” He dragged Drew along with him; Drew’s mouth was suddenly bone-dry, his heart pounded, and he was terrified.
“Please! Don’t!” he begged, but he couldn’t deny his indisputable arousal; with every step his dick got harder and harder, and his mouth watered like it always did when he wanted to shove it full of thick manmeat. He half-heartedly tried to escape Skylar’s hold as they ducked under a fiery canopy of autumn foliage at the river’s edge, but the teenager jumped as he felt a sudden cruel slap across his ass!
“You’re ours now, bitch,” growled Damien, going in for another stinging hit on Drew’s tight ass cheeks. “And you better get used to it! I’m gonna fill up that whiny fag mouth with my huge black cock, and you’d better act like you love it or that ass is gonna get it for sure.”
“Down, boy,” Skylar commanded as he shoved the nineteen-year-old to the soft, leaf-littered ground. Drew hated that his eyes were now brimming with tears, but it was a stark contrast to the rock-hard length straining against the damp fabric of his shorts. His explicit arousal was self-evident, and all three of them knew it. To be sure, the two larger athletes were going to enjoy every delicious second of having this sweet young twink at their command!
“Anyone taught you how to suck a cock right yet?” Skylar demanded, cold blue eyes boring into Drew’s.
“Yes,” Drew whispered, lower lip trembling. A large tear ran down one soft cheek, and he inwardly cursed himself for showing this weakness.
“Yes, what?” the big, auburn-haired athlete demanded as Damien roughly pulled Drew’s arms behind his back again.
Drew was caught off-guard, and took a guess. “Yes, um… Sir?” he replied hesitantly. A smile curled Skylar’s perfect cupid’s-bow lips.
“Go on, boy,” the flame-haired jock commanded.
“Yes, Sir, I have been taught to suck cock. I… I’ve been told I’m pretty good, Sir,” Drew mumbled, staring at a crumbling leaf by his left knee. Another tear fell, plopping wetly into the dirt next to it.
“I think this little crybaby slut’s gonna be easy,” Skylar commented to Damien over the prostrate teen’s head. They guffawed as Drew’s whole body quivered.
“Strip down, slut,” the aggressive jock demanded. “No whiny little bitch like you gets to suck cock with his clothes on!”
Drew’s jaw dropped in shock, painfully aware of the voices of passersby, of his own heart pounding; but he quickly jumped up to obey when Damien raised his hand threateningly to strike again. Glancing at the brightly-colored canopy barely separating the scene from the nearby jogging path, he peeled off his sweat-soaked tank. Goosebumps raised on the teen’s skin as the cool river breeze caressed his bare chest, and Drew stood there nervously as they watched, shivering, almost forgetting himself.
“C’mon, keep going, we don’t got all day! You got some fuckin’ dicks to suck!” Damien ordered impatiently, scowling.
Trembling, Drew inserted his thumbs into the waistband of his gym shorts, sliding them down to his slim ankles and stepping out of them. Tears ran down his face as he hesitantly pulled down his damp boxer briefs, exposing his aching boner to the cooling afternoon Philadelphia air. Regretfully, he tossed the underpants aside. The two dominants leered in triumph.
“Now get on your knees, arms behind your back, and don’t you dare move your arms ‘til I say,” Damien barked. “If they don’t stay behind your back without my say-so, you gonna get your ass whooped, boy!”
Drew nodded miserably. He was overwhelmed by this fantasy-become-reality, and was nearly in a daze; he didn’t quite know what to do with himself besides obey the orders of his two new Sirs. The bushes rustled gently about ten feet behind him, but preoccupied as he was with his predicament, Drew didn’t take notice. The two athletic young men did, however; they both glanced over in Gabriel’s direction and smirked knowingly as he got comfortable in his hidden position to watch the action. They subtly placed themselves in such a way so that Gabriel would have the best view of what was about to happen.
Skylar got behind Drew and grabbed him by the hair, jerking his face up towards Damien’s bulging crotch. “Now, you’re about to prove your cock-sucking skills to us, bitch!” Grinning, Damien lowered the front of his shiny red running shorts, letting his huge, dark brown cock pop out. Drew had never really been interested in black guys before, but if Damien’s glory was any guide, he was about to become a lot more interested!
5-STAR RECOMMENDED READ AT HOTLY EVER AFTER!
In this erotic alternate-world retelling of Red Riding Hood, Redd is a spoiled rich girl who always gets everything she wants in life: a submissive boyfriend, weyre servants, cars, and jewelry. Frankly, she’s a bit bored by it all, and so she’s been getting her thrills by becoming increasingly kinky behind closed doors. But when she sees the dangerous, feral leader of the growing Weyre Liberation Movement on TV, destined by his Goddess to free his weyre-folk from slavery and oppression, she feels an awakening of taboo lust. While out checking on Grandma’s empty cottage, kinky Miss Redd discovers an unexpected houseguest, and much more… The first part in the Wolf Moon quartet!
Warning: Adults only! All characters are over 18. Contains femdom, roleplaying, werewolf erotica, cuckolding a submissive male with a strapping weyre lover, oral sex, spanking, light BDSM, straight sex, swallowing, suspense and intrigue.
The following is an excerpt of Wolf Moon: Redd’s First Ride (Wolf Moon Quartet, #1) by Lula Lisbon. Copyright 2012 Lula Lisbon.
“Who are you?” she shrieked. “And what are you doing in my grandmother’s house?”
His arms were thick and bulging with muscle, his shoulders hard and broad. A thin cotton shirt clung to his torso, half-buttoned and gaping, and she could see the distinctive trail of silky-soft weyre-pelt running from just below his full lower lip, all the way down the middle of his hard chest and tight, six-pack stomach. His tawny eyes, wide and round as a wolf’s, pierced through her; his perfect lips parted to reveal white teeth, the long, gleaming canines impossibly sharp. Redd had always known her race was superior to his, but in this moment, she was just a little afraid.
“Well now, aren’t you just the prettiest little thing,” he drawled, looking her up and down, “and such a nice surprise. For your information, Clarissa Resahood gave me her permission to stay here while she was up North.”
“You… you filthy liar!” Redd gasped, full of righteous anger. “My grandmother would never give a fur-back lunaspic like you permission to stay in her house! You get out of here right now before I call the Federal Police!”
His golden eyes, full of playful amusement at first, instantly turned to icy steel. She squeaked as he gripped her arm in an iron hand.
“It’s a shame you’re not as loving and kind-hearted as your grandmother,” he growled. “I don’t have much patience for racist hate-spewing, and besides, you’re far too pretty to be talking like that.”
Struggling helplessly against his impossibly strong grip, Redd made a derisive noise, and spat in his face.
“No dirty moon-freak tells me how to behave! My father’s the Senator! When he hears about this, he’ll—” Her vitriol was cut short as he yanked her inside and slammed the door. Seeing the look of repugnance the weyre-male gave Redd as he wiped away her spittle raised the first real stirrings of fear inside her… and then, sudden recognition.
“You – you’re Mr. X!” Redd breathed, her heart beating wildly in her throat. “I saw you on TV today, you’re wanted for human murders and violent incitement!”
His nostrils flared, saying nothing, simply keeping her in his unblinking gaze; she felt as if he were raking her soul with that gaze, and finding her wanting. Suddenly she wondered if it were true, if they could smell female lust, if they could read minds and desires. His lip twisted in a sneer as if in answer, and his sharp teeth shone.
“I know it’s a serious crime for humans to help the WeyreLib cause,” he growled, “but there’s absolutely no excuse for blatant racist ignorance like yours. Your mouth is far more filthy than any weyre could ever hope to be, and I’m about to teach that pretty ass of yours a lesson!”
His huge fist around her arm tightened, and he dragged her, protesting, over to the nearest chair. He ripped the luxurious fur coat away from her shoulders, throwing it aside like a cheap rag.
“Grab the chair and bend over,” the weyre ordered, his eyes dangerous.
“Why should I listen to a dirty fur-back?” Redd retorted petulantly. “I won’t!”
Before she could say another word, his hand flashed out quicker than she could see and tore the thin silk dress down the middle, exposing her perfectly smooth curves. Her jaw dropped in shock, and he forced her wrists together, tying them to the back of the chair. He swiftly pushed on the backs of her knees, so she had no choice but to fall into a kneel on the hard wooden seat, luscious round ass in the air. Angry tears welled in her eyes, but for the first time in her life, she bit back a flurry of vicious words. He seemed to know this somehow, because he gave a short laugh of derision.
“Not so high and mighty now, are you, little Miss Redd?” the large weyre scoffed. He slid his long, brown fingers across the silky expanse of her milky skin, feeling the moist under-curves of her firm breasts, the delicate valley of her waist.
He leaned in close to her ear, his musk filling her nostrils, his thin shirt and angora-soft pelt brushing like feathers against her naked back.
“I can smell you,” he said in a husky growl, caressing her hip. “Mother Moon is almost full, and I can smell your lust.”