Crowd Pleaser: Sexy Shorts

By Lisabet Sarai

Savor these luscious tales of lust and love from the outrageous imagination of Lisabet Sarai. A Nebraska tornado provides the opportunity for a long-married couple to indulge their kinky tendencies. A workaholic professor learns to pay attention to her carnal desires. Two virile young baristas turn a lawyer’s fantasies into vivid reality. Ten erotic gems–pleasure guaranteed!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lisabet Sarai
• Release date: Aug 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463282991

Lisabet Sarai

I became addicted to words at an early age. I began reading when I was four. I wrote my first story at five years old and my first poem at seven. Since then, I have written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – more than fifty single author titles including eight full length novels, plus dozens of short stories in various collections. My credits include contributions to the Lambda winner Where the Girls Are and the IPPIE Best Erotic Book of 2011, Carnal Machines. My gay scifi erotic romance Quarantine won a Rainbow Awards 2012 Honorable Mention. I have also edited a number of acclaimed erotica anthologies. Currently I am responsible for the charity erotica imprint Coming Together Presents, which as of December 2014 has published six volumes by top erotic authors, supporting causes such as Amnesty International, Planned Parenthood, and the Multiple Sclerosis Association of America.I have more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by my chosen genre. Aside from writing, travel is one of my most fervent passions. I’ve visited every continent except Australia, though I still have a long bucket list of places I haven’t been. Currently I live in Southeast Asia with my indulgent husband and two exceptional felines, where I pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to my creative writing.For more information about me and my writing, visit my website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) or my blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com). Join my VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh I also hang out at Goodreads, (http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/83387.Lisabet_Sarai) because I love the idea of a social network focusing on the love of reading. I’m not on Facebook, because I don’t trust it.

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Crowd Pleaser: Sexy Shorts

Lisabet Sarai

© Copyright 2019 Lisabet Sarai

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

This book intended for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

Contents

Twister

Crowd Pleaser

Mad Dogs

Perception

Beefeater

Stroke

Reunion

Baristas

Red Eye

Caritas

About the Author

Discount Coupon for Hot Brides in Vegas

A final message from Lisabet

To my loyal readers.

You keep me going.

Twister

Sally came running into the barn. The tractor was acting up again, and I was on my knees in the straw, surrounded by greasy parts.

There's a tornado coming, Joe. Heard it just now on the North Platte radio station.

I looked her over. Her hair had half-escaped from her barrette and was floating in red-brown wisps around her ears. Her apron was damp; she must have been washing the lunch dishes. She was breathing hard from her run, ample breasts rising and falling under her print dress. I saw worry in her eyes, justifiable worry.

Twisters are no joke. When one comes roaring across the corn fields, all you can do is hide. In '96 we lost a barn and two horses, while we shivered together in the crawl space, holding each other tight and listening to the wind scream. After that, I built a proper cellar. I might not be able to save our property, but our lives were a different story.

I nodded to her, already covering the parts with a tarp and weighting it down. Open the house windows, lock the door, and meet me in the cellar. I'll just be a few minutes. Without another word she went to follow my instructions.

Already I could feel that weird electricity in the air, that heaviness that makes it hard to draw breath. The horses were restless. I opened their stalls, so that they would have a chance if the building collapsed. They huddled nervously in the corners. Leaving the upper windows open wide to equalize the pressure, I locked the doors and headed for the bulkhead.

The sky was a sickly green. A mass of inky thunderheads sat ominously on the horizon. It was perfectly still, no hint of a breeze stirring the July afternoon, as I swung open the doors and headed down the concrete stairs.

I was mighty proud of the storm cellar. It stood some distance from the house, just east of Sally's kitchen garden. I had heard of folks who survived a twister in their cellar but who were trapped when the house collapsed on top of it. My cellar was spacious, twelve feet by fourteen, with a ceiling high enough to accommodate my six foot frame.

It was well-equipped. It had a little refrigerator (which I kept stocked with beer) that ran off a car battery, a good supply of canned goods and fresh water, a comfortable double mattress and some director’s chairs, plenty of battery-powered lights and candles. Not to mention the flogging bench and the bondage frame that I had built in my spare time, and a reasonable assortment of home-crafted floggers, paddles and dildos.

Sally waited for me, sitting in one of the chairs with her hands folded in her lap. She had lit several of the candles and they cast a kind light on her weathered face. I was amazed, as always, how we changed when we entered this space together. Her practical, bossy ways slipped from her and she became hesitant and needy.

Meanwhile, my farmer's drawl faded, replaced by the arrogant, intellectual voice of my college years, when I wrote poetry and thought that I would rule the world. Those years in Lincoln, majoring in literature and bridge, had shaped me in ways I was still discovering. That was when I first read de Sade and Réage; that was when I realized the desires that filled me with shame were common and even accepted in some society.

Her eyes followed me anxiously as I ducked to avoid banging my head on the door frame and then stood tall. I was an imposing presence, I knew, especially in this confined space. It didn’t matter that I was wearing greasy overalls and work boots. Dominance begins in the mind.

Stand up, Sally, I said quietly. Remove your dress.

Immediately she moved to obey me, fluid and graceful as she pulled the cotton garment over her head. I was somewhat surprised to discover that she was naked underneath. Clearly she had made some preparations before running out to warn me about the twister. I would make the most of this.

You are not wearing any underclothes, Sally. What a sluttish thing to do!

She hung her head, but I knew she could tell that I was not really angry.

Well, what have you to say for yourself, miss?

Her voice was nearly inaudible. Nothing.

What? You know better than to address me improperly.

Nothing, sir. I have no excuse, except that I thought it might please you.

It did please me. Though Sally is closer to fifty then forty, she still has a fine body, full but not flabby. Her breasts are luxurious, capped with tawny nipples big as pencil erasers. Her belly and thighs curve invitingly, and though there are streaks of gray on her head, a lively mass of pure auburn curls adorns her mound. Her legs are nicely sculpted from all the physical work she does around the farm.

Come here, girl, and kneel in front of me. I admired her promptness in responding to this command as much as the grace with which she executed it.

You are a nasty girl, aren't you, Sally?

She nodded, inwardly delighted to know that I found her sexually appealing.

You know what I do with nasty girls?

You punish them, sir.

Yes, indeed I do. I reached behind me and picked up a pair of clamps from the shelf. One advantage of this enclosed space was that everything was close at hand. Place your hands behind your head.

Almost before the words were out of my mouth, she had complied. Her position elevated her breasts, offering her gorgeous tits to my attention. I resisted the urge to sink down and suckle them. Instead, I pressed open the spring-loaded jaws of one of the clamps and positioned it around her swollen left nipple. For long moments I held it there, surrounding but not touching her delicate flesh, while she watched me anxiously. Breathe, I murmured, finally, and let the jaws close on her.

She moaned softly as the pain shot through her body. Her eyes fluttered shut. I reached down and quickly swept one finger through her slit. She was drenched already.

How's that, my sweet slut? She nodded, her eyes still closed. Can you bear more? She nodded again. I swiftly fastened the other clamp on her right tit. She gasped, and her body slumped for a moment. Then she straightened her back, and opened her eyes, looking up at me in expectant adoration. You look lovely, my little one. Despite the pain that I knew she was feeling, her face brightened at my praise. I have something new for you today, I continued, an innovation that I think you will enjoy. I copied it from something that I saw on the Internet.

I rummaged in one of the built-in drawers and came up with a harness of leather straps reminiscent of a horse's tack. Fortunate that the weather has been so cooperative. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to try this out.

At my slight gesture, she rose and stood before me. Gently I removed the nipple clamps. Her flesh looked raw. I pulled each nipple in turn into my mouth, laving it with soothing saliva. Sally writhed in spite of herself, spreading her thighs in invitation.

Still acting the slut? Turn around! I landed a hard spank on each of her butt cheeks, and watch the pink imprint of my hand bloom. Sally was having a hard time stifling her grin. We both knew that she loved to be spanked.

Spread your legs, I ordered. When she complied, I slipped one wide stretch of leather around each thigh, and buckled it. I had carefully lined the straps with soft felt, so that the edges would not chafe her.

Now, hands over head. The next item was a network of leather strips about one inch wide that encased her torso. One wrapped around her chest just above her breasts, below her armpits. The other encircled her ribs just below, so that her breasts spilled over the leather. Crosswise strips, affixed every four inches or so, attached these two main straps. Two of these subsidiary pieces of leather ran between her tits, separating them nicely.

Next I fastened a broad band, also