Susan Hardwicke
Dominating Thrills
Chapter 1
The fantasies flashed through his brain in little lightning shocks. Lips caressing the backs of upper thighs, licking softly, a white leg rising up an inch or two with each wet kiss… the aroma of untapped moisture from a steaming body, a hot fragrance. His testicles filled to bursting… plunging for the blessed snarl and gulp of the sticky mouth bath… spreading and splitting those thighs apart, burying his face against the drenched and turgid cavity… his tongue wet-sliding, dipping into the naked throb itself, toying there with the fire-hot vulva heart, licking and encircling the clit in a feathery rage… the candy taste and the swallowing of the creamed pussy.
He blinked, and tried to bring his mind back to the business at hand, but for another thick second he went on with it, dwelling on frenzied convulsions of lovely, soft legs and white pelvis, still tongue sipping in a clinging whirlpool and half-suffocating in soaked pubic hair and the buttery trickles of girl juice, a flood in the back of his throat, and his tongue still locked and pledged to the pussy flavors.
Patience! You've taught yourself to have patience, you dumb asshole!
He rubbed the back of his hand across his brow. Put your shit together, dammit, you've got the floor. Act like you know what you're doing!
Romo could barely wait for the cunt lapping to begin. His eyes were on the lesbians, and his mind was conjuring up images of tongue against labia, teeth on cut. 'I have the floor,' he said, trying to return his attention to the business at hand. 'If you people don't shut your fucking mouths the meeting is going to be postponed.' He pounded on the bookcase next to him for emphasis. 'Order, goddamn it, I have the fucking floor.'
The group quieted down, their mutterings ceasing as they realized that their leader meant business. Romo, a wiry, tough-faced man of thirty, smiled grimly and scratched his balls through his jeans before going on.
'We were talking about the vaginal orgasm,' he said, nodding toward an attractive, well-dressed blonde sitting in an easy chair at the far end of the living room. The girl unconsciously reached up to adjust her horn-rimmed sunglasses, which were oversized and had lavender lenses. Oversized, Romo thought, oversized like her cunt.
'Thank you,' the girl said quietly. She cleared her throat, delicately covering her mouth as she did so, and she smiled without self-consciousness as her audience turned around and gave her their full attention.
'The vaginal orgasm is a myth,' she said. 'A product of male chauvinism. The vaginal orgasm was introduced by Freud and preached by a host of his disciples-all of them male disciples, I might add, except for a few women who accepted penis envy as an important factor in their own lives. A value judgment-indeed, a moral judgment-is implicit in the concept of the vaginal orgasm. Freud, in conceiving the vaginal climax, was saying in effect that any female orgasm that was not vaginally induced was inferior and perhaps immoral, The clitoral orgasm was an unsatisfactory by-product of self-abuse; the vaginal orgasm, on the other hand, was an artistic masterpiece created by a penile ‘brush,' with every nuance of pleasure being provided compliments of the male sexual ‘palette.' The blonde gave a little nod to indicate that she was finished with her statement, and a hubbub ensued as the members of her audience tried to squeeze their two cents' worth in.
'Quiet,' Romo said sternly. 'Thank you, Jan. You, Felsen-' He pointed to a stocky, dark-haired fellow who sported a heavy moustache. 'What was it that you were about to say?'
Felsen got to his feet and grinned drunkenly. A half-empty pint bottle of V.O, was clutched tightly in his right hand.
'Booze,' someone muttered. 'Bourgeois dream juice.'
'I beg your pardon.' Felsen thumbed his nose at the man who had interrupted him, then extended his arm In the direction of Jan. 'And I beg your pardon, too. Your trouble, Jan, is that you're a goddamn dyke. You wouldn't know what to do with a cock if someone offered it to you. You'd think it was just a clit with elephantiasis, or-' Felsen suddenly laughed for no apparent reason and made a grab for his fly. He had just opened it and yanked his flaccid four inches of prick through the zipper when a girl grabbed him by the ankle and pulled him off-balance. Felsen cursed as he hit the floor. His bottle broke in the fall, and the sharp odor of Canadian whiskey waited throughout the room.
Romo was shaking his head, more in disappointment than in anger. 'That's the end of the discussion for tonight,' he said. His voice carried the ring of authority. 'We'll move on to the demonstration. Jan? Lisa? In your places, please.'
Romo retreated to a folding chair several feet from where he had been standing, and the blonde who had spoken only a few moments before rose from her chair and moved to the center of the room. She was joined by a tiny, almost childlike brunette who had a thin, slitlike mouth and enormous brown eyes. 'Lisa,' Jan said softly. 'I love you. It's been so long.'
The blonde undressed first, unfastening the button front of her midi-length dress and slowly working the garment off her shoulders. She let the dress hang at hip-level for a moment, then loosened her fingers so that it fell to the floor. She was left standing in a tiny taffeta sip, a white confection that seemed incongruously small in comparison with the heavy woolen dress That she had been wearing only a moment before.
Every eye in the room was focused on Jan's body. Her thighs were perfectly formed, neither too muscular nor too soft. Perfect… there was no other word to describe them. Their proportions were somehow so lovely that they would have suited fashion designer and Playboy reader alike.
'Where have you been keeping yourself?' Jan asked, her face flushing with warmth as she stared at the tiny brunette. 'I tried to call you last week, and the week before, but-'
'I was in Italy. Making films.'
'Oh.' Jan pulled the slip over her head, revealing a magnificent navel. Her medium-sized tits were barely concealed by the flesh-colored brassiere that she wore, and the briefest of briefs clung to her mons veneris in a way that suggested an absence of pubic hair.
'Your brassiere,' Lisa said quietly but with firmness. 'Take it off. Now.'
'Lisa, darling, take it off for me,' the blonde said with a seductive smile.
Lisa shook her head. 'No, You will take it off, Now.' There was a threatening quality to her tone, and this seemed to make Jan all the more excited.
'Yes!' Jan said breathlessly. 'Now, Lisa! I'll take it off-' She reached behind her back and undid the fastener, then shrugged the bra off her shoulders and let it drop away from her breasts. 'Here! I give you my tits, Lisa!' She closed her eyes and dropped the brassiere to the floor, then moved her hands to her breasts and cupped each hillock of flesh with trembling fingers, squeezing the white-skinned tissue, making the delicate network of pale blue veins stand out, causing the soft pink nipples to change their shape and texture until they stood out bumpy and red and hard.
'Your pants,' Lisa commanded. 'Remove them, please.'
'Touch my breasts first,' Jan whimpered. 'You don't have to suck them, or even to kiss them. Just touch them, please. Remember the time I let you touch them for the first time? No other woman had touched them, Lisa. Not ever. You were the first. The first to touch my breasts, to-' Jan swallowed hard, then shook her head as if to bring her thoughts back to the present. 'My panties. Of course. I'm sorry.' She inserted a pair of fingers on either side of the waistband, and pushed. The briefs slid past the hipbones, over the lower belly, past the stark white surface of her recently shaven mons. 'I shaved for you,' she breathed. 'So you could see me better,' she stepped out of the right leg opening, then the left. She parted her thighs, rose on (tiptoe, and reached between her thighs, using her fingers to part the thick outer lips. 'Look at my pussy,' she managed to say. 'I shaved ‘it for you, Lisa. So you could see it, and taste it, and… ' Jan suddenly remembered where she was. She blushed furiously, the pink of her face turning to a raspberry shade. She let go of her twat and let her hands dangle at her sides.
'You should have asked me before shaving yourself,' Lisa said in a flat, expressionless tone. 'Suppose I had wanted to shave you myself.'
'But Lisa, I merely wanted to-'
