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    Wet Lesbian Sexy Surprises: Sexy Surprises, #48
    Wet Lesbian Sexy Surprises: Sexy Surprises, #48
    Wet Lesbian Sexy Surprises: Sexy Surprises, #48
    Ebook66 pages40 minutesSexy Surprises

    Wet Lesbian Sexy Surprises: Sexy Surprises, #48

    By Giselle Renarde

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    About this ebook

    Pure liquid gold awaits you in "Wet Lesbian Sexy Surprises," a spicy anthology of six fetish stories that explore the intoxicating allure of women who share an erotic fixation. Each tale invites you into the world of BDSM as lesbians explore their deepest desires and succumb to the pull of undeniable attractions.

     

    Indulge in tantalizing encounters between roommates, strangers, and committed couples. From the sizzling tension between a security guard and a woman stuck in an underground parking garage to the complex passion between a couple on vacation, these stories offer a mesmerizing glimpse into the world of lesbian romance and fetish exploration.

     

    Sapphic sexuality fuses with the arts of domination and submission as "Wet Lesbian Sexy Surprises" beckons you to explore desperate desire in six stunning encounters.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGiselle Renarde
    Release dateAug 12, 2024
    ISBN9798227811318
    Wet Lesbian Sexy Surprises: Sexy Surprises, #48
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    Author

    Giselle Renarde

    Giselle Renarde é uma escritora queer canadense premiada em vários concursos. Foi nomeada para o Toronto’s Best Author para o NOW Magazine’s 2015 Readers’ Choice Awards. A sua ficção aparece em mais de 100 antologias de short stories, incluíndo coleções prestigiadas como a Best Lesbian Romance, a Best Women’s Erotica, e a coleção vencedora do prémio Lambda Award, Take Me There, editada por Tristan Taormino. Os seus romances picantes incluem Anonymous, Cherry, Seven Kisses, e The Other Side of Ruth.

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      Book preview

      Wet Lesbian Sexy Surprises - Giselle Renarde

      Wet Lesbian

      Sexy Surprises

      6 Erotic Stories

      Giselle Renarde

      Golden Showers with the Landlord’s Daughter

      FOR MY SECOND YEAR at university, I moved out of residence dorms and into a townhouse near campus.  The newspaper listing had said basement apartment, but that wasn’t entirely accurate, since my apartment didn’t have a bathroom in it.  Really, I was renting a bedroom with a microwave.  To use the bathroom, I had to climb two flights of stairs and share with my landlord’s daughter Emma.

      I never felt comfortable going upstairs in the middle of the night.  Usually, I was up late studying or writing papers, and I hated the idea of disturbing the family.  They were nice people.  I didn’t want to bother them by turning on lights and flushing toilets at two in the morning.

      One day, not long after I’d moved in, I was moving furniture around when I accidentally flipped up the carpet in my room.  There was no subflooring.  They’d put the broadloom down on bare concrete, and right near the corner there was a drain.  A drain!  It was a circle about three or four inches across, with a metal grate over it.  Even after I’d covered it back up, I kept thinking about it.

      Later that night, after two cups of tea and a bottle of water, I felt that heaviness in my pelvis.  I needed to pee.  The family had obviously gone to bed—there were no footsteps or TV sounds coming from upstairs—and that drain under the carpet was looking pretty appealing.  What difference did it make if I peed in the floor?  A drain was a drain, right?  Those pipes all went to the same place.

      So I lifted the carpet and pushed down my pyjama pants, kicking them across the room.  All I had to do was squat.  The drain was in the perfect position for me to press my back against the wall, so I knew I wouldn’t fall over.  I spread my legs wide, staring down at the drain.  I’d never had to aim my stream before.  I didn’t know if I could pull it off.  Hopefully I wouldn’t spritz all over the carpet.

      It took a couple seconds before I could let loose.  The feeling of peeing without being on a toilet was really strange at first, but also exhilarating.  I felt kind of dirty, kind of naughty, like I was doing something I shouldn’t be doing.  And I guess I was.  I don’t think the family would appreciate it if they knew I was peeing on their floor.

      The drain became my late-night secret place.  Every day I looked forward to using it the same way I used to look forward to getting myself off with my vibrator or my fingers.

      Sometimes after my stream died down, I would flick my clit, rub it around a little, bring myself to orgasm in no time.  I have no idea what turned me on about crouching in the corner of my bedroom to pee, but my pussy was always super-wet by the time I’d finished.  Often, if I fucked myself with my fingers, I could get myself to squirt even more liquid.  It would spray all over my palm and drip down from my hand.  I wondered if I was the only girl in the world who did things like this.  I couldn’t imagine it was common.

      One night I guess I was playing my music a little too loudly, because as I crouched by the wall my door opened up.  There was a lock, but I hardly ever used it.  No one usually came down to the basement.

      When I looked up, my landlord’s daughter Emma was standing in the doorway wearing nothing but a cotton nightgown.  She was four years older than me and finished school, but she hadn’t found a job yet and still lived at home.  If anyone in the family had to walk in on me, at least

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