Lip Service (Book 3 of "Alison's Erotic Adventures")

After taking seven horny steelworkers on a busted pool table, Alison was ready for something different. She pulled a mashed-up business card out of her purse, the one that she got from the cop she seduced a couple of weeks before. She was a cute female cop who had pulled her over on the interstate just as Alison was about to climax, thanks to her remote-controlled vibrator. The seduction was in an interstate motel—and it was the best sex she had ever had. Now, Alison wanted that sexy cop again. She made the call, and Alison’s new affair kicked off with a long weekend of sex—in a movie theater ladies room, in Alison’s bedroom, in a grocery store, at the mall, with a three-way with another gorgeous woman … you get the idea. Lip Service is 15,000 words of explicit, panty-wetting, woman-on-woman erotica that you won’t forget. (explicit erotica, F/F, F/F/F, lesbian erotica, BDSM, sex toy erotica, woman cop erotica, anal erotica)

A peal of ear-splitting thunder echoed throughout the room. The atmosphere felt charged as the sky opened up and heavy splats of rain fell on the stones of the patio outside the glass doors.

Our eyes locked. I moved toward Moriah and ran my finger down her cheek and on to her lips. Her mouth opened and she sucked my finger, twirling her tongue around it.

I slipped a cuff on each wrist and raised her arms. She was just short enough that her hands didn’t reach the ceiling. I ran the rope through the hook and pulled it taut. She stood almost in the middle of the room, her arms stretched high, standing almost on tiptoe.

“What are you going to do to me?” she whispered.

I stood behind her as I made a knot on the hook and lowered my mouth to her ear. “Give me a safe word. Give me a word that, when you say it, I’ll stop whatever I’m doing and let you go.”

“‘Stop?’”

“No, I want you to be able to say ‘stop’ without really meaning it. Something else.”

“Calliope.”

Her hands now secured above her head, I walked in front of her. Reaching down, I rolled her cotton ribbed sweater up above her breasts, revealing a pretty lace bra. Her eyes widened. The rain was coming down hard, and the room darkened from the storm clouds.

I undid the button on her jeans, slowly lowered the zipper, and pulled her pants down toward her knees. She shook one foot, then the other, sending her slip-ons across the room.

I pulled her jeans off her. All that was left were her bra, panties and socks. And her sweater scrunched up to her chin above her small breasts.

Moriah had a look of wild passion in her eyes as she watched my every move. I left her there and looked around the room for some inspiration.

In the corner were my walking sticks, high-tech poles make of carbon fiber, with rubber-coated tips and leather-wrapped handles with loops that secured them to your wrists while hiking. I picked one up and walked back to Moriah.

She licked her dry lips.

Lightning flashed, followed quickly by the crash of thunder. The fresh smell of ozone filled the air. The excitement was palpable. The atmosphere was charged with electricity, both literal and metaphorical.