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The Loves And Lays Of Lusty Louise: Volume One
Copyright © 2016 Alicia Stranger
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All Rights Reserved: No part of this publication may be reproduced or retransmitted, electronic or mechanical, without the written permission of the publisher; with the exception of brief quotes used in connection with reviews written for inclusion in a magazine or newspaper.
Disclaimer: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic, adult language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable which might include: multiple sexual practices, heavy and strong BDSM themes and elements, erotic elements and fetish play. This e-book is for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/Fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither the publisher nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles. All characters depicted are at least eighteen years of age or older.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, businesses, and incidents are from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, people, or events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks mentioned herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.
Clutching her portfolio tightly under one arm, Louise squeezed herself into the crowded subway car. As usual, no one offered her a seat. With her free hand she grasped the overhead strap, hoping she could keep her balance through the long, lurching ride to the suburb where she lived. This Boston subway system has to be the most frustrating in the world, she thought. More than once in the past months a sudden jerk of the decrepit old car had sent her sprawling.
A blush rose to her cheeks as she recalled one such incident. She had been wearing a simple skirt and blouse outfit that day, about six weeks ago. She never wore panties, and the skirt, while sufficiently short to afford freedom and comfort, was not short enough to reveal her vital areas to the world. Though in most respects a very modern young woman, Louise still clung to a vestige of girlish modesty.
The train had been rattling along through the tunnels when suddenly, for no apparent reason, it came to a screeching halt. Unprepared for the jolt, Louise was flung headlong into a group of passengers in front of her. She lost her footing and tumbled head over heels onto the filthy floor of the subway car. Somehow her momentum caused her to roll into a sitting position, with her back resting against one of the seats at the front of the car. Her legs were spread wide, and her knees pressed up against her ample breasts.
Stunned by the impact of her fall, Louise sat there dazed, unmoving, for several seconds. The first sensation she was aware of was that at her ass. It felt unnaturally cold and clammy. Gradually it dawned on her that there was nothing between her bare bottom and the foul, disgusting floor of the subway car. Her skirt was bunched up around her waist!
Still not quite comprehending what had happened, Louise looked up. Every pair of eyes in the car was gazing in her direction. But these weren't the sympathetic looks of bystanders concerned for her safety. The expressions on the faces were gawking and lustful, the eyes riveted to her crotch! Louise suddenly realized that the disarray of her skirt and the sprawled position of her legs, caused by the fall, had afforded each and every person in the car a full, unobstructed view of her lovely, tender, succulent young cunt.
And what a cunt it was! Though Louise herself could never quite understand the sensation it caused, there was no one in the car who would deny that it was the sight of a lifetime. Delicately shaped, finely proportioned, with ripe, full outer lips surrounded by a wealth of exquisite honey-colored curls, Louise's cunt was breathtaking. Below the upper junction of the lips a magnificent vermilion clitoris protruded, quivering slightly. Beneath it lay a moist set of comely inner lips, as soft and subtly hued as the petals of a small pink rose. This cunt's entire aspect was one of harmony and beauty.
The jaded businessmen were aware that in viewing this sublime cunt they were undergoing an aesthetic experience of the highest order. Moreover, few of them had ever been so aroused sexually. Each would certainly have sold his soul at that moment for a chance to thrust his throbbing prick into that alluring pussy.
Even the women on the train were stricken by its perfection of shape and color, and gazed upon it unashamedly with envy and admiration. Little boys gaping at its mysteries felt unfamiliar stirrings in their young loins, full of the promise of things to come. And little girls, glancing at it shyly, knew they were in the presence of an ideal to which they might someday aspire. But as for Louise, she had felt quite a different emotion at that moment-utter humiliation!
Shuddering at the recollection, she clutched the strap tighter than ever. She remembered how she had yanked down her skirt and pulled herself to her feet. She hadn't been injured by the fall, but her pride was badly damaged. She could never forget the leering faces of the businessmen, or the sight of the bulging erections that were clearly visible through their trousers. After that day she never again wore a skirt, substituting instead a pair of soft, well-worn blue jeans. She was certainly no prude, but it had all been so, well, overwhelming!
Louise was nineteen; and an art student at a leading Boston institute. Every morning she left the apartment she shared with two other girls and rode the subway into the city. After the day's classes, she boarded an outbound train and returned home. But Louise wasn't sure how much longer this routine would continue. In fact, that very day she had come perilously close to being thrown out of school. She couldn't help smiling as she recalled the circumstances.
She was enrolled in a course entitled, The Art of the Human Figure. Usually it was insufferably dull. She quickly became bored sketching or painting the same uninteresting models day after day, and she could barely keep awake during the endless lectures on anatomy. But that day things had been different. Had they ever been different! It was the first time she'd enjoyed the class, but her enjoyment had nearly caused her expulsion.
That day the model was a strikingly handsome young man of about Louise's age. He was introduced to the class as Mark. As soon as Louise got a look at Mark, she knew this class was going to be something special. She was immediately smitten by his attractive features, curly blond hair, evenly tanned complexion, and powerful physique. He was gorgeous! But her initial reaction to Mark was nothing compared to the jolt she received when the professor casually announced that this striking young Adonis was going to model in the nude!
Louise was stunned, paralyzed. She nearly swooned with sheer delight, but controlled herself with the thought that she didn't want to miss a single delicious moment of what was to follow. Being the modest, self-conscious girl she was, she was careful to appear calm and unruffled. She glanced quickly at the faces of her fellow students. They all seemed to be taking it in stride. As a matter-of-fact, she thought, they might have been preparing to sketch an old barn, for all the emotion they were showing.
As art students they were taught to cultivate a detached, almost blase attitude toward such things, but Louise couldn't help the way she felt. Just thinking about the idea of feasting her eyes on the delicious nakedness of this young stud had her in ecstasy. The mere anticipation had caused the juices to flow from her palpitating pussy. She hoped the telltale odor wouldn't betray her mounting excitement to the rest of the class.
Louise heart pounded even harder when Mark took his place in front of the class. He began to disrobe with agonizing slowness. First he slipped the sandals from his feet. Next he pulled off his sweater to expose a well muscled chest sprinkled with fine blonde hairs. As his hands moved to his waist, Louise knew the moment of truth was at hand. It was all she could do to restrain herself from plunging a hand into her jeans to massage her swollen clit. It was now aching with passion.
With deliberate movements Mark unhooked the braided belt he wore. A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips. For me? wondered Louise. She couldn't be sure.