Sixty years after the Plague, few remember the mass deaths, the riots and the massacres triggered by the sexually-transmitted disease. Still, most people accept the Council’s mysterious libido-suppression technology as necessary to prevent a resurgence of the deadly virus. Monthly procreative sex, government-supported and hormone-enhanced, is enough to satisfy them.
Lena’s different. Though she loves her husband Jeff, she yearns to experience the thrill of forbidden lust, to know what it feels like to couple with a stranger. Rumors speak of an antidote that liberates the libido from the Council’s thrall. Denied from birth, Lena is willing to risk everything—her marriage, her freedom, even her life—for one taste of unbridled desire.
Before I could think or resist, we had climbed the three steps to the platform, which was furnished with a mattress and a couple of chairs. A spotlight clicked on in a corner, temporarily blinding me. Bolt stood behind me, his arms circling my body. He kneaded my breasts while he worked the crowd. I struggled not to faint from the sensation of his fingers digging into my flesh.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Club Lust. Tonight we have a special treat, a newcomer enjoying her first taste of freedom.” He gripped the bottom of my jersey and pulled it over my head in one deft motion.
All eyes in the room turned to my suddenly bare chest. The heat of their attention brought a flush to my cheeks. My nipples contracted into throbbing bullets of needy flesh. Bolt pinched and twisted them, far rougher than Jeff had ever been. Liquid gushed from my cunt as though he’d turned on a faucet.
“Such fine, round, bouncy tits. Just looking at them makes me want to rub my cock in between them until I come all over her face. Don’t you all agree?” The crowd murmured its assent. I don’t know what excited me more, his words or the fact that simultaneously, he’d unzipped my skirt and pulled it down to my ankles. Underneath I wore the red bikini briefs that had come with our last booster pack. They were soaked.
Bolt’s hand dropped from my breast to cup my pubis. I shivered. My cunt clenched at the indirect stimulation as he brushed his palm over the wiry hair underneath the pseudo-silk. My clit swelled, hot, demanding. I arched my pelvis, pressing my sex more firmly against his hand. He wriggled a finger between my lips, pressing the fabric into my cleft. Pleasure shimmered through my whole body. Earlobes, lips, fingertips, nipples, clit, toes, all throbbed in time. I heard myself moan.
“Our little slut is very wet,” Bolt gloated. “I think she wants to be fucked. Let’s get a look at her cunt.”
Long before she discovered erotica and erotic romance, Lisabet Sarai devoured science fiction. Heinlein, Bradbury and Asimov were her companions growing up. Later she explored the dark, seductive worlds of Neal Stephenson, Pat Cadigan and Bruce Sterling. M. Christian, C. Sanchez-Garcia and Cecilia Tan showed her how to combine visions of the future with visions of desire. Her M/M science fiction erotic romance Quarantine won a Rainbow Awards honorable mention, while alien ménage Bodies of Light was voted a Best Book of the Month at Whipped Cream Reviews. Speculative erotica remains one of her favorite genres, both to read and to write.
You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.