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    Absolute Lesbian Sex
    Absolute Lesbian Sex
    Absolute Lesbian Sex
    Ebook95 pages1 hour

    Absolute Lesbian Sex

    By Vanessa de Sade, Nicole Gestalt, Lucy Felthouse and

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    About this ebook

    Six luscious lesbian tales with varied themes.

    Beach Photographer - Vanessa de Sade
    Set in a British seaside resort in the 1960s, Cindy walks the promenade each day in her Snappy Snaps blazer and creased white flannels, her trusty Rolleiflex camera slung around her neck.

    But behind the sunny facade there lurks a darker side to her nature, and Cindy desperately seeks her muse and wrestles with her own sexuality, both conundrums being resolved when she meets a voluptuous Venus at the far end of the beach...

    Lustful Intervention - Nicole Gestalt
    On warm summer holiday Kat finds herself intervening in a situation that everyone else seems to be trying to avoid. After the intervention things become more heated and leaves Kat's heart racing and very happy that she intervened in the first place.

    Something in Common - Lucy Felthouse
    Nerd and amateur photographer Justine is partaking of one of her favourite pastimes-visiting a historical site-when she bumps into Amber. It turns out they're both equally enthusiastic about exploring stately homes, abbeys, stone circles and the like-and their surprise at meeting someone with similar interests leads them on another adventure together, which doesn't end at the site.
    Honeymoon Island - Leigh Clark
    This bittersweet story of island love reveals the steamy underside of female passion and just what it takes to satisfy the appetite of a fully aroused lover.
    Bottle It - Ian Kidd
    Nikki Williamson is an ordinary young woman who works for an extraordinary company - Erect Matters, a scientific research firm dedicated to erotic studies. Nikki has a problem with her love life - namely that she doesn’t have one and that she seems more suited to alienating men than attracting them. However, the beautiful scientist Dr. Fae Dubois, believes she has the answer; a new potion which will make her irresistible to those she desires the most. Reluctantly, Nikki agrees to test out the potion - only to find it is both an abject failure and a raging success because whilst it has no effect whatsoever on men, she suddenly finds herself the unwitting lust object for every woman she meets.

    The Orchard - Vina Green
    A young woman learns to unlock her own pleasure and fulfil the desires of another when she enjoys her first lesbian encounter - with her employer. Their forbidden romance reaches an unexpected climax in this short coming of age story set within the sweet confines of an apple orchard.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHouse of Erotica
    Release dateMar 3, 2014
    ISBN9781782348436
    Absolute Lesbian Sex
    Author

    Vanessa de Sade

    Vanessa de Sade is a thirty-something full-figure gal who likes to write hot stories about real women exploring the darker regions of their own sexuality. She is the author of several popular novellas plus the collection, Rubyfruit Jungle.

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      Book preview

      Absolute Lesbian Sex - Vanessa de Sade

      1988.

      Beach Photographer

      Vanessa de Sade

      Set in a British seaside resort in the 1960s, Cindy walks the promenade each day in her Snappy Snaps blazer and creased white flannels, her trusty Rolleiflex camera slung around her neck.

      But behind the sunny facade there lurks a darker side to her nature, and Cindy desperately seeks her muse and wrestles with her own sexuality, both conundrums being resolved when she meets a voluptuous Venus at the far end of the beach...

      She walked the promenade each day in her red blazer and white flannels, oblivious to the giggles of the girls in their summer dresses who came down for the week to squawk and shriek and make big eyes at boys. Married women treated her more kindly, though, and posed with their children for her, their big maternal breasts heavy under their swimsuits as they stood ankle deep in the lazy water, their progeny gathered around them in smiling clusters.

      Cindy remembered them all with affection, every laughing group, every goose pimple on every fat thigh, every grain of sand that clung to wet swimsuits on white bodies shivering in the breeze as the endless processions of donkeys trudged up and down the crowded noisy beach. It was as though her brain was a storehouse for everything her camera saw, and she would watch, smiling, as the images she already knew faded into being in her developing tray under safe red light of her darkroom.

      Cindy loved being a beach photographer, loved strutting along the seafront in her blazer and creased white flannels, her prized Rolleiflex slung nonchalantly around her neck as she walked, chanting the patter they had taught her at the Snappy Snaps training course. Photograph, Lady? Keep the memory alive on the dark winter nights? Record the kiddies growing up? Come on now, Love, only one and a tanner, hardly more than the price of an ice cream. Do it now and I’ll have it for you in the morning. Where you staying, Mrs Brown’s? Not a problem, Dear, deliver it while you’re still at breakfast. That’s lovely, stand together now, oh, now that is lovely, all together now, cheese!

      Snappy Snaps provided the film and the chemicals and photo paper and took two thirds of what she made. Each week a man from head office came down to inspect her and tally up the books, counting the negatives and the print sales and taking the money, leaving her with fresh supplies and the rent paid. She had leased a tiny flat for the season, down at the far end of the north prom where the wreckage of the old pier stood like a rotten teeth in the waves, and the landlady turned a blind eye to the smell of chemicals and the strange red light in the linen cupboard she had converted for her nightly use.

      But tonight was Friday and the families had all gone in for tea, the scent of fish and chips wafting from every boarding house along the central prom. Monday it was pie and mash, Wednesday boiled ham salad, but Friday was always fish and chips with tined plums and custard to follow and a chocolate biscuit with the evening mug of tea, a special treat to end the holiday on a high note and ward off the thought of getting up next morning and catching the early train back to Manchester.

      Cindy sighed and walked slowly along the deserted front. She didn’t do too much business on a Friday night on account of everyone going home on the morrow, but she had counted the taking and things were good this week and there was enough to send off for the new lens she’d been saving up for plus half a crown to spare for her copy of Photo World from the newsagents.

      Cindy loved Photo World and longed for the day when she would peel back the cover and see her name under the list of contributors, and she had printed up some of her best shots and pasted them onto the pages of old copies with her name written in neatly below; but for now all she had were the polite rejection slips from the picture editor. We thank you for sending this excellent image to Photo World but...

      Once a man had contracted her to take some private photographs and she had assembled her lamps at his flat on the South Shore Road, snapping the voluptuous bodies of brittle girls who had come up from Liverpool, their painted nails like claws and their eyes as dead as the fish the men landed at the pier each morning before the holiday-makers came out to play. She had taken her client the prints the next morning, still damp at the edges from where she had sat up all night in the darkroom, the girls’ bodies transformed into undulating plains of light and shade, but the man had been annoyed and hadn’t paid her.

      No, no, no, he’d said, throwing her work back down on the coffee table, I wanted tits and arses, Lass, not all this art stuff. Lads in the forces buy these pictures to jerk off to when they’re away from home, no-one’s going to tug themselves off over these. This is a waste of my money, Lass, a waste, and now I’m going to have to pay those girls’ train fare to come up again. I knew I should have got a lad to do these...

      She had the photographs still, the negatives carefully preserved between sheets of crisp tissue paper, the prints neatly labelled in an album discretely marked figure studies. She also had some other images, though, pictures that she hadn’t deemed suitable at the time, where the models’ carefully shaved bodies had revealed more than they should have, where rebellious nipples had poked up or languid labia hung down.

      Cindy didn’t allow herself to open that particular album very often though. It wasn’t work she was proud of and it certainly wasn’t work a great photo artist should ever claim credit for. But she couldn’t bear to throw the pictures away, and sometimes, when the loneliness and the futility had a grip of her, she would furtively spread them out on her bed and masturbate over them, not undressing but slipping her fingers up her skirt and under the elastic of her soft white knickers, feeling the heat and wetness of her own cunt as she pored over the naked curves of the cold models laid out like tarot cards before her.

      She was always bitterly ashamed in the morning and vowed to throw the prints away, but something always stopped her and she would return them guiltily to their box and tuck them behind her albums until the next time.

      Cindy shivered. It was already late in August and the season would soon be over. Time to go back to her mother’s house in Burnley

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