Apr 24, 2014

Ben groans wantonly --- This is heaven (teaser)

Brigittå Håågen Dasz, the author of flame-hot romance novels, continues to share the events of last night:  

“It’s the same with love, Alex. The sensual and the physical, it’s not an easy marriage. Women, you may have noticed, are more practical when it comes to the inevitable; they bear children, they live longer. So Jane shakes Ben’s maleness knowingly, precum coating his crown, dripping off in all directions, then whispers: ‘He’s about to burst, no way he can hold this, he'll explode at the very moment of penetration. Let’s enjoy his fountain while it lasts. He has two more ejaculations to go, at least, one for each of us, I know men.’

The fountain of Geneva

“I signal my consent. ‘Shall I?” she asks. I nod. Jane clutches Ben’s rutting rod at the bottom, cups his balls, squeezes a couple of times, and---you’ve heard of the Fountain of Geneva, I presume, the monument built by Hadrian, the Roman emperor, to commemorate the most memorable event of his love live---the Fountain of Geneva erupts. While Diana is squeezing the lustspiel one last time, the ongoing, persistent moans of its owner---hereunto a languishing, slowly building crescendo---burst into cries of rampant surfeit. “Aaahhhggg,” Ben groans wantonly, “aaahhggg.” A first contraction of his abdomen shakes him (and us) to the bones, and now a second contraction brings forth a gush of sheer delight, a jet of man milk so pure, so resplendent, so turbulent that both of us girls gasp in pounding admiration, our hearts filled with joy, our mouth gape-wide-open, and while the fountain spurts yet again, and again, and again, his goo, so destined for the moon and the stars, has gently reversed direction---thank the Almighty for that---and is raining on us, the authors of this climax. We were lightly dressed, at that point, thank you. More spurts are forthcoming, more delight is shared, more jungle jizz flies across the skies like sparks in a firework from Louis of Versailles. You get the idea.


Ben groans wantonly, “aaahhggg.” A first contraction of his abdomen shakes him (and us) to the bones

"Ben, half-recumbent throughout the performance, sinks back. We lick his goo and find it sweet like honey. Jane refills the flutes with more champagne. A short break is observed.”

If you like this, why don't you try the GREEN EYES, the first part of the whole story. The book is out now on Amazon ("click"):

Night Owl Reviews

Go here for the previous teaser, here for the next one, and here for a choice of chapters of the Green Eyes. And if you were wondering about the Fountain of Geneva, go here.

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