Erotic Lesbian Literature Novels & Stories

I returned to the photos curious what else they took pictures of, realizing what I had seen so far was just the tip of the iceberg. The next dozen pictures were all of Janice again with her head buried between each of the three girl's legs. The pictures didn't get close enough to see any of the girl's cûnts or Janice's tongue. I imagined she was licking away. Some were close-ups of Janice's head between their legs (the couple shots of Janice between Kara's again looking incredibly cool). Some showed the girl's lips pursed or moaning, only confirming my original deduction that Janice was lapping away. Before then, I had read enough lesbian stories to know Janice was either blackmailed or was

something was catching at my mind, something familiar; something inside told me to be careful. She nibbled at the soft skin above my pussy and I quivered, feeling a throb inside me of almost orgasmic strength, and felt my wetness trickling down my bare thigh. I felt lips nibbling, a tongue stroking – and a hesitation. My thoughts leapt into focus – I knew where I had felt this before. Most lesbians and bisexual women have encountered it. The "do I like this taste?" pause, followed by the "can I really do this" hesitation.

Her voice is weak, frail, a stark contrast to the undeniable evidence beneath his touch. But her hips grind. It's a subtle movement at first, an almost imperceptible shift against his body, a small, involuntary twitch. Then it deepens, a rhythmic, desperate thrust, pushing herself against his fingers, seeking more, demanding more. It’s a primal, instinctive response, a betrayal of her own spoken word, a testament to the raw, animalistic truth of her desire. Her body, her rebellious body, is speaking a language her lips deny.

"Now, my love, let me show you how an Alpha pleases his Luna." He picked up a small, leather-bound book from the chest, its pages yellowed with age. "This is a collection of ancient erotic rituals, passed down through generations of werewolves." Flipping through the pages, he found the one he sought. "This ritual, 'The Moon's Embrace,' is said to bring the Luna to heights of ecstasy like no other." Isla's curiosity grew as she watched him read, her eyes fixed on his intense concentration.

I’d spent the majority of my sexual maturity fantasizing over other women – when I first discovered how to bring myself to orgasm at a young age, it was from reading erotic stories about heaving breasts, hard nipples and streaming cunts. All my sexual experiences up till now had been with men, and they were great – I love men and don’t think that anything could replace the feeling of being fucked hard by a man with a big hard erection for you. Just because I wanted to experience a woman didn’t mean I was a lesbian. Maybe it just means I’m a horny slut?

I said to Ginger, as I slipped my hands under her nightshirt and felt her bare ass with both of my hands. "Right, they don't know about our sapphic love affairs yet," said Ginger. "Sapphic, I like that word. Why have we not used it before?" I asked. "Probably because I only just learned it last week while reading a story on Literotica," said Ginger. "Literotica, what's that?" I asked. "Only the best website in the world for erotic literature and the like. You should check it out," said Ginger. "I'll do that when we get back home, it sounds interesting!" I replied.

While the teen lesbian party was taking place Mother was entertaining two other lesbian women and they watched us at play before retiring to Mother’s grand sex boudoir for an afternoon of sexual pleasure. Both women had military experience and had come to give advice for Mother as she planned to form her own army of lesbian warriors. One of the women was a big powerfully built butch lesbian with strong bulging muscles. Meanwhile the schoolgirl orgy was in full swing with panting and screaming girls playing all over the gardens. As Emily worked my clit I felt the shuddering as an orgasm wracked my body and Emily squealed with pleasure as a jet of pussy juice erupted into her mouth. I squirted

She said, "Don't worry about it. Look all you want. It's not like I'm going to lose anything." She really didn't care. She was showing off her smooth legs right in front of me and letting me stare all I wanted. I smiled back and said, "You're really something. Those are the prettiest legs I've ever seen." And just like that, we started chatting back and forth. It turned out that her name was Lauren Ward. She had a boyfriend, but he could never satisfy her. Every time they were together, he would be done after just a few moments. The more frustrated Lauren became, the more she craved release, so she started using toys to take care of herself.

She smiled and ended 'I do sound it don't I? Julia rarely smiled, at least not at work, but when she did it lit up the entire room. 'A bit,' I conceded, 'seriously though. Have you ever read any erotica?' 'No. I just don't like all that foul language.' 'Eroticism is in the mind,' I argued, 'you don't need bad language to be erotic but equally the language of love, however crude, is nearly always erotic to some. Look I've just finished reading a story that I think you'll like. Why don't you read that and then decide?'

Masculine in its restraint, yet unmistakably lived in. Elizabeth slipped off her heels at the entry, bare feet silent on the cool floor. Her eyes drifted to the art, several pieces caught her immediately. Framed photographs and paintings of women entwined: soft curves pressed together, mouths open in ecstasy, hands gripping thighs, backs arched. Lesbian erotica rendered with reverence, beautiful, unapologetic, sensual. One in particular: two women on silk sheets, one straddling the other, heads thrown back, fingers buried deep. The composition was raw yet tender.