Latina Lesbianas Novels & Stories

"Luciana has a way of making 'no' sound like an invitation to a funeral." Lanka followed his gaze. Three women stood in a tight circle, dripping in diamonds. His stomach bottomed out. He knew Thalia—Sofia Rivera. She was sharp, observant, and married to the family’s best lawyer. Next to her was Adriana Castillo, a former model whose face had been on every hit-list and billboard in the city. The third woman was the organizer, Luciana Delgado. They saw the Riveras approaching. Adriana smiled—a shark-like expression—and led the group toward them.

“I still wanna know, bisexual women feel both dick and pussy, right?” Joe was drunk, talking in Zahn's face. “Now, people claim that lesbians don't feel dick at all. How's that possible?” Zahn looked at him like he was annoying her. “That's cause they don't.”

“As you wish, Sire.” The ladies moved the wooden table in front of the bed and went to their respective position. The taller lied her back on the table, pulling her knees up while messing her clitoris with her long fingers. She arched her back as she pushed them inside her. The shorter one doesn't want to be left out. She chuckled as she squatted on the taller lady’s face, pressing her genitals on her mouth to shut it up. She squirmed in pleasure. ‘This is insane,’ Latina thought, her eyes were teary. The sight was agonizing. She needed to be touched, needed to be filled, and she needed Sebastian to do it.

The woman before him puffed a tremendous amount of smoke out of her mouth after taking a long, deep drag from the cigarette in her hand and then said: “You're a sick man..” Aylla Pedro, the woman who was sitting across from him as they sat in this abandoned and cordoned-off building, was a thirty-three-year-old woman who led a group of rebels known as 'Les Latinas De La Muerte’ which accepted only females into their group, females who were tired of being ruled by men, who wanted to carve a path to success for themselves and who didn't mind getting their hands stained with blood in the process, women for whom violence was a way of life, who saw men as oppressors and beasts, who wanted to twea

Catarina smiled like a knife, her violet lips, crimson eyes, and bronzy skin shining like a wind chime. Catarina's sleek, proud black hair cut like a blade across her face, and the Aswang Queen smirked, winking at Ambrosio. "Men can't tell time, Ambrosio. Always waging war, instead of keeping peace like us women. That is why the humans of Mindanao and Domminga Mountain valleys used their warrior shaman to forbid the offerings of babies to us as servants, and why those miscreants Aswang feast upon pregnant fetuses. To not embrace change, dear Ambrosio..." Catarina sighed, petting a stray tarsier. "Is to die. And Ikapati, she does not want her daughters and sons to die."

My dating debacles seemed to bring all the women in my life together. Somehow, through no fault of my own, Veronica, Trish, Beck, Stella, and Roxie had all formed an alliance against my sexuality. One would think lesbians would welcome other women into their tribe, encourage them to explore the nether lips, embrace the love of estrogen-not my friends. The more time I spent with them, the closer we all became, which was great, except they'd united in a plight to return me to the heterosexual dating pool. I felt cheated, unwanted. I threatened to call the LGBTQ Human Alliance about their discrimination, to which they all found great humor.

“Do not make this more painful than it needs to be.” Latina glared at him, defiance etched across her face. “You can’t do this,” she spat. “I am not yours to command. You son of a bitch, bastard son of a thousand father latina cursed breathing heavy… No matter how fierce or strong a woman is…her tongue is hardly tamed….Lucia's son said

I rolled my eyes, already walking toward the building. “It’s not money, Dorla. Please… just don’t go to Jason’s house right now.” I laughed lightly. “Too late, I’m already here. I’ll call you back later, okay?” I blew her a kiss through the phone. “Dorla, please don’t…” I ended the call before she could finish. Having lesbian friends was honestly a blessing. Out of my three close friends, two were lesbians, Lila and another girl so they had zero interest in men and would never try to steal my boyfriend.

Until next time you stay girly and I'll stay in the closet awaiting my best opportunity to finally escape. Love, Teagan The Closeted Lesbian

over every fucking thing. That’s why I said yes when my friend Marisol texted me about this rooftop thing in Bushwick, it wasn’t some random bar night. It was one of those invite-only lesbian parties the girls in the know whisper about, the ones with the password at the door and the guest list that gets passed around in DMs. They call it “Siren” and it happens like twice a summer. Everyone’s hot, everyone’s queer, and nobody’s pretending they’re there to network.