Lesbianas Calientes Novels & Stories

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.

Lola POV I am in heat?! It’s a natural reaction, but somehow I wasn’t expecting this. Doesn’t this only happen to marked she wolves? And I am not even marked yet? When a she wolf (and dragons too I guess) is in heat, their body temperature is off the charts and they are incredibly horny, until their s*xual tension is.. relieved. Or so I have been told. I haven’t educated myself much on the topic, as I wasn’t ever intending on having a mate, so I am unsure what to expect. “What is going to happen?” I croak out in response. Zane touches my arm and before I know it, we have teleported to goddess knows where. We seem to be inside some sort of cabin, with a veranda leading up to a pier on a beaut

I said, guilt washing over me. I carried her to the bathroom to clean up, but the moment we stepped under the shower, things got dirty again. I kissed her hard, our tongues fighting as the water ran over us. She tasted so fucking sweet. My cock was already rock hard again, pressing against her swollen belly. “Can I go again?” I asked, voice rough with need. “Just one more time… after today I won’t disturb you again.” Ann didn’t hesitate. She turned around, braced her hands on the shower wall, and pushed her ass back toward me. “Fuck me, Kaleb. Use me like your little slut.”

3. LISA I’m completely lost in the moment, fingers buried knuckle-deep in my dripping pussy, thrusting quick and messy while my eyes stay half-closed on the laptop screen. The lesbian p**n blasts wet tongue sounds and desperate girl moans that make my cunt squeeze even tighter around my fingers. My other hand attacks my heavy tits, pinching my stiff nipples until the sharp sting blends into pure pleasure, squeezing the soft flesh hard like I’m trying to pull an orgasm out of them.

Emily might be on to another woman crush by next week, who knows? Jane brushed a strand of hair from Lucy's face, which never failed to make Lucy blushed. They smiled at each other again. "Sorry we're late!" Emily burst out into the room. Heather had a load of books in her arms. "What do you have with you?" Jane asked. "And please don't tell me it's one of the lesbian pulp fictions again." "But Odd Girl Out was so good!" Emily protested. Lately, the former president of Loser Club had been digging into the genre a bit too deep.

His tiny caged cock, locked in a pink steel chastity cage for four straight months now, leaked constantly whenever she even whispered about her plans. It was Cindy’s 29th birthday. She had rented out the entire top floor of an exclusive rooftop club in Manhattan that catered to the city’s most discreet high-end swingers and kink community. The venue had a glass-walled penthouse suite overlooking the skyline, complete with a large circular bed platform in the center, multiple couches, a fully stocked bar, and a raised stage area with spotlights.

The dimly lit loft pulsed with a low, sensual hum, velvet curtains drawn to shield the night outside, the air thick with perfume and anticipation. I stood near the bar, my silk dress clinging to my skin, the fabric teasing my curves as I surveyed the room, my adventurous spirit drawn to the whispered rumors of this exclusive gathering. I’d explored my desires before, but the promise of a lesbian orgy—a tangle of women lost in pleasure—ignited a wildfire in my core, my pussy tingling with eager curiosity as the first guests arrived.

She's got moonglow tits that bob in night waters, perfect round globes like curled-up white rabbits with black peaks of areola and gray nipples because she's all poison and ebony eyes and milky skin. She's curled up in my closet in a nest fit for the Zu bird and sweet seraph curses and she crows and speaks the language of birds that are girls, or girls that are monsters, with scaled legs and owl wings from ancient Sumerian carvings, but she's not perched on two lions, her thin wan legs are jumping on your bed and you're throwing pillows at each other and painting her lips and talons with a pop of cherry poison. It's all fun and games until arsenic kisses and slashed throats of words fly, it'

In chaste bands, the matrons of Elysium honored their new queen with songs before the newlywed goddesses went to their secluded room. Through the open windows, the breeze from the five rivers carried the sound of hissing waves dashed against the thirsty black shore. Inside the chamber, a bronze brazier burned away with its brilliant flames. The flower-scented space was finely lit like a dream. Their marriage bed was neatly made for them with red petals of roses laid beautifully. With genial and kindly fashion, Hades induced her young wife to sit on a soft cushioned seat beside herself.

•.• Skylar •.• “I’m Room 16,” Harper said, staring at her phone. “Queens Hall.” She looked up at me. The school had sent out details of students’ dorm rooms and every other vital piece of information through email. “What room are you?” she asked, and I pursed my lips, staring down at my phone. “Room 17…” I was interrupted when Harper shrieked and threw her arms around me. “Our rooms will be right next to each other!” she grinned, and I cocked my head to the side.