Open: Five Filthy Bisexual Erotic Stories is now available at Amazon for Kindles, with the print edition coming soon!
This collection of five stories is a celebration of women's bisexuality, featuring sexy stories by Tenille Brown, Sommer Marsden, Alison Tyler, Saskia Walker, and myself.
Here's an excerpt from my story "Hot & Bothered."
Kiki was a hot piece of ass. The first time I tasted her was after a night of tossing back tequila at the Cubbyhole—and let me tell you, she was the perfect chaser. At the time, little did I know how many dirty things such a sweet-faced chick would make me do—and how she’d push my buttons, taking me places I was too scare to admit I’d wanted to go. Well, too scared to admit to anyone but Kiki. But that girl held on to everything. One hushed whisper uttered in the heat of orgasm would plant itself in her head and flower into the most incredibly filthy adventure when I least expected it. She quickly became an expert at reading me—at figuring out what I wanted and what would make me come harder and longer than I ever thought possible. And that’s how I wound up on my knees, sucking Tucker’s dick while she tugged my hair and whispered in my ear that it didn’t matter how good I was at eating pussy—she’d always known I was a cock-hungry slut.
I was instantly attracted to Kiki the minute I laid eyes on her, which threw me for a loop because she was the exact opposite of every other woman I’d ever hooked up with. She stood out—a delicate flower amidst a scruffy crowd of stone-butch dykes and pretty bois posturing for their next pickups. I was a leather-wearing tough, who often bedded the same, but who always wound up on top. That was just the way I rolled. I was so attracted to Kiki that I almost felt guilty—almost. She was a petite femme with pink glossed lips, ice-blue eyes and shiny blonde tresses; there was nothing controversial about her. She looked like a cookie-cutter sorority sister trying to be bad. Try as she might to appear downtown, Kiki was anything but in her designer jeans and brand-new biker boots. She came from money—I could tell—and I wondered if she was just slumming for adventure or if she honestly was into girls. I hoped like hell she was, because as I leaned against the bar with my drink in hand, I felt my cunt getting wetter by the second. And when she looked at me and smiled, I began to absolutely ache for her.