[Redacted] University, sophomore year: Whenever I need some peace and quiet and I need to get some work done, I go to the library. Not to the study area, or the reading room, but up into the stacks. There are a couple of spots where there are desks in corners and in gaps in the shelves. They are always quiet and almost always deserted. I went up there to o...
Dorian Harper swore she'd never visit a lesbian bar. The 47 year old butch librarian was rather conservative and a hopeless introvert. She had nothing against drinking. As a matter of fact, Dorian often enjoyed a post-work beer or two in the comfort of her own home. She hated drunks though, and the drama that almost always came with it, and yet here she was....
You are the very first person my eyes discover as I enter the library. I am soon to turn 32 and I have not been with another woman since, well, since too long ago. I smile at you as I have that thought. Maybe you can read my mind because you smile back at me in a way that makes a delicious shiver slink up my spine. My smile changes into a goofy grin accented...
I left Rebecca's apartment the next morning in a daze, my thoughts filled with what I had gotten Jennifer to do, and what Rebecca had gotten me to do. I kept thinking about what I saw Jennifer doing -- sitting in her car, not sure how to react, smelling her finger -- I kept thinking about this while I, ironically, sat in my car, not sure how to react, and sm...
Hey everybody! I am pretty sure this will lose its formatting, oh well. This is the second chapter of the 'Rags' series. It is emotional, but not dark like the last chapter was. The next two chapters are about learning to deal with tragedy, and how you can find the beauty within a person even if their story was an ugly one. I hope it is enjoyable despite the...
Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consentual or reluctant sex. * The first day I saw her I had just started my new job as a barista on the university campus. I looked up to see the end of the queue and noticed her right away. She was roughly 5ft 10 with very long, coppery red hair, that real shade of red, not the horrid bottle colour. She ha...
Dear reader, I must say I never thought so many of you would appreciate what I have to tell you. Thank you so much for giving me stars, likes and comments. I try to answer all of those comments inhere as well as on my mail. A special thank you and a big hug to my so very patient editor and friend: RandyD1369. This part is all about the building of sexual...
Look, this isn't easy for me to say so I'm just going to say it. My name is Tina Jane Connell, T.J. to my friends, and I'm a biracial woman living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I was born in the City of Calgary, Alberta, to a Jamaican mother and Irish-Canadian father. Expressing myself through writing is one of my hobbies. A lot of things have been happeni...
"What the hell is he talking about?" Shelly leaned over to me asking what our Feminist Theory professor was talking about, again, for the third time this class period. We had only been there for a half hour. Mr. Watkins walked into the class talking and had barely stopped for a breath. "I'm not too sure. Something about sexism as it relates to racism" Shell...
Arianna Whithall sighed quiet acceptance of her fate to herself. Her break was over; the work had to resume. She pushed herself up off the sofa in the communal room and straightened the creases out of her black pencil skirt, checked her hair and makeup were in order in the ladies' bathroom mirror, and headed back downstairs to the library. Her colleague, Pam...