The grasshopper, dictyophorus spumans, perched on the red oat grass. The large black eyes and the thick antenna gave it an alien look. The waxy exoskeleton made the red and black color on the legs stand out even more. The body was covered with yellow and brown dashes. A swift side move and a jump away made it disappear off the grass leaf. The red oat grass,...
Author's Note: This is chapter two in my Wound in Time series. The story contains mainly F/F action as well as a plot. It's a lengthy piece that will not exactly satisfy your search for instant gratification. Okay, maybe it will. You needn't have read the first one but if you want extra juice on the characters, checking it out will be a good fix. That said,...
Emily shivered and cursed Keith vehemently. This was all his fault, and really made her wonder why she stayed with such an asshole. She shivered and huddled closer to the cold stone wall of the comfort station where she was stranded, at a rest area somewhere on I-81 in Virginia. They had been going to New Orleans for spring break with some friends when natur...
A collective groan rose from the auditorium as Dr. Smith finished her lecture. Dana always enjoyed this class, well, watching the tall professor anyway. Helen Smith was the kind of woman everyone gave a second look too. Dana suspected many people took that second look and wondered why they did so, and then moved on without more than a brief curiosity. Most w...
Beatrice Dawson is the name. I'm a tall, curvy and dark-skinned, beautiful Black woman in her mid-forties living in the city of Atlanta, Georgia. I am a professor of African-American Literature at Spelman College. These days, life is cool. I recently left my husband Dwight after I caught him cheating on me with a skinny white woman half his age. Twenty years...
Yasmin Sharif knew that Stephanie Claude was trouble the moment she walked into the Little Mogadishu Restaurant on that particular Tuesday evening, sauntering in with a bright smile and confident stride, like she owned the place. The young Haitian Canadian woman had that unique swagger common to those gals from the City of Montreal, Quebec. A style, confiden...
Last week, while walking through the Algonquin College campus in the City of Nepean, Ontario, I came across a vision of beauty. Sagal Hussein, a six-foot-tall and bodacious beauty of Somali and Italian descent. With her curvaceous loveliness hidden by a traditional Islamic long skirt and her pretty face framed by the Hijab, this lady definitely stood out amo...
"Jagdeep, wake the fuck up, we've got work in an hour," Sagal Warsame said, and the young Somali Muslim woman shook her partner's shoulder, then slapped it. The sting of the shoulder slap caused Jagdeep to bolt awake. Jagdeep sat upright on the bed, still wearing those ridiculous Superman pajamas that she swore to Sagal that she'd get rid of...when they firs...
Avery Johnson lived in Mexico. No...this story does not take place south of the border where the tequila is ingested like water, and almost anything can happen. This story begins in a small, almost unknown town in the north east part of the state of Missouri. Nestled between the acres of corn, wheat, farms and forest is Mexico. In a rather ancient two-bedroo...
My name is Eloise Jenkins and I'm a young woman living in the city of Brockton, Massachusetts. I'm around five-foot-ten, kind of plump, with red hair, green eyes and alabaster skin. I'm an Irish-American lesbian and I'm also a BDSM fanatic. By nature, I am submissive. My Mistress Kendra Jones taught me all I know. She's a six-foot-three, curvy and big-bottom...