Lesbian Erotica Mega Collection

Kathleen Hope Mia loved her job. Writing an advice column for sexually troubled people was a task she was perfectly suited for. She had a therapy degree and an uncanny ability to place herself in other’s people’s shoes. Every day, her inbox greeted her with a new challenge. Monday morning was no exception. Mia read the email seconds after dragging herself out of bed. She hadn’t had her coffee yet, but the email’s explosive content jolted her wide awake. Dear Mia, After years of marriage, my husband and I had become accustomed to wild, passionate s*x night after night – sometimes up to three or four times a day. Taking a break from the email, Mia fanned herself. “Three or four times a day?” she shouted. “Whew!” But lately things have changed. His hours at work have picked up, leaving him exhausted when he comes home at night. To put it bluntly, I want more. I’d love to return to the days of endless lovemaking between the two of us, the days where he would spend hours tickling my body with gentle strokes and licks until I simply couldn’t take it anymore. Mia leaned back in her chair easing her legs apart slowly. It was a challenge to keep her mind from drifting, but she somehow kept reading. The problem is I’m too shy to demand what I want from him. I usually just accept his neglect in silence, hoping that someday he’ll change. But he never does. If I’m lucky, we have s*x once a week, and even then it’s not very good. I want him to take his time and explore every area of my body. I want his lips, his tongue, his teeth savoring me all over, but he usually just wants to get it over with and to get back to sleep. Like I said, I’m shy, so I’m not so good at telling him what I want. Can you help me, Mia? Unsatisfied Frida Catching her breath, Mia considered Frida’s situation and contemplated her reply. This contemplation required her to step away from her computer and lean across her couch, her mind flooded with images that sent her a million miles from her office. Mia pictured herself in the living room of Frida and her husband. It was a modest blue collar home, loud TV, not much decorations. Her husband sat on the couch, beer in hand. Frida sat on the other end of the couch clad in a tattered bathrobe, her hair a mess. She took Frida by the wrist, gently tugging her from the couch as she whispered into her ear. “Frida darling, if you’d like to get your husband’s libido roaring back to life, you may have to work a little harder than that. After a hard day of work, he may need a little extra effort on your part to get him interested.” Frida said, “Yeah, but why should I put all that effort into something he won’t even notice. He didn’t even notice that new haircut I got last week or that cute pair of shoes I bought.” “Frida, Frida, Frida. Of course, he didn’t notice those things. He’s a man. He doesn’t care about cute haircuts or adorable new shoes. If you want his attention, you’ll have to think the way he thinks. Boobs and butts. Don’t dress to impress your girlfriends. Dress like somebody who wants to be ravished. Can you do that?” “I’ll try.” As Frida stepped away from the couch and into the bedroom, Mia slithered up to Bruce. “Hi there,” she said. Without looking away from the TV, he grunted a reply. “Hey.” “Bruce, do you suppose your wife is satisfied with you sexually?” He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess so. She hasn’t been complaining.” “Do you remember the first time you kissed her on the neck?” Finally turning from the TV, he chuckled. “Yeah. We were kissing in the back of my old Isuzu and she’s playing her good girl routine, pulling away from me. But I know she wanted more.” “How did you know?” He shrugged. “Just a hunch.” “You see, Bruce, your wife isn’t going to simply come out and tell you what she wants. She won’t do that. Good girls are instructed not to bluntly demand what they want. But trust me, she wants more.” “More? Like what? Whips and chains in the bedroom?” “No, more of you. More kissing, caressing. More passion.” “Sure, I can do that.” “Can you? Show me what you can do.” Bruce lunged forward, his large hands landing on her hips. They kissed deep and hard like teenagers, as he hungrily groped for me. Heated by Bruce’s kisses, Mia felt like she was melting. His hands drove further up her skirt and inside her blouse, his breathless kisses dropping to her neck and her boobs. “Awwww, Bruce! This is sooooo wonderful!” Mia loved every second of being ravished. But Bruce was just getting started. Still clutching those ample boobs, he kissed his way further south until he reached her spread legs. With his teeth, he pulled her panties past her ankles. By the time he brought his mouth back to her p***y, Mia was on the verge of an eruption. Her legs flailed wildly and he used his tongue to flick that swollen c******s into a throbbing mess. She grabbed his ears, tugging him closer as her body jerked and shuddered across the couch, legs swinging nearly up to her face. Things accelerated to a higher plane when a second set of hands reached her boobs. She looked up to see Frida there, her hair and clothes unrecognizably sexy. Frida said, “Wow, I haven’t seen him this revved up in ages! What can I do to keep him in this state?” Scanning Frida’s sexy new attire, Mia answered. “You’re on the right track, honey.” Bruce seemed to agree, alternating his kisses between both women. With her work now done, it was time for Mia to extract herself from Bruce and Frida’s life. It wasn’t easy. Finally tugging herself free, she left the couch and wished the couple good luck. As the fantasy faded away, the last image in her head was of Bruce and Frida tangled in sweaty passion. In her fantasy, she stood there watching the couple grind hard and heavy against each other, her own body left in an unsatisfied state. But in real life, there was much she could do to satisfy herself. In fact, with her legs wide and her back flat against the couch cushions, she was well on her way. With busy fingers, she stroked her blazing p***y into a wildfire, simultaneously brushing against her clit and plunging deep into her p***y lips. A labored groan fell from her lips, her legs flapping wildly and her face stretched into a grimace. She pictured herself the target of Bruce and Frida’s affections, their kisses and licks coming from both directions. Then she imagined the couple dividing their duties between them, Bruce dropping to her white-hot p***y to press his lips into the furnace of her valley, and Frida bringing her sweet lips to her face, wetting her mouth, her eyes, her cheeks, her ears, her neck. When the lovely torture of this couple’s adoration became too much, she buckled into orgasm, hips swinging, legs clamping tight. Mia could barely keep her body from tumbling off the couch. After resting for a second and reflecting on the splendor she’d just encountered, she collected herself and scraped her limp body off the couch. The fantasy was fun, but she had work to do. She gave the letter a quick reread then, channeling the fantasy she’d just had, she wrote her reply. Dear Frida, It seems to me that both you and Bruce have some work to do if you want to revive your s*x life. If you’d like to get your husband’s libido roaring back to life, you may have to work a little harder than you have been. After a hard day of work, it may take a little extra effort on your part to get things going. Perhaps you think you have been putting extra effort that he’s been ignoring. After all, you’ve gotten haircuts and new shoes he hasn’t even noticed. But the problem may be that you’re thinking like a woman instead of a man. Men don’t notice things like that. They notice boobs and butts. Makeup and sexy hair don’t hurt either. If your husband still doesn’t respond with the fervor you’d like, he may need some encouragement. Remind him that you need more time than he does to get your engine started. He may be a microwave oven, but you’re a slow-cooking crockpot. The key is to be a sexy crockpot – one he wants to heat up on a regular basis. Satisfied with her reply, Mia posted it on her blog, the ashes of her fantasy still burning bright. She thought for a second about returning to the couch and giving herself a second orgasm. But a glance at the clock told her she didn’t have time. In fact she was running late for a date with Greg. Scrambling to her feet she headed for the shower, hoping her date wouldn’t be upset about her third lateness this week. It was times like this that Mia suspected she liked her job a little too much. It was simply too easy to leave the real world behind and drift far into the world of pure fantasy. Angie The diner was always busy during lunchtime. But the rush Angie had just experienced was insane. With the place now emptying out, she took the opportunity to grab a quick drink of water and catch her breath. “That was something, wasn’t it, Angie?” The other waitress asked. “Haven’t seen a rush like that in a while. It’s times like that I think it’d be nice to go find another job. How about you?” Angie laughed. “No way, Bobbie. Harvey would probably kill me if I left him.” “You’re right,” Bobby said. “I’m going to go out and have a smoke. Be right back.” Taking a good look at the diner, Angie wondered if her joke about Harvey killing her really was a joke. With the two of them engaged to be married, Harvey probably wouldn’t take kindly to his best waitress taking off on him – especially without notice. She shrugged off the worry, figuring that at least she had a decent job and in a week, she’d have a decent husband. To ask for any more would seem greedy. A lady stepped into the diner, her long, dark hair capturing Angie’s eye before she spoke a word. As she took a seat in a booth, Angie walked over, her face covered with a grin. “Welcome to Clearwater, ma’am. What can I get you?” Eyes slanted, the woman stared for a while without speaking. “How did you know I was new in town?” “Well, I’d never seen you before, and this is a town where everybody knows everybody. So I guess that makes you nobody – so far.” The woman’s face slowly warmed into a smile. The eye contact between them felt like a challenge. “How do I get to become somebody around here?” “A name is a good start.” “Cheryl. What’s yours?” Angie scanned the woman’s stylish clothes and the long, sleek frame underneath them. Pointing to her nametag, she said, “Angie.” “Sorry, I didn’t see your name tag.” “That’s okay. Happens all the time. Although usually it happens to truckers who are distracted by my cleavage.” The woman’s eyes dropped to Angie’s boobs. Biting her lip, she said, “I can imagine that. Although I was more distracted by your eyes. They are this luminous shade of aquamarine.” “Luminous, huh? That’s not a word we get tossed around all that much here in Clearwater.” “Well, I don’t use it that much in my home town either, but that’s because I don’t see eyes that adorable very often.” A playful sneer came to Angie’s face. Voice lowered to a seductive growl, she said, “Well, speaking of adorable, I think you may have the cutest little –“But the heavy footsteps behind her stopped her. Those were Harvey’s footsteps – which meant it was time to stop flirting. “Um… what would like ma’am?” Angie asked. “Grilled cheese sandwich would be fine, with a side order of coleslaw and a glass of orange juice.” “Great, we’ll have that for you shortly.” Turning to the kitchen, she saw Harvey standing there, his menacing eyes all over her. “If you want a break, this is the time,” he said.