LGBT Stories

Let me tell you about the best lover I’ve ever had. She’s kind of chubby and not much to look at, but she knows exactly what it takes to make me come. When I’m not in the mood she leaves me alone, but when I’m hot and ready she goes right to work. We’ve been having a red-hot affair for years and years and I still love to see the horny little grin on her face — every time I look in the mirror.

The two of us have never been very discreet and I always figured that our lack of restraint would come back to haunt us some day. It finally happened a couple of months ago and I will get to that story in a while. But first, I think you will enjoy the story of how we got acquainted in the first place

We met at an all-girls Catholic boarding school right after I turned fourteen. My parents had never talked to me about sex, but I could see that I was developing breasts and hips and hair on my pussy. I had also begun to notice that, when I showered with the other girls, I was experiencing oddly pleasant feelings between my legs. And I kept having those feelings again and again because I simply couldn’t keep my eyes off the firm breasts, perky nipples and triangles of pubic hair right there in front of me.

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As I stormed out of his condo and slammed the door behind me I shouted back at him those two little words which so often signal the end of a relationship: FUCK YOU! That discharged about one zillionth of my anger as I stomped past the broken express elevator in the office building/condo.

I pressed the down button on the “local” with fragments of his words reverberating inside my brain: Wife . . . Reconciliation . . . Mistake. I had worn my sexiest outfit and had arrived feeling horny. What was supposed to be a passionate night ended in the first five minutes.

I stepped into the elevator and, in a desperate attempt to find solace in the familiar, stared hard at the numbers as it began to descend. The elevator stopped and someone got on. I did not even glance at whoever it was, but stayed fixed on the numbers as they counted down the wrenching end of a chapter in my life.

It started again and the numbers read 43, 42, 41, 40 and then, suddenly, the elevator jolted to a halt and all the lights went out. I was too angry to be scared and blurted out “this fucking elevator is all I need.”

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When Elisa moved out two weeks ago neither of us shed a tear. It was inevitable. We made the fatal mistake of trying to turn lust into love and we never even came close. Then the lust was gone and there was nothing left.

It was so promising in the beginning. We met at a party and immediately noticed how similar we looked. Both in our late twenties, both with long dark hair. Her boobs were bigger than mine, but other than that we were two peas in a pod. We looked at each other and both liked what we saw. I asked her to dance and our bodies seemed to fit like hand in glove. We breathed in the hot pheromones we were sending to each other and exchanged phone numbers.

I called her the next day and I went to her the place the next night. It took us about ten seconds to rip off our clothes and jump into her large soft bed. The sexual chemistry was unbelievable. I let her start making love to me and it was a revelation. One of life’s sure things is that if a woman does something to you in bed she will want it back. And she did absolutely everything that I liked the most.

She kissed me deeply and poured her saliva into my mouth. That is one of the biggest turn-ons for me and I greedily swallowed every drop. How could she have known I loved that? She sucked my nipples and then bit them hard enough to give me a rush of pain and pleasure. She spread me wide open, entered me quickly and fucked me with her long fingers. Then she started massaging my G-spot as she bent down and swirled my clit in her mouth. In just a few seconds I had an unbelievable head-to-toe orgasm and squirted my juices all over her. If I had handed her a written script she couldn’t have done me better.

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So here I am once again writing another story about love, life and great
sex. But is that all what love and being in love is all about what about
the other side of the fence the pain, the tears, the heartache you go
through for weeks on end after a breakup then finally you meet up with
someone else but you don’t fully trust like you used to and now your new
partner can see that and it’s causing some strain on the relationship.

She goes out late at night and stays out until ungodly hours without even
a phone call to stop your heart from worrying that maybe she has had a
car accident or the fact that she may have been raped or worse yet she
had been stabbed to death, sounds gothic doesn’t it and makes you seem
like a over protective girlfriend but you remember a little of what hell
you went through with your last girlfriend and it seems like it’s
happening again, your on that same roller coaster ride all over again.

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This story is one of my favorites and I have had written down for years
now I just never thought about posting it onto nifty up until now that
is. It was one of those things with me being at the age I am now and
growing up the way I did you never really think that most people
understand it but then you get the odd email from people or friends
saying that they do.

Which brings me to the story ahead; Eliza was her name she was (what
society lesbians call these days) butch she had a small fem touch to her
but most of it was butch, she was searching for a few things in life love
just like everyone else but she also wanted companionship and respect not
much to ask for but to ask most people these days for that much is asking
way to much.

She ached for affection, she ached for the touch of a lover’s hand and
all she wanted more then anything was to lay beside her lover and just
hold her while they both slept. Sometimes she caught herself during the
day thinking of whether or not she was ever going to find `the one’ and
whether or not she would ever feel happy.
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My name is Christine. I’m twenty-six, single and work in marketing support for a high-tech computer company. I had to go to Las Vegas for a four-day trade show, and at the end of the first day of standing in heels talking to customers for ten hours, my feet and legs were killing me. One of our sales reps, an attractive brunette from Seattle, asked me if I wanted to share a cab back to the hotel. We had struck up a friendship during the day, and I was happy to have her company.

Her name was Laura and she appeared to be a year or two older than I was. During our brief lunch break together, I found out that she was divorced and lived on her own. She had been with the company for three years and was very good at sales. While working the booth, I caught myself admiring Laura’s slim figure: her legs were long and she wore her skirt about mid-thigh. She got a lot of second glances from the men that wandered onto our booth. Her eyes were a deep shade of green and her dark walnut colored hair flowed down below her shoulders. Between the two of us, we seemed to spend more time turning down propositions for dinner than discussing computer technology.
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As I bent over to see what was in the refrigerator, Vanessa came up from behind and ran her hand down my ass. I moaned as she teased my anus with her fingertip. Then she gave my vagina a loving caress.

“Is pussy all you think about?” I asked.

“Just this one,” Vanessa said, continuing to rub me.

I had to brace myself against the door when she slid a finger inside.

“Do you stay wet all the time?” she asked.

“You should know.” I became breathless. “You’re the one that’s always checking.”

“Maybe I’ll just stop, Leslie.” Vanessa took her hand away.

I grabbed her wrist and straightened to face my lover. “You’re the reason I’m soaked all the time.” I kissed the finger that was just inside me.

“Then quit complaining.” Vanessa wrapped her arms around my neck. “What do you expect me to do? I walk in here and see you bent over showing that beautiful ass of yours. I’m supposed to just ignore it?”
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It was a rainy day when I alighted at Bombay for the first time. I was married to a wealthy businessman from Goa. Rainy days at Bombay are real hell. You see all beautiful Victorian buildings and Manhattan like sky scrappers in pictures, films and all other booklets about Bombay. But if you happen to land at Bombay on a rainy day, your dreams will die first. I was also like you only, totally upset with the ugly black mud, the roads full of potholes, train traffic totally disrupted. My husband took a taxi and we reached a flat complex. But the ground was full of water and street children were playing in the mud water. I could not distinguish between road, playground, and campus. Everywhere it was flood like situation. (more…)

When I got the job it was quite a surprise to me. I have just completed the engineering course and was selected by a multinational firm as project associate. My classmates were praising my luck, but I was bit depressed. I wanted to have a long vacation after years of study and assignments. But for a computer professional opportunities just cannot be missed. I was appointed at Bangalore the garden city but now called cyber city of India. But the company was not giving any accommodation. Fortunately the PRO of the company helped me. She was an elderly lady named Maria John about the age of 40 wearing spectacles and with lipstick clad full mouth, and always at the desk promptly with a `kiss me’ look. Private companies select the best sexy women for their receptions, I felt jealous at the way she keeps her figure and how efficiently she manages the clients and visitors. She told me that she was sharing a flat with another girl who is a physiotherapist at a five star hospital nearby. She was looking for a residence near to her hospital and she was thus searching for a partner to share the rent. The rent was bit higher on the side but I was fed up with the life at the hostels. The hostels do not offer much privacy and the environment is the same everywhere long hall type, with common toilets. In most of the hostels girls share there dresses even the under wears. I did not like the practice but I had a room mate who never buys anything for herself and take my clothes, soap and even she wore my panties one day. Keeping the panties and bra under locking etc is very difficult. So I accepted the offer and moved to her flat the very next day I reached Bangalore. She had a small second hand car, and I admired the away she handles the car. She would get through any traffic jam with her car unscathed like riding a scooter. (more…)