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Introduction: Katy Perry’s hit song, I Kissed a Girl, brought bisexuality to the forefront. I admit I was amazed when I heard my neighbor’s five-year-old daughter singing the entire song, never missing a word or beat. Alternative lifestyles are open for discussion—no longer taboo.

Since Dr. Alfred Kinsey released his first reports on human sexual behavior in1948, society has been in the process of accepting that almost all healthy men and women have some homosexual tendencies. Instead of hiding these inclinations in shame, it’s time to celebrate our desires and be comfortable in our own skin. No labels, no judgment—only enlightenment and tolerance. I’m not suggesting that all humans are bisexual. As I have discovered, being aroused by an erotic story doesn’t label anyone. I can get excited reading BDSM, but don’t try spanking me in bed. Because I am passionate about same-sex erotica does not make me bisexual, but it has enhanced my ability to love and accept. This anthology is a collection of lesbian first-time encounters. I am delighted with the diversity of this collection. I hope you enjoy and share my passion for exploring new boundaries.

Regina Perry
July 2009

“Defining Lines” by Regina Perry

The steam shower is as high-tech as Star Trek. The music, new-age xylophone, chimes around me. Orange essence from the essential oil she poured into the diffuser permeates my senses. Colored light shifts from blue to green to gold. The music, the oils, the steam affects me, relaxes me, drifts me into the zone. I reach out and turn the middle knob far left. Six nozzles spray my torso at different angles. The upper jets hit my nipples. I squirm. I redirect the bottom spouts to my mons. My nipples are hard and tingly. I run my hands up my stomach, encircle my breasts, then down between my legs. I slide the middle finger of both hands inside my slit and spread the folds. Tilting my pelvis at just the right slant, the spray engages my clit. I use my thumbs to lift the labia and get the full force of the water. My head falls back, and I shudder as the squirts propel me into nirvana.

I’m so engrossed in the ecstasy I don’t hear the double doors slide open and close. I don’t sense the bodily presence behind me until I feel arms encircle my waist. “I knew you’d know what to do with those jets,” I hear Ginger utter into my ear.

I collapse against her. She glides her hands over, around, up and down my stomach. She cups my breasts and squeezes my nipples with her thumbs and forefingers. I turn my head and nuzzle her neck. She tilts her head and captures my lips. I’m floating like lopsided, billowy bubbles children blow through wands. She turns me around. I slide my arms behind her back and draw her close. I kiss her cheeks, down one side of her neck and up the other side to her mouth. Our lips lock, and I slide my hand up the back of her neck to hold her there.

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Returning to my apartment, I ask him in for a nightcap. I pour Southern Comfort while he removes his coat and tie. We get comfy on the sofa and he lifts his glass.
“To the new graduate student.”
I toast but correct him that I’m not a graduate student.
“Yet,” he predicts. “You need to apply soon. I’m quite sure you’d be accepted into the Clinical program. I want to guarantee you’re close by.”
“Actually, I’ve already applied not only to Kansas, but also several other universities. I’m thinking maybe I should truly break away and move out-of-state.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asks, placing his arms at my waist and kissing me.
“Mmmm, it’s open for discussion,” I whisper, nestling into his chest.
Wasting no time, he lifts me onto his lap, his hands roaming from my hips to my bosom. “You have no idea how I’ve longed to touch you. Those goodbye kisses at your car have been driving me insane.”
“Me too,” is the only response I can muster.
That is the only encouragement he needs. Cradling me in his arms, he carries me to a bedroom, lays me on the bed, and turns on the bedside lamp.
“This is the guest room. My bed’s more comfortable.”
“Comfort is not my priority,” he gasps, sliding my straps over my shoulders and pulling down the front of my backless dress, exposing my naked tits. “I love a woman who knows how to dress…making it easy to undress. I’ll bet you love being naked, don’t you?”
I groan my answer as his tongue circles a nipple. An expert in his field, he reads me too well. I do love being naked. I adore how he examines each breast, caressing it with his fingers then massaging it in his hands.

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(Prequel Short Story to Playgirl)

“Then let’s do it, Sweetheart. I’m flicking you hard and fast now.”
“Yes, yes, oh God, yes!” I stop typing then and finish it off, my head resting against the back of the desk chair, my butt sliding to the edge, legs spread-eagle and my fingers dripping.
“You really did it, didn’t you? And it was good too, wasn’t it?” Brett wants to know, still pumping his meat.
“You know it! What now?”
“Now, I’m going to finger-fuck you. But first, I’m going to feed you some maraschino cherries.”
“Mm, I love cherries. They taste so good, Baby.”

“Then I’m going to slide one up and down your creases and marinate it in your juices.”

“Wow, that is so titillating—cold and smooth.”

“And then I’m going to eat it, before I dip another into your nectar. One for me, one for you.”

”Yummy!”
“You still playing with yourself, Jackie?”
But I’m in the kitchen looking for cherries. I find a jar in the back of the refrigerator with only three left. That’s enough.
“Jackie? Don’t tell me you got kicked off.”
“I’m here, Honey. Just getting cherries out of the fridge.”
This time he gives me a big belly laugh. “God, I love how real you make this! How I wish I could fuck you in the flesh.”
“Mm. Me too.”
“But for now, insert a cherry, Baby. Stick it inside, as far as your finger will reach. You like how that feels?”
“Yes! And it really is cold and smooth! It feels so different than anything I’ve felt inside me before.”
“Stick with me, Sweetheart. I’ll take you places you’ve never been.”

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(Short Story)

I turn away and open the door wide enough for her to enter. Facing the wall, I wait while she warms the bronzer rubbing her hands together. Slowly she begins to massage it into my skin, beginning at my waist and working her way upward. I’m surprised by the sensation of her touch as she kneads my muscles.

“Oh Ginger, you should be a massage therapist. That feels so good.” I relax more with each swirl of her hands.

“Actually, I’m enrolled in the school of massage.”

“Great! You’re wonderful already. I’d say you’re ready to graduate.”

“Thanks. I really enjoy it too. I love the feel of skin and muscles beneath my fingers.”

“Mm,” I moan, placing my hands against the wall for support, relishing every moment. I’m acutely aware that my boobs have swung forward, dangling freely.

“Most people tan nude. Do you wear your bottoms?

“Yeah, I want to see my progress. Gotta have something to compare it to, you know.”

“Cool. I think bikini lines can be so sexy—a piece of art if done right.”

“Oh, I agree.”

“Just your bottoms? Not the top?

“Right. I don’t want any strap lines. Besides, I love seeing the golden sun kissed skin on my breasts—even if it is pretend sun,” I laugh. “Do you tan nude?”

“No, I agree with you. I want to see my progress.”

“Top too?”

“Yes, but I tuck the straps inside the bra cups.”

“Oh, how clever.”

“May I sneak a peek?”

“What?” I tense, standing straight.

“I want to see your tan line. I’ll just pull down your bikini a little.”

“Oh, sure. Okay.” I relax into my previous stance.

It’s strange, being half-naked with a woman in this tight space. But it’s been so long since I’ve been naked with anyone; I’d probably feel strange with a man too.

Ginger slides her hands around to my navel, working her fingers in small circles. Then she slides her thumbs inside the band of my bikini pushing it down about an inch, lowering the suit all the way around. I can’t believe my reaction. My groin contracts, and the sensation tingles all the way down my inner thighs. There’s a butterfly in my pussy that won’t go away, no matter how hard I fight it.

“Mm … nice lines,” Ginger gushes, “and you take such good care of your skin. It’s so smooth and supple.”

“Th … anks,” I squeak. Can she tell I’m aroused?

She continues to massage me, concentrating on the newly revealed inch at the top of my bikini. She slithers her hands back to the front along my waist then enlarges her circular motions upward until she’s brushing against the underside of my breasts. A moan escapes from my throat as I press my body into her hands.