NSFW Lesbosexy Sunday Is A One-Handed Read

Feature image of CrashPad Episode 214: Daisy Ducati & Jessica Creepshow.

All of the photographs on NSFW Sundays are taken from various tumblrs and do not belong to us. All are linked and credited to the best of our abilities in hopes of attracting more traffic to the tumblrs and photographers who have blessed us with this imagery. The inclusion of a photograph here should not be interpreted as an assertion of the model’s gender identity or sexual orientation. If there is a photo included here that belongs to you and you want it removed, please email bren [at] autostraddle dot com and it will be removed promptly, no questions asked.


Welcome to NSFW Sunday! I’m on a queer mountain right now and have no idea what’s going on this week in the world of lesbian and queer sex news, so please enjoy these queer erotica story excerpts (and the volumes they came from) instead. (Also check out our past A-Camp NSFW coverage, like this gallery of girls outside.)

msrubyvixen + leigh.crow via rodeoh

msrubyvixen + leigh.crow via rodeoh

+ From “Mirror, Mirror” by Frankie Grayson in Best Lesbian Erotica, 20th Anniversary Edition, edited by Sacchi Green

“When she shut her front door behind us we fell against it together, no cues needed, to bite and lick the other’s kiss, hands already everywhere. She worked so far under my dress to squeeze my ass, my shirt bunched around my hips. I pushed her jacket off and she ordered, ‘Bedroom.’ […] I undid her pants and she stepped out of them, leaving her in just her button-up with those miles of smooth leg beneath. She sat on the bed, pulling me to stand in front of her and sliding my dress from my shoulders, revealing my nonsensical bra. She cupped me, pressing the prickly-edged lace into my skin and running her thumbs over my silk-covered nipples before leaning in to nip them with her teeth. Wondering if she saw the goosebumps she conjured all over me, I slithered the rest of the dress down my hips, then shrugged my feet from my heels. I probably could have made a better show of taking them off, bending over to slowly unstrap them, but I was nearly shaking with hunger. I needed us both naked and grinding and coming. Now.”

Nida Thaingtham by Hana Haley for alexandreanissa

Nida Thaingtham by Hana Haley for alexandreanissa

+ From “The Perfect Gentleman” by Andrea Zanin in Take Me There: Trans and Genderqueer Erotica, edited by Tristan Taromino:

“My heart leapt in my chest and I kissed her back. Her lips were soft, aggressive, wet, hungry. I tasted herbal tea and a hint of raspberry pastry filling on her tongue, caught her bottom lip gently between my teeth and let it go, let the scent of her hair climb up my nose and into my brain, and all of a sudden I wasn’t thinking anymore and we were just kissing.

Eventually we dropped our jackets on the floor and out bodies greeted the complaining old mattress. She pulled me on top of her and my breasts, flattened under a tight sports bra, pressed into hers. I opened my mouth and said, ‘I’m not sure I know… I mean, I’ve never really been with… well…’

A frown creased her forehead. I was going in the wrong direction, I could tell. I took a deep breath and let it out.

‘Tell me what you like,’ I said simply, letting the end of the sentence trail upward, a soft question. Vulnerable. See me, I was thinking. I so very much want to do this right. I know how women like you have been treated. Just let me be different. I want to be the one-night stand you don’t regret. I want to be the perfect gentleman for you. That’s what you deserve.

And so she told me what she liked.”

Model Maxien Harman by photographer Laura Klein Nijenhuis

Model Maxien Harman by photographer Laura Klein Nijenhuis

+ From “In My Skin” by Beth Wylde in Best Lesbian Erotica 2015, edited by Laura Antoniou:

“Neither of us could be this close to the other and not touch. I wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly we were pressed against each other, her muscular physique dwarfing my smaller stature. Her lips crashed down on mine, and I groaned from the intensity.
There was nothing subtle or gentle about the kiss. She took what she wanted, plundering my mouth with a fierceness that made me dizzy. My lungs cried out for air, and I ignored the call for something even more important. At the moment, kissing Melissa seemed as necessary to my survival as breathing. Her mouth and tongue dominated mine. I had no choice but to submit and I did so willingly.”

+ From “The Straight Girl at the Dyke Bar” by Sinclair Sexsmith in Sweet & Rough: Sixteen Stories of Queer Smut, a collection by Sinclair Sexsmith

“”I thrust my hand between her legs. Her skirt is tight—I pull at it, shove it up her thighs to expose her, pull tight against the lacy fabric of her panties and press two fingers inside her. Smooth. She inhales, moans.

‘So wet,’ I say, mouth against her cheek. She keeps ahold of the edge with her hands, arms raised. My body is perpendicular to hers, cock against her hip. I work my fingers inside, slick and slow and deep, thumb on her clit, on that spot below her clit, my hand gripping her pubic bone.

She moans, knees weakening, hips dipping down to take in more of me. I add a third finger. ‘You know how to get fucked, don’t you.’

Mouth gaping, she breathes heavily, turning her head and sucking on her lips. I can feel my fingers working a good spot inside her and she is increasingly sensitive, reactive to my pressing and curling, thumb flicking a little lighter and faster on her clit. Her thighs shake and she lifts one leg off the ground, bends her knee, presses her legs apart and against me, body shaking against me, until she gasps hard and I feel the ring of muscles inside her grip my fingers, hard, her clit fat and sensitive and pressing against my thumb, throbbing, until she shudders, bucks her hips, begins to lose her balance and leans against me, gasping, little moans coming from her throat.

She looks up at me, winds her arms around my neck. “I don’t usually come so fast,” she says, a little apologetically.”

via CrashPad Series episode 151, with Hayley Fingersmith and Sugar Blair

via CrashPad Series episode 151, with Hayley Fingersmith and Sugar Blair

+ From “Paradise” by Valerie Alexander in When She Was Good: Best Lesbian Erotica, edited by Tristan Taormino:

“Around four we were wet and serious and naked on the floor. She wrapped her legs around my face, grinding her wetness against my mouth. My tongue writhed inside her like a snake, making her come until she rolled moaning onto her side, holding her sides as if she hurt. But then she pinned me against the carpet and fucked me slowly and deliriously over and over, the strap-on between her legs so big I felt stretched impossibly wide. With each thrust of her cock, the floor burned my tailbone until the pain and the heat were one. My cunt was incandescent, every nerve ending alight with fire where she touched me, until I rolled her over and rode her hard, stoking that fire up into a blaze of wet and throbbing glory. We were wet with sweat when I collapsed on her, and we kissed over and over until daybreak showed through the windows.”

Carolyn Yates is the NSFW Consultant, and was formerly the NSFW Editor (2013–2018) and Literary Editor, for Autostraddle.com. Her writing has appeared in Nylon, Refinery29, The Toast, Bitch, Xtra!, Jezebel, and elsewhere. She recently moved to Los Angeles from Montreal. Find her on twitter.

Carolyn has written 920 articles for us.

13 Comments

  1. Okay but that first author needed a beta reader. Why is her dress slithering? Is it made of snakes? What’s so nonsensical about her bra? Is it also made of snakes??

    But most egregious is “the other.” The other what? Other woman? Other being? Is the person she’s fucking made of snakes too???

    • Same here. Especially in fan fiction and especially when it’s written from the perspective of the person I’d rather be with than be. I don’t know if this makes sense to you at all. Anyway, just wanted to say: I get it.

    • Agreed. It feels overly personal to me, less like I’m reading a sexy story about fictional characters and more like a stranger is recounting tales from their actual sex life or dirty-talking me about their fantasies. I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who enjoy that vibe, but it’s just not my bag.

      (Also I much prefer third person narration in general, but ESPECIALLY in the case of smut fiction.)

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