Hey! My second omnibus collection, Wilder West, is coming out on Friday!
(You can get order it now, however, on Stillpoint/Eros and Amazon.)
To celebrate, here’s a sneak peek; this one’s from one of my Juliet stories, Juliet Takes the Floor. It features poor Allison missing her first lover, her former teacher Ken, and her new lover, her BFF Jordan.
It’s around 2000 words, featuring a text conversation between Ken and Allison as well as phone sex between the two young women (they’re both bi, but still — girl-girl):
Ken: Allison?
Ken: Allison?
Allison: Hi
Ken: Sorry I couldn’t get back to you last night. I was in rehearsal.
Allison: Figured
Ken: You okay?
Allison: Yeah. Think I figured some stuff out.
Ken: Yes?
Allison: Yeah. 🙂
Allison: Ken?
Ken: Yes?
Allison: Do you know what my psych project is?
Ken: Nope
Allison: Threesome fantasies
Allison: You ever fantasize about a threesome, Ken?
Ken: Research?
Allison: Absolutely. 😀
Ken: Ah. So. Yes.
Allison: I see. And do you fantasize about being with a man and a woman or two men
Ken: No
Allison: I see. So you think about being with two women at once
Ken: Yes
Allison: Interesting. 🙂
Allison: Ken? Are you hard?
Ken: And humiliated. Thank you
Allison: You’re welcome, Ken. It’s an extremely common fantasy, you know. There’s no need to be embarrassed, young man.
Ken: I know.
Ken: I’ve been having threesome fantasies since before you were born, young lady.
Allison: Oh.
Allison: Had any recently? (she asked, strictly as a matter of research)
Ken: Good night, love of my life.
Allison: Good night, Ken. Oh. By the way, Jordan had this very funny idea involving her, you, me, and a bunch of whipped cream.
Ken: Good night. Fire of my loins.
Allison: Good night, Ken. 🙂
I had barely signed off with Ken when my phone started crooning a K-pop version of “My Girl,” the old Temptations song—Jordan had set it as my ring tone for her when we were in eighth grade.
God, how could I not have known?
“Hey, J!”
“Hey.” It sounded as if she were talking through a really thick muffler.
“Were are you? It sounds as if you’re in a closet.”
A pause. “I am.”
“Drunk?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Okay?”
“Love you.”
“Love you too. You okay, Jordan?”
“Fucked Beech.” She sounded suspiciously sniffly.
“You… Your roomie?” Jordan had sent me a couple of pics of her: classic beach blonde, long-legged. Tan. A nuclear engineering major, if that could be believed.
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Nice?”
“No.” Her voice thickened. “Actually, it sucked. I mean, it sucked ass. And she kinda freaked.”
“Oh, fuck, Jordan.”
“I mean, seemed like a good idea, you know?”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear. She’d only been gone from my bed for a couple of weeks. But still, she’s my bestie. “Yeah. I know.”
“Thought of you ‘n’ that redheaded bimbo ‘n’ thought, Shit, Beech’s cute, ‘n’ up for anything, ‘n’ Lizie’s over at her boyfriend’s, so…”
“Jordan,” I said, trying to keep my voice low and even. I was very glad that Franny was over in Jason’s room, though I knew that was going to mean another round of self-flagellation from my roommate. “Jordan, you know I didn’t do anything with Jeannie, right?”
“Whatever,” she mumbled miserably.
“Not whatever, Jordan, come on.” But that wasn’t the point. “So. Beech freaked?”
“Fuck. Yeah.” She groaned. “Were tribbing—“
“You on top.”
I could hear her grin even as I heard her sniffle. “Yeah. Me on top.” We had found that having Jordan grind her clit against mine, stradding my left leg with my right up between those wonderful tits of hers, could bring us both off together, which was kind of amazing. “Though, you know. Clothes on. Some.”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Dry humping, really. Shit. Haven’t done that in years.”
“Nice?”
“Yeah,” said Jordan, sniffling again. “Nice. Anyway, tribbing, me on top, and, um, yeah, and she’s lying there like a fucking blow-up doll while I’m grinding away, and yeah, nice, feeling good, getting close, and suddenly she’s, like, coming and she’s screaming and I’m still going, ‘cause I’m almost there, and I figure she’s feeling good, but she pushed me off and started shouting at me.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah. Screaming I was a dyke and shit.”
“Fuck.”
She was sobbing now.
“Jordan. I’m sorry.”
“For what? Sorry I fucked someone else? FUCK.” A loud clunk pushed my ear from the phone.
“Jordan? Okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Is she there?”
“Passed out on her bed.”
“And you’re in the closet?”
“Not any more, I guess.” She laughed moistly. “But yeah. Couldn’t look at her any more.”
“Oh, Jordan. I’m so sorry.”
“You should be.” I couldn’t tell whether she was teasing or being legitimately nasty; Jordan was capable of both, though usually she was only nasty if provoked. “Should be. You fucking ruined me, Alli. I mean, shit.”
Being the sober one in any conversation is no fun; being the sober one when your best friend and lover is imploding and you’re not completely sure that you understand why is so beyond not fun that the word fun shouldn’t even appear in the sentence. “Love you,” I said, because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Yeah, well, love you too. I mean, really. So, then, why does it feel like my whole life is going through a fucking blender?” Now the sobs were coming back.
“Because, I don’t know, Jordan, I mean I know what you mean, but…” I was beginning to tear up too. “Because we’re not exactly who we thought we were and that’s fucking scary?”
Jordan was silent. Silent for a while. Just at the moment where I was beginning to think she’d passed out on me, she whispered, “Yeah. Okay. That sounds about right.” A sniff. “Though having Beech screaming at me while I’m there just trying to get off sucked fucking ass too.”
“I bet.” I was now gladder than ever that I hadn’t let Jeannie the Junior lure me upstairs. Not because she would have freaked out on me, I knew she wouldn’t have, but because sex was also clearly very fucking scary and very fucking complicated, which was as close to profound as I could get in that moment. “You never did get off, huh?”
“No.” She sounded so thoroughly miserable that I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh, fine, laugh away, you bitch.”
“At least I’m not a stupid twat who could have your fabulous, sweet cunt rubbing against mine, those breast bouncing around my leg, and somehow leave you hanging!”
She groaned, and I knew that, miserable as she still was, I had a way to make her feel at least a little better. “No. You’d never do that.”
“Unh-uh. If I came and I couldn’t take any more of how fabulous you were making me feel, you know what I’d do?”
A sniff? Her breath catching? Another little sob? A hiccup? Couldn’t tell. But I would have bet every piece of winter clothing I had that she was beginning to touch herself. That those long nipples were stretching and those ruffled labia were beginning to spread beneath her fingers.
“Do you want to know, Jordan?”
“Fuck yes.” Her voice was breathy now—just like that—and it made me laugh again. “Fuck you. Tell me, Alli.”
“Oh, I won’t leave you hanging, baby.” I could feel my own middle warming. “I’d push you down on the bed. And I’d cover your body with mine and feel our nipples bounce together.”
A hiss.
“I’d kiss you. I miss kissing you.”
A whimper.
“I’d nibble my way down your throat and lick along your collarbone.” My free fingers slipped under my nightshirt and ran along my collarbone. “I’d pull at those fabulous nipples of yours. With my teeth.”
A groan.
“Then I’d roll you over. On your knees. So your skinny ass was up in the air.”
“Huh.”
My eyes closed, I ran my fingernails over my own nipples. “I’d kiss that sweet ass. One cheek. Then the other. And then…”
“Then?”
“Then…” I could see it. Could see her bent over in front of me. Open to me. I pinched at my nipple and hissed; Jordan answered me. “Then, I’d lick. Starting at your clit—“
She whimpered.
“—and licking up along you pussy. Sooo sweet.”
“Fuck, Alli…”
“Mmm.” I slid my hand away from my breast and under the bottom of my nightshirt. “And then—“
“Hnh…” Her voice quivered as it did when she was getting excited. Feeling orgasm coming. It was a sound that I’d quickly learned to recognize—quickly learned to love.
“—I’d lick all of the up to your ass. I’d run my tongue up one cheek—“
“Damn!”
“—and then the other. Did you know there’s a beauty mark on the inside of your left cheek?”
“Uh…” A gasp. “Uh-huh.”
“It’s so cute. I kept wanting to kiss it.”
Another whimper. A long one.
“I felt funny, though, ‘cause it was so close to your asshole.”
A full-on moan, and I can’t help answering it.
“Would you’ve liked that? Jordan? Me to kiss your asshole?”
“Aw, fuck, Alli!” I could actually hear the liquid movement of her fingers in and out and against her pussy. “Fuck yes!”
“Mmm,” I groaned. “Kiss it. Lick it. While my… fingers…”
“God… Alli…”
“…push into your pussy. So tight. So sweet.”
“Aw, FUCK, ALLI…!” Her breath was roaring through the phone—roaring through my blood. “MAKE ME… I’M…!”
“Come for me. Jordan. Come.”
And she did. Loudly sobbing. Calling my name.
Which made me come too. Not quite as loudly. But it was sweet, making love to her again. Even if it is over the phone.
After I beamed back into myself, I could hear her breath rasping slow and steady into the phone. I thought perhaps she had fallen asleep. I whispered, “Jordan.”
“Hey, Alli,” came back her low, immediate answer. “Thanks.”
I laughed. “Oh, hey, thank you. You got me off too, you know!”
“Glad.” She sounded relaxed now. Sleepy maybe and still drunk, but not sobbing.
“You do, you know. Have a little beauty mark. Right near your asshole.” I didn’t know why I was saying that to her.
“Huh. Yeah. Corey was always talking about it.” I could hear that she was actually smiling, which made me smile.
“Yeah. He would have had lots of chances to look at it.” Jordan had had a notorious on-going thing up in the tech booth with Big Corey, who’d run sound for our school’s shows. I could imagine Jordan, bent over the mixing board, both of them with their headsets on, him plowing into her from behind for hours. “Did you guys really do it while we were performing?”
“Oh, hell yeah. Never missed a cue, either, fucking-a right.” Her tone was proud, smirky, and nostalgic. “Anyway, reason he kept talking about that mole was just because he wanted to fuck my ass.”
“Did you?”
She snorted. “With that big ol’ thing? Fuck no! I may be a slut, but I’m not stupid!”
“Not a slut.”
“Yeah, I am, and proud of it.” She was quiet for a moment. “Or was, I guess.”
“Well, no one ever said you were stupid, anyway.”
“Except me. I mean, come on. If I’d known you could get me off like that over the fucking phone, why’d I ever have spent all those nights just texting you?”
“Because we didn’t know. And you were seeing lots of guys.”
“True. I sure can’t complain for lack of dick.”
“No.” I bit my lip, then shook my head. “Have you, you know, thought about hooking up with guys again?”
“Um. Yeah. Thought about it. But I didn’t…” It was weird to hear Jordan sounding timid. Uncertain. Her flare came back. “Anyway, you just want to pull me into bed with your old-fart boyfriend.”
“Jordan!” I was surprised by her suddenly shift. “I… I’d never…” But I wanted to. I’d been thinking about it since before Jordan had left, and my Psych project—my conversion with the professor—had only made the images clearer.
“Admit, come on, you just want to have both of us fucking you—“ Now she was sounding angry again.
“Jordan, come on!”
“Come on yourself, girl.” She gave a savage snort. “You telling me you wouldn’t like to have Ken fucking you and me sucking on your fucking tits?”
“Well… Of course I would, Jesus, Jordan!” Now she’d supplied me with yet another image that I knew would haunt me. Why was she…? “Jordan? Do you want to have a threesome with me and Ken?”
“Just ‘cause you’re in a fucking Psych class doesn’t make you a fucking shrink, okay?”
“Jordan—?”
“Good night, Alli.”
“Night, Jordan.” My head was spinning, as if I were the one sitting drunk in the closet. “I love you.”
Her tone softened again. “Love you too. Night.”
I’d love to know what you think!
The book’s available for preorder at Stillpoint/Eros and Amazon.
Remember the name K.D. West, because after reading the marvelous erotic stories in this bundle, you’ll be looking for more from this very talented writer! — Amazon Reviewer
A young woman flying to her new home city is met by both of her boyfriends… and they couldn’t be more pleased. A happily married couple discover that sometimes a touch of fantasy can make you even happier. A student convinces her former teacher and her best friend to give her a birthday present that none of them will ever forget.
Breathtakingly funny, heartrendingly human, and always as hot as Louisiana hot sauce, K.D. West’s stories explore the whole gamut of human love and sexuality.
This collection, the follow-up to Wild West, includes fourteen tales, from wild bachelor-party threesomes to True Love’s Kiss.
(Straight, gay, lesbian, bisexual, ménage à trois. M/F, F/F, M/M, M/M/F… just about every kink and every combination of two or three that you can imagine!)
K.D. West 