A SUICIDE GIRL DOUBLE EXTRAVAGANZA! Rebecca is a tattooed college girl who attends a late-night study session. After chatting with her fellow dormitory co-eds, a mysterious new student enters the common area with a punk attitude. Rebecca has never loved a Suicide Girl, but that’s about to change. What will happen when these two tattooed beauties duck into the lavatory and lock the door?
Print Length: 26 pages
Type: Standalone Story (For Men & Women)
Price: $2.99
I attended a late-night study session turned pajama party in our dormitory common area. Giggling college girls dressed in oversized pajamas and fuzzy socks lounged on plush blankets and cushions, with textbooks and laptops scattered among half-eaten bowls of popcorn, scented candles, and mugs of mulled wine. Amid snickers and whispered conversations, the girls focused on notes and highlighted passages, exchanging study tips and offering encouragement for the upcoming finals. The sorority girls giggled with clueless glee, but I was different.
My platinum-white hair tumbled in tousled waves around my shoulders, framing my face. Cerulean eyes, lined with smoky eyeliner, sparkled with defiance. My crimson lips parted in a smirk, daring anyone to mess with me. Several tattoos covered my body: a fierce butterfly poised on my wrist, flowing script swathed my neck, and various skulls, spiderwebs, and religious symbols dotted my body. Each marking told a tale of liberty. Silver hoops glimmered from my ears, and a stud gleamed at my brow. A black tank top clung to my body, paired with ripped fishnets, a jean skirt, and scuffed boots, exuding unapologetic grit. Each detail was a defiant stance against convention and conformity.
“Aren’t Suicide Girls kinky or something?” asked the sorority girl to my left. A circle of five surrounded me, half-naked, wearing only socks and nighties. Our college instructor gave us two weeks to write something from our experiences, a personal essay or short story, that reflected our identity. Our group brainstormed ideas for that final project.
Because of my rebellious streak, I wanted to write an essay that would shock our handsome professor, “David”—we weren’t allowed to call him “Mr. Gramm.” Over the past few weeks, I had read stories by literary legends: Anne Sexton, Sylvia Plath, and Kathy Acker. Their candidness was infectious, and I wanted to channel their energy.
“So… suicide chicks. Is it true? What are they into?” the girl sitting to my right asked.
I laughed as I surveyed the suburban girls around me. They were precious, innocent with open eyes and curious minds. They wanted to know more about my wild side. I answered, “Kinky? Maybe. Tattooed and pierced? Yes. Some post nude photos online.”
“Oh, really… like internet models?” the cute one in front of me asked in awe.
“Yeah, they’re like those chicks on Anyfans. They charge money for cooking pictures—anything,” I answered.
“It’s not,” I said. “Suicide Girls love sexuality. If you find one in the wild, watch out. Most people think of us as ‘tarty.’”
Liz, the youngest of the group—harmless and a bit dim—asked, “What does ‘tarty’ mean? Like a dessert?”
Laughter erupted from the group as I explained, “Exactly. Liz, sometimes people call women ‘tarts?’ It means ‘slutty.’”
“Oh,” she said. “Like those movie stars who sleep around?”
Before I could respond, something caught my attention—that new student I noticed at the library days ago. She was descending the stairs, and her tattoos and rough look immediately intrigued me. She hit the bottom stair with a confident bounce. Her breasts and ass jiggled as she pivoted toward our group, and her eyes fixed on me. The mysterious newcomer strutted around the room, looking for a sitting place. With panther-like grace, her steps exuded power and allure. The sorority girls became aloof—perhaps even afraid of her. The stranger nodded while strolling through the room, fully aware of the awe she inspired in the other girls.
The newcomer stopped before me, assessed the circle, and said, “May I join you?” Her black lips articulated the words with a racy edge.
If you’re craving more seductive lipstick lesbian stories, sink your teeth into Lipstick Lesbian Vampire Tales for a thrilling blend of passion and the paranormal. Prefer a print collection? Hold the desire in your hands with Lipstick Lesbian Tales: The Collection.
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