«Black Beauty: My Insatiable Futa Lover» by Veronica Sloan

Amy's never kissed a girl before, she's never been taken laughing through the streets on a mad adventure, ridden a mechanical bull, or had ruby lips drink tequila from her bellybutton. Tonight, she'll experience all of that and more. Black, wild, and beautiful, Nia is everything that Amy is not. Literally! The girl with the caramel skin is an insatiable futanari, and she wants Amy bad. She'll give the shy girl a night she'll never forget, including a ride on the black beauty she keeps tucked inside her jeans!

This erotic futa tale is 13,000 words and recommended for adult readers.

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

The stairway to Nia's apartment was sandwiched between a shuttered drug store and a vitamin shop. The dirty steps were barely lit by a fluttering bulb and too recessed from the sidewalk to benefit from the shine of the streetlamps. Any other night, Amy would have speedwalked past the place with a thumping heart. Tonight, her thumping heart savored the dim alcove. She found herself standing on the first step, her back to the bannister. The wall behind her was plastered in old concert ads and graffiti, the stucco soaked by the capricious rain. “I need to catch my breath,” she said.

Nia stood below her on the pavement, looking up at her like a panther about to pounce. “Where is it?” she whispered. “I'll help you find it.” Slowly, her boot slid over Amy's step. 

Giggling, Amy retreated backwards, further into the alcove, onto the second step and one step closer to the door. “I…I don't like girls, you know.”

“No?” Nia said. She took another step, and Amy retreated higher. 

“No,” Amy breathed. She could not tear her gaze from the chocolate freckles on her cheeks. 

“So what do you want me to do?” Nia asked. She raised her caramel hand, and Amy laced her white fingers through it. Together, they ascended another step. 

“I want…”

“Tell me,” Nia begged her. 

“I want you to do what you want to do,” Amy said. 

Slowly, knowingly, Nia shook her head. They stepped up another step. “No,” she said. “You know exactly what I want to do. I want you to tell me what you're doing here.”

Amy pulled Nia up onto the last step with her. There was nothing left but the landing to Nia's apartment, the door, and the fluttering bulb above their heads. She leaned against the wall and Nia loomed over her–not so much taller but so very, very close. She filled Amy's vision: lustrous black hair and grinning, ruby lips, kind eyes and a strong, round nose. She brushed Amy's cheek with the back of her hand. “Are you drunk?”

“I don't think so,” Amy said quietly. “I danced it all out of my pores.”

“You're sweaty,” Nia said. Her voice dripped with excitement.

“Yes,” Amy breathed.