Strap-On Sex Is so Passe Aimee Nichols

Sabina was the girl who looked at me and decided I was the kind of challenge she wanted to take on.

We saw each other fairly frequently; she was a friend of my friend Lou, and so group drinking sessions tended to throw the two of us together. She was the kind of woman who generally had the entire room wanting, without even being conscious of it, to take her home and do very bad things both to and with her. Sure, she was beautiful— taller than average, deep olive skin, sparkling black-coffee eyes, and a head of thick, glossy corkscrew ringlets. Plus, she leaned towards the voluptuous side of curvy, with a glimpse of soft brown cleavage nearly always visible, and the kind of ass that made a girl want to grab it and take a bite. But it was more than physical beauty. She was one of those people who emanate sensuality and sexiness; never in a way that came across as deliberate, but enough that women would stare longingly from afar and men would trip over their feet walking past her en route to the bar.

I always assumed she was out of my league. In fact, I generally assume people are out of my league and figure if they want me they'll do something about it, which isn't exactly proactive but saves me the embarrassment of rejection. In Sabina's case, though, I assumed she knew everyone wanted her and that there wasn't any point in making myself stand out from the crowd. It wasn't so much a self-flagellating dose of the I'm-not-good-enough as it was an attempt to avoid pointless effort. Why waste time hitting on girls who were bound to be unresponsive when I could be focusing my energies on getting drunk, right?

It was an unseasonably balmy night in April—Melbourne's weather hadn't realized it was supposed to be autumn —when Lou organized another "drinks night." We met up in an intimate little bar in the depths of an alley in the CBD. It was a Friday night and I'd worked late, so I was the last to arrive. The others were obviously well past their first drinks already, and Sabina was the only one who didn't seem to be well down the road to tipsy. I gave everyone the usual greeting hug. I came to Sabina and paused. I'd never hugged her before—I didn't consider us that close—but since everyone else in the group was a good friend, everyone else had received a hug from me. I didn't want to seem rude by not hugging Sabina too.

Okay, so I wasn't entirely concerned with altruism and etiquette. I desperately wanted to touch Sabina, feel that soft warm body pressed up against mine. I have this thing, though, in that I'm terrified of getting found out when I fancy somebody. Completely irrationally, I worry that they'll be able to tell I'm interested if I touch them or stand too close to them, like I think my pheromones will give me away or something. And since I'm not the most socially or emotionally adept of people, you can see why that would cause me anxiety.

Sabina solved the problem for me by standing up and wrapping her arms around me. I returned the gesture and found myself involved in what I can only describe as a full-body hug; she pressed her body firmly against mine, our curves complementing each other, our breasts flattening to rest against each other. I had the interesting mental experience of simultaneously trying to enjoy the moment for what it was and take in everything so I could remember it later on, and desperately hoping that she couldn't tell I was enjoying the hug a little less platonically than I should have been. For the thousandth time in my life I was thankful I was not a man—only this time, rather than being grateful for not having to, you know, be a man, I was grateful that I didn't have a penis, because if I did it would have been making its presence felt against Sabina's lower belly, and that would have blown my cover. As it was, I felt myself discreetly moistening the crotch of my knickers.

She held on longer than she needed to, which was fine by me. I was trying to breathe deeply and quietly, partly because she'd brought on a major case of the butterflies and partly because she smelled so good and I wanted to savor her—the faintly chemical but pleasant odors of hair product and makeup mixed with the natural, vaguely musky smell of her skin. If she was wearing perfume, it was subtle and underscored her natural smell perfectly.

She pulled away, and I had to fight the urge to wrap my arms around her more tightly and not let go. She smiled at me as she sat down, her eyes twinkling. I retreated to the other side of the booth, taking a seat between Lou and Kelly, who rested her head on my shoulder.

The conversation was flowing as freely as the alcohol, and I took small but quick sips of my beer, unsure of where I wanted to be on the sobriety scale, not wanting to be the sole sober person at the table but not wanting to join in the drinking spree just yet. Sabina sipped a glass of white wine and sat back, taking in the conversation with the amused eyes of one who loves her friends but is well aware they can make complete idiots of themselves in public at times. The topic turned to the girl Lou had just started seeing a couple of weeks ago, whom none of us had met yet but who intrigued us, if only because she quite obviously made normally sedate and emotionally cautious Lou go weak at the knees. We started pumping her for information about this new woman.

"Does she have any really annoying personal habits?" asked Kelly.

"No!"

"That just means there're none you've found out about yet."

"Does she have good taste in music?" asked Sarah, the resident music snob.

"Yeah, if by that you mean, does she share my taste? We're aaaall about the acousticky lesbians, baby."

"I said good music, you walking cliché."

"And what might that be, Madame?" Kelly could obviously see where this was going as well as I could—any argument about music was never a good idea around Sarah, lovely as she was. Kelly leaned forward and said, "Look, Lou, I think what we all really want to know but are pretending we're too polite to ask is—what's she like in bed?"

Lou blushed, just slightly. "She's good." She paused. "Very good."

"DETAILS!"

"That would be tacky."

"Because we're none of us here tacky. Nooo, not at all."

I put my arm around Lou. I knew her well enough to sense that, despite her embarrassment, she did actually want to share with us, and was going to. You get used to reading someone after being friends with them for a while. In the case of my friends, I learn to tell when they really don't want to talk about their partners, and when they're being coy. Lou was being coy.

"Oh, I'm just not sure I should. What happens if one of you lets slip when you meet her?"

"So we're definitely going to meet her?" I butted in.

"I didn't say that... I just don't want her being uncomfortable that you guys know so much."

"I'm sure we all know how to keep our mouths shut, Louise," I said, doing my best fake stern voice. "Now spill."

"Okay. What do you want to know?"

"Everything!"

"Well..." Lou paused and took a swig of beer, considering what to tell us. "She's very skilled in bed. A great kisser. Wonderful with her hands. And she works a strap-on like nobody's business."

I'd been taking a sip of my drink, and nearly spat it out.

"She what?" I said. "You mean you actually do that? I thought one of the advantages of fucking girls was that you didn't have to put up with dicks in at least part of your life?"

Kelly turned to me. "That's a little bit retro, isn't it, Aim? You're always on about how important it is for people to express their sexuality however they need to."

"Yeah, but do we have to do that by aping heterosexual people?"

"Ooh, how very seventies of you. Perhaps we shouldn't be having sex at all, what with it being an expression of power over another person and all."

"That's not what I meant and you know it, Kelly."

The conversation was good-natured enough, but I was losing ground, and worse, starting to look like a bit of an idiot. In front of Sabina. I wished I'd kept my mouth shut.

"It just seems so...unoriginal. Boring. You know, half the time the first thing straight people ask when they find out I'm into girls is whether we all use dildos on each other. Because they can't possibly imagine sex being satisfying, or even 'real sex,' without a penis being involved somehow. And that's the whole porn thing happening as well, you know, boh, we're fucking each other with a strap-on while we wait for you to come to us with your big manly penis. Strap-on sex is passe. There's so much we can do to and with each other but there's so much focus on that now that even dykes are obsessed with it."

"So now you're the arbiter of what's passe? Ms Vans-sneakers-are-never-out-of-fashion?"

"Fuck off, Renee."

"Oh, come on. I'm just amused. You! Thinking stuff is passe! Who'd have thought?"

"Have you ever been fucked with a strap-on cock, Aim?"

The speaker was Kelly again, but I looked across the table and met Sabina's eye. She was watching me intently.

"No. But it hasn't really captured my imagination. It's a little too straight-guy fantasy, isn't it?"

Sabina spoke up. "Not at all. I don't think straight guys ever fantasize about real lesbians anyway. I think it gets less erotic for them when they realize they're not invited."

A laugh went up around the table, and I smiled gratefully at Sabina for diffusing the situation and making me feel a little less under fire. She smiled back, eyes twinkling.

"Maybe your problem with strap-on sex, Aimee, is that you haven't met the right girl to show you the ropes."

"Or the straps, as it were," Renee interjected.

"Yeah, maybe that's it!" said Lou, eager to see both that the situation was diffused and that we were off the topic of her suddenly controversial sex life, even if it wasn't her causing the controversy.

"What? Oh, come on." We weren't here to discuss my nonexistent sex life, especially not in front of Sabina. I was supposed to look mysterious and alluring in front of her, damn it.

The twinkle in Sabina's eyes set of a slight smirk on her lips, and she leaned forward over the table.

"I bet if you found the right person, someone who knew what she was doing, you might change your mind. Perhaps you just need someone to show you the way." Her eyes held mine in her magnetic gaze, which wasn't even broken by Kelly's snort of "Hang on, are we talking about fucking or religion here?"

"Yeah, maybe," I said, and looked away. I didn't want to look away, but I was getting rather uncomfortable with everyone else around, and didn't dare even hope that Sabina was saying what I thought she was saying.

The rest of the evening passed without controversy, and I managed to get slightly buzzed without tipping over the brink into outright drunkenness. The only other person who managed that, I noticed, was Sabina; Lou, Kelly, and Renee were all well and truly off their faces by the time it began to look as though the bar staff might want to kick us out.

We wandered out onto the footpath together. Kelly jumped into a cab to head off back to the Eastern Suburbs. Lou and Renee were sharing a ride to inner-city Prahran. Sabina had offered, since we lived two suburbs away from each other, to share a cab with me. We let Lou and Renee grab the next cab that came along, and waited a few minutes in companionable, if slightly nervous on my part, silence. Sabina noted a cab a few blocks away and stepped on the road to hail it. When she was satisfied she'd caught the drivers attention, she stepped back onto the footpath next to me. She looked me full in the face, her dark eyes questioning, and said, "I meant what I said before. About showing you the ropes. What do you say?"

I looked at her, shocked and thrilled and hardly able to believe what I was hearing. There was my chance right there.

I took it.

She was grasping my hand so tightly I wondered if she'd been waiting for this for as long as I had. At the front door, she fumbled with her keys, muttering "Shit!" as she accidentally dropped them back in her bag, without letting go of my hand. I was enjoying her grip and the faint coating of sweat developing between our palms too much to let go of her hand myself, and I certainly wasn't going anywhere.

She found the keys and managed to get the door unlocked, shooting me a look of pure triumph that made me giggle. I followed her down the hall as she switched on the lights and discarded her bag and jacket. Her house was one of those cute little single-story terraces so common to the inner suburbs, but she'd decorated it with an eclectic mix of classic furniture and art prints. I caught sight of the titles on her bookshelf and conjectured that she either lived alone or wasn't too worried about housemates "borrowing" her lesbian erotica.

Together in the lounge room, we paused and looked at each other. She ran a hand through her hair, her curls bobbing everywhere. Then she strode across the room and grabbed me, pulling me into her, crushing her breasts against mine in a more forcefully sexual echo of our earlier embrace.

And then she kissed me.

I've been a fan of the kiss for a long time. A good kiss has always had the power to send sparks of electricity straight to every erogenous zone in my body. Sabina's lips were soft but her mouth was insistent, hungry, and as her hands came up to grasp my face, her tongue invaded my mouth, twisting and exploring and making me unconsciously melt against her, lean my weight against her body, surrender to her will and the power of that tongue.

She broke away long enough to push me down on the couch and climbed on top of me. Her weight pinned me down into the plush comfort of the couch, her softness pressing into me. She tilted my face up, lying slightly sideways so that her breasts rested under my chin. She continued to kiss me and I kissed back, exploring her mouth as she was exploring mine, taking smug pleasure in the staccato moans of which she was obviously completely unconscious. I reached up and ran my hand over her breast, thrilling as I found her erect nipple. I slid the flat of my palm across the curving expanse of her breast, and then ran my fingernails over her nipple in a gentle scratching motion. She kissed me harder, and ran her hand up my shirt in response. My already aroused nipples got harder, anticipating her touch, and I wasn't disappointed. She grasped my left nipple between her thumb and forefinger and pinched. Hard. I gasped, and she broke our kiss to smile down at me, that knowing twinkle back in her eye.

I tugged at her shirt. "I have to see your breasts," I said, which surely has to be the smoothest line since "Come here often?" but I wasn't exactly at my most cerebral at that point. She obliged, tugging her shirt off and reaching around behind to undo her bra. I drank in the sight of her full, heavy breasts, then pulled her to me and took a nipple in my mouth, kneading the other breast with my hand and tweaking her nipple.

"Fair's fair," she said, yanking my shirt up. I sat up and pulled it over my head, then removed my own bra. She took a breast in each hand, kneading my plentiful flesh as I continued to suck her nipple. Shortly, her hands moved lower, exploring the plane of my stomach, gently running her fingertips over my skin, provoking it into gooseflesh. I couldn't help a quick intake of breath as she slid her hand under the waistband of my jeans. Her breasts pressed against my face as she leaned to follow her hand. I reveled in their size, their weight, and her softness, the smell of her now a thousand times more potent than it had been earlier in the night. I reached up and traced patterns across her skin, following the lead she had taken with my body. Her hand found the waistband of my knickers and kept going.

I tried to bite back the gasp that threatened to erupt from my throat as her questing fingers gently stroked my outer labia, then pushed between them, discovering my wetness. I gave an involuntary moan as she found my clit and stroked it in circles. She smiled down at me, smug. I slid my hand down her pants, and delighted in the forest of curls that greeted me. Further along I came to her own wetness, slick and welcoming, and my mouth watered at the thought of how she would taste. We lay, rubbing and exploring and teasing, and she bent down to kiss me, our mouths locked in a desperately passionate embrace. I paused only so that I could undo her pants and shuck them down around her thighs. The sight of her thick, lush pubic hair with her lips shyly poking out underneath, protected by her broad strong thighs, made me moan again. I put my hand back on her pussy and inserted two fingers inside her, slowly exploring her warmth. She tightened around me, and her exploration of me became more vigorous. I changed position slightly, so I could continue finger-fucking her and rub her clit with my thumb without causing wrist damage.

"That feels good," she said, staring into my eyes, pupils wide. Our faces were level and I could see myself reflected in the shiny darkness of her eyes. "That feels really good." I smiled at her and upped my efforts. Three fingers. Faster thumb action. We were silent, verbally, but our bodies spoke for us, unable to get enough of one another's skin. Still stimulating her with my hand, I kissed my way down her body and she undulated against me. I moved lower and lower down until eventually I tasted her.

She moaned something that sounded like "yeaaaaah," and suddenly her hand was on the back of my head, gently but firmly guiding me, my tongue on her clit, pubic hair against my face, and still plunging and gyrating my fingers inside her tight, wet cunt. She grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked, and it took all my self-control not to yelp and pull away. She started to pant and grind against me and I realized she was about to come. I allowed myself a brief moment of smugness—hey, I like to achieve worthwhile goals as much as the next girl—then took her hard little clit in my mouth, sucking it in like a delectable morsel. She continued to grind against me, and after a moment I went back to licking circles around her clit.

She let out a howl and came, drenching my hand and my chin. I got even more excited then, because to me, making a girl ejaculate is quite a compliment, in addition to being a cool feat in itself, and I kept licking her until she pushed me away, smiling.

"I get sensitive after amazing head, darling."

"I bet you say that to all the girls." What can I say, I'm a line machine. Thank god it didn't occur to me to ask if she came here often.

She laughed, and leaned over to lick her juices off my face. I licked back, which did nothing but spread them around more.

She moved off the couch, smiling at me as she absentmindedly licked the juice from around her mouth. "Stay here."

"Where are you going?"

She grinned, and this time the devilish twinkle had brought reinforcements.

"I'm going to get what I wanted to show you all along."

I waited, resisting the urge to see to my throbbing pussy myself, preferring instead to alternate between fantasizing about what had just been and what was yet to come.

A couple of minutes later I heard her padding back down the hall.

She entered the room complete with strap-on attached, the silicone cock standing proudly out from her groin. I gaped. I think up until then I'd not really believed that she was determined to set me straight, as it were, about the joys of being fucked by a hot girl with an ever-hard cock. Strangely enough, I suddenly found myself very eager to learn whatever lesson Sabina thought fit to teach me. I sat up, the better to take her in. She stood still in the doorway, naked flesh luminous, curve running into curve running into curve. The sturdy leather harness hugged low on her hips and clung tightly to the tops of her thighs. The royal blue dildo was short and thick and more realistically designed than I'd been expecting to see; it had a slight upward curve and a believable head. I was surprised by her choice of dildo, actually; she didn't look like the sort of girl who'd have a short, fat little cock. I'd imagined her (yes, I'd imagined her and her kit, I admit it, when the conversation at the bar had started to lull) as having a longer, thinner cock, possibly in a lovely shade of lesbian lavender. I know. I'm all cliché, all the time.

"You like?"

"Yes," I breathed. Then I found my voice and, with more bravado than I actually felt, given that I was about to take part in a sex act that up until a couple of hours ago I hadn't believed anyone actually did, and one that I certainly thought I'd never do, said, "Why don't you come over here and show me what you do with it?"

She strode over and stepped up onto the couch, standing over me so that I could see her pussy lips pouting out from between the leather straps that went around each leg. Her cock loomed over me, ready and insistent. She got down on her knees, a leg on either side of me. I shuffled up onto my elbows and returned her gaze as she stared at me.

"Stay there, sweetie." Her mouth twisted in a wry smile. "I'm going to come to you."

"It's like Sabina's Mobile Cock Service."

"Exactly."

She grasped my legs and pulled them up, moving them so one was on either side of her. She shuffled closer to me on her knees. Staring at me intently, she rolled a condom over the shaft of the dildo, and then opened the little bottle of lube she'd brought with her and squeezed a dollop into her hand, rubbing it over the dildo as though she were

masturbating. She leaned over me.

"Are you ready?"

I wasn't exactly sure if I was, but I said "yes." She seemed to sense my hesitance, and leaned forward more until she was leaning over me, and when her lips met mine she kissed me deeply and passionately. I felt my head begin to swim—the dildo was prodding my lower stomach, and the smell of her filled my nostrils, musky and warm and exciting.

She broke the kiss and moved back, trailing her fingers down my chest, pausing to tweak my nipples, which immediately stood even further to attention.

She brought her body down so that she was almost on top of me, and supported her weight with one arm as the other reached down to grasp her cock. I braced myself for the penetration. I wasn't sure why I was so nervous—it's not like I haven't slept with men before, so a cock was not an entirely alien thing—but I started to relax when I felt the dildo nudging against my pussy lips. She found my clit and rubbed the head against it, with the right pressure and movement to make me gasp. I unconsciously tilted my pelvis up to meet her ministrations, and was rewarded with a cocked eyebrow that was offset by the warmth in her smile.

"How are you liking it so far?"

"It's...great," I managed. My pussy was responding to the ministrations of her cock and my powers of thought were starting to retreat, sensing defeat. I could feel myself begin to clench as my clitoris responded more and more to the pressure of her cock. Her breasts hung in front of me, round and full, and she was beginning to sweat slightly. I reached up and took a breast in each hand, squeezing her nipples gently between my thumbs and forefingers. She moaned.

"I want to be inside you."

My pussy responded before my brain had even processed what she said.

"Yes," I finally managed.

She eased herself into me. I felt the pressure and strange sense of being filled. The cock felt thicker than I'd thought, and I could feel it push against the walls of my cunt, questing deeper inside me. She pushed further in, until I felt the pressure of her leather-clad pelvis against me and knew she was in all the way. We held the position for a moment, then slowly she began to withdraw. I caught myself whimpering, again completely unconsciously. She laughed, sweetly but with the slight edge of one who's definitely won the sex war and is preparing to take all spoils.

She began to thrust, slowly, insistently, testing my responses. I began to move against her, thrusting in my own rhythm, which melded with hers until we were in synchronicity, both of us covered in a light sheen of sweat. The dildo felt thick and warm and firm inside me, contrasting with the softness of Sabina's body. I wrapped my legs around her and we fucked like that for a while, kissing each other at random moments, my hands exploring the smooth expanse of her back, occasionally moving around to stroke her breasts again.

Eventually she pulled back slightly and looked me in the eye.

"Do you want to touch yourself?"

I could feel every nerve ending in my cunt and clit screaming for release. I managed a raspy "yes," and she smiled. Then she moved back a bit, enough so that I could reach my hand down between us and find my clit. It responded immediately to the slight pressure of my finger. I began to rub myself, and she resumed thrusting. I felt my orgasm begin to build, a gradual pressure in my nerves that made my cunt clamp down on the dildo and hold it tight as Sabina continued to thrust.

I felt the low moan of orgasm begin deep down in the back of my throat as the delirious pressure in my clit continued to grow. I rubbed faster, wanting the release, needing it, hungering for it as though starved.

I came with a moan that transformed into a howl, squeezing my legs and bringing Sabina in closer to me, the orgasm exploding into a thousand fragments in my clit and in my cunt, moving down my legs and up my body, forcing me to shake uncontrollably.

Afterwards I lay still. Sabina lay on top of me, our skin warm against each other, breasts and bellies meeting agreeably, our combined softness intermingling. We were still and silent for several minutes. I wrapped my arms around her, not wanting to let her go, thinking I didn't want this to end here. I didn't want this to be the only lesson she taught me. She burrowed against me, voluptuously warm, her cock still inside me.

I didn't want her to pull out; I wanted us, in this moment, to be joined for as long as we could be.

Eventually, though, she moved, leaning up and pulling out, unbuckling herself out of the harness and discarding it before lying down next to me again and taking me in her arms.

"Did you like that?"

"What sort of a question is that?"

She laughed. "Yeah, I know. Sometimes I like to state the obvious. Or ask the obvious, as the case may be."

"It was great. You're wonderful."

She grinned at me, and mimed tipping a hat. "Why, thank you, ma'am. You're not so bad yourself."

We held each other for a while without speaking, our skin cooling slightly, our sweat drying. She held me close.

I'm not the type of girl to start demanding exclusivity and all that jazz after one sexual encounter, but I couldn't help thinking about how long I'd been lusting after Sabina, how much I'd wanted her, and how much it felt like an amazing stroke of luck that we'd finally gotten together. I wasn't entirely sure what I wanted at that moment, except that I knew I didn't want to get off that couch and out of Sabina's arms any time soon.

"Sabina?"

"Yes, Aimee dear?"

"What else do you have to show me?"

She laughed, and kissed me.