I couldn’t stop. Once we started, I just couldn’t stop. And I didn’t tell Tim. I tried, a few times, after one of our quick and fumbling encounters in the back of his Firebird, to tell him about the sweet and magical and amazing thing I’d discovered with Sarah. I loved Tim—he was kind and thoughtful and he tried very hard to please me—but we’d been having sex for over a year and I still hadn’t once had an orgasm in his presence.

Since my relationship with Sarah began, I’d asked myself more than once if I might be gay instead of just bi… but my love for a hard cock and, more importantly, men, simply made that impossible. Still, I didn’t think of my relationship with Sarah as “cheating” on Tim. How could he possibly compete? It was like apples and oranges. Where he was hard, she was soft—there was just no comparison to be made. They gave me such different things. 

But I admit, it became problematic. Sarah wanted more and more of me, and I wanted to give her what she wanted. I couldn’t seem to say no to her, and all of a sudden I found myself doing and saying things I’d never imagined myself doing or saying.

Like the time we spent all day sunbathing on her apartment roof. I say we, but it was really Sarah who was slowly turning a beautiful golden brown. I was slathered with sunscreen and sitting under an umbrella, my pale skin too sensitive to ever tan. Then we reclined in the hot August night, talking for hours, and we made love so long and so hard neither of us cared when it started to rain and our moans were drowned out by the sound of storm. I couldn’t get enough of her, or she of me. I’d never had anything or anyone like Sarah before. The whole thing was intoxicating.

She asked me about my fantasies. No one had ever asked me that, and I actually told her… although I later discovered the intensity and risk of my fantasies were a playful and innocent kitten to her sleek and stalking panther! She indulged my desires… to dress her up, like a living Barbie doll, in garter belts (oh, my fascination with straps!) and stockings, tight-cinched corsets and even crotchless panties. (The trip to the local “Lover’s Lane” for those started with a giggling girls shopping trip, but ended much more seriously with my tongue exploring her for hours past those ever dampening lacy edges.) And then, eventually, she asked me to indulge her fantasies. 

How could I say no?

It was almost a month before Sarah opened her toy chest and let me explore a side of my sexuality I wasn’t even aware existed. A month of slow exploration, of long days at work where I was afraid the sexual tension between us could be felt by everyone, and nights where I began to vocalize, moving from tiny kitten mews to shameless cries of pleasure. I was lost, and I was trying hard to keep up the pretenses with everyone—Tim, my mom, getting ready for college in the fall—but I really had abandoned them all for Sarah.

We spent part of one memorable night in the coffeehouse, where Sarah was reading some of her erotic poetry for open-mic night—and I couldn’t help but squirm a little in my seat when she read the one about our first time together. I just hoped it was dark enough no one saw the slow heat spreading across my cheeks and down my chest and belly. I don’t think I’d ever wanted her more—except maybe the first time we’d been together. Her poetry made the audience breathless.

I saw an older man near me surreptitiously rubbing himself through his jeans under the table. That made me even wetter, knowing he wanted her, that even in the dimness I could see the outline of his cock and knew how much he wanted to slide it into the sweetness which would be flooding all over my tongue in the space of an hour. I couldn’t believe how exciting it was to see her being desired and knowing she was mine. 

I was fantasizing about what Sarah and I were going to do together later when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the coffeehouse door open. I wouldn’t have even glanced away from Sarah except something about the figure filling the doorway was familiar, even in the shadows. I let my eyes leave the stage for a moment, ready to dismiss my suspicion, only to have it confirmed—in my body first, with a quick jolt, and then my brain. I recognized David’s strong jaw and big shoulders as he moved through the tables. 

I felt frozen, like a rabbit caught in the farmer’s garden. My first inclination was to sink down in my seat, become invisible, but I knew it was impossible. The place wasn’t crowded enough for me to disappear. And David had spotted me. He threaded his way through the tables, his eyes fixed on mine, and I had nowhere to go. I should have lifted my hand in a wave, just acted casual, but something in me wouldn’t allow it. 

“Sorry I’m late.” David slid into the chair next to mine, shrugging off his soft-looking brown leather jacket. I just stared. Was I supposed to be expecting him?

Sarah’s voice was like liquid heat, drawing the attention of everyone in the room, and David was no exception. His gaze swept over her, the knee-high boots and short gray skirt, her white blouse parted into a deep V, purposefully revealing the top of her black lace bra underneath. Her hair was pulled up in a sexy-messy pile on top of her head. She was breathtaking, and the heat in David’s eyes reflected her beauty. And she spoke the words of her poetry thick and sexy, dripping honey:

“Can’t give a starvin’ girl
raw meat right away—
not when she’s been pickin’ bones.

Hungry baby bird mouth,
greedy cluck and crow,
don’t mean she’s ready.

Easy does it baby morsels,
tender bitty nibbles,
a slow and sticky suck.

Girl thinks she knows—
she wants it now.
You know better.

Catch her up and give her
one mouthful at a time,

until her dog-hungry belly
and rattle-boned body
can meet that appetite—

then, you can feed her craving,
and let that laid-away
trickling of your love
now flood her eager mouth.”

Sarah’s voice faded to a full round of applause. I curled my thumb and finger between my lips and whistled, earning a flush and a wink from Sarah as she folded her notebook, took a brief bow, and slipped off the stage. David stood as she approached our table, holding out a chair next to him for her. 

“That was amazing.” He leaned over the table to give her the compliment as she ignored the chair he’d pulled out for her and slid into the one next to me. “I’m sorry I was late—I would have liked to hear more.” 

I looked quizzically at Sarah, and her hand squeezing my thigh reassured me. “I could have killed Don for making that announcement at the office. Like I want all of my employees to know I write poetry?”

“Erotic poetry at that,” I offered with an evil grin. Sarah shot me a withering look and I stuck my tongue out at her.

David shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Are you ashamed of it?”

Sarah raised an eyebrow in his direction before her eyes wandered toward the counter. “No, I’m not ashamed. But we’re talking about a power differential I didn’t particularly want to… exploit.” 

“Exploit?” David cleared his throat and I could tell he was trying not to smile. “And so because I work for you, I’m… what…? Inferior to you?”

“Not the word I’d choose.” Sarah shrugged, her eyes meeting his gaze again. “But in this particular situation, you do just happen to be… below me.” 

“I don’t mind a woman on top.” He crossed his arms and tilted his head at her, that smile still playing around his lips.

“I bet,” Sarah replied with a smirk, rolling her eyes at me. There was some communication going on between them I couldn’t quite catch and didn’t understand.

David laughed then, a genuine laugh, shaking his head at her. He looked over at me then and winked. “Just because someone isn’t in the driver’s seat doesn’t mean they don’t have a license to drive.”

Sarah turned to me, casual-like, and asked, “How many hours did you have to drive on your permit before they gave you your license, Lizzie?”

I blinked at her, then at him. “Are… are we still talking in metaphor?”

David laughed again, nudging me under the table with his knee. He leaned in, as if to reassure me, and said, “I’ve been driving a very long time.”

Sarah’s hand on my thigh tightened as she looked at David and said, “I’m dying for a drink after all that reading. David, would you mind getting me a diet Coke?”

“Sure.” He stood, his eyes still warm. But there was always a light in them when he looked at Sarah. For the longest time, I thought it was something akin to worship, but now I realized it was hunger. He wanted her, almost as much as I did. Maybe more. He didn’t look at me the same way at all. “Lizzie, do you want anything?”

I shook my head and he moved between the tables toward the counter.

“You’re so mean,” I whispered, turning to face Sarah. 

She smiled, sliding her hand further up my leg, inching my skirt up. “Gotta do what you’re good at.”

I glanced back, making sure David was distracted, and then leaned in to whisper, “You’re also incredibly sexy.”

She grinned. “Gotta…” 

I broke her words with a kiss. I’d been dying to kiss her all night, especially after hearing her recite her poetry, every word dripping sex. It dripped from her tongue like honey, hot and sticky and so sweet it made you ache.

“What if David sees us?” Sarah gasped, pushing me away a little—just a little.

“So what if he does?” I grinned, glancing over my shoulder again. He was talking to the barista, leaning on the counter, his foot up on the stool. He looked incredibly sexy, and a wicked thought came into my head and popped out of my mouth before I could even think about it. “Why don’t we invite him back to your place?”

Sarah’s eyes widened—I was sure, for a moment, I saw real fear in them, but they turned teasing almost immediately, and so did her tone. “Oh no, you don’t!”

“Why not?” I teased back, leaning in to nuzzle her ear, whispering, “Wouldn’t it be hot? You and me pressing up against him…”

“A him, maybe,” Sarah agreed, her hand sliding further up my thigh—it couldn’t go much further, wedged like it was in the crease like that. The thought of being with Sarah and a man had my pussy throbbing with lust. “That him? Out of the question.”

“You know how I love a challenge,” I whispered, nibbling on her earlobe, feeling her shiver. God, I loved making her shiver. “How fast can I turn maybe into yes?”

“Not tonight.” Sarah’s finger nudged the elastic band of my panty leg aside, searching through the soft, red plethora of pubic hair, looking for wetness.

“Why not?” I asked, distracted now by her fingers as they parted my pussy lips under the cover of the table, the darkness making me feel bolder as I spread my legs wider for her.

“Because tonight, you’re mine,” she insisted, sliding a finger inside of me, making me moan against her neck. “Come on, Lizzie. Let’s get out of here.”

“But David—” I started to glance over my shoulder again, and Sarah’s other hand slipped behind my hair, pulling me in with her palm curled around the nape of my neck, and kissed me—hard. 

“Forget about him.”

I blinked in surprise as she stood, rubbing her wet fingers—wet with my juices—against my lips. “Him… who?”

---

She had her hand up my skirt again while she drove us back to her apartment, tugging at my panties and rubbing the moist fabric. She would periodically lift her fingers to my mouth to let me suck them. It reminded me of the dizzying taste and feel of her sex, and I moaned and squeezed my legs together around her hand. I don’t know how we made it back without getting into an accident. 

It was that night that she opened the chest. She was watching me undress, lying naked already on her bed, when she said, “Lizzie, I have to show you something.” I stopped mid-button, curious. “Close your eyes.”

I obliged, standing at the end of the bed in nothing but my blue chambray shirt which was unbuttoned to my navel. She slipped a hand under my shirt and cupped my breast as she passed me, thumbing my nipple, and I shivered, feeling it harden immediately. I heard her fumbling around in the room, the air shifting as she walked past me to the far wall—a click, a deep creaking, the sound of Sarah kneeling. 

“Open your eyes.” She was on her knees next to an open wooden chest, her legs slightly open, her hands resting on her thighs. “My hope chest.” 

Her smile was mischievous and, indeed, hopeful. It looked exactly like an old hope chest, the kind my grandmother had passed on to my mother, but instead of knitted doilies and linen, this hope chest was full of prurience and supplication. I was transfixed by the contents, almost as if she’d opened a chest of gold. The scent of it alone was alluring, the heavy redolent smell of leather and something deeper, more fully and secretly human. 

I slowly sank to my knees beside her and we were motionless for a while, I don’t know how long, as I explored the contents with my eyes and she watched me. I felt her gaze on me, and realized I’d stopped breathing. I drew a deep and shaky breath and met her eyes. They were lustful and questioning and something else I’d never seen before and was a little afraid of. I told her so. 

“Sarah, I… I’m a little scared.”

She nodded. “Yes.” 

It wasn’t so much an acknowledgement of my fear as an affirmation. She wanted this. And there was a part of me that simply couldn’t tell her no. She reached into the box without a word and pulled out a black silk scarf. I’d never forget her slipping it over my eyes that first time, tying it behind my head. 

“Can you see? Be honest.” Her voice had changed completely. It held element of confidence I’d never heard before. It stopped my breath. I couldn’t speak. I just shook my head. 

“When I ask you a question, I want you to say, ‘Yes, Sarah,’ or ‘No, Sarah.’ Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Sarah.” It was easier than I thought it would be. 

“Can you see, Elizabeth?”

“No, Sarah.” 

“Good. Now stand up.” 

I struggled to my feet. It was strangely difficult without my sight. 

“Good girl… now take off your shirt.” 

I swallowed hard, managing the few remaining buttons, easing the shirt off my shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. I felt unbelievably exposed and crossed my arms over my breasts. I couldn’t see anything, but I could feel her disapproval. 

“Ah Lizzie, you should see yourself,” she breathed and I felt her fingers brush lightly over my thighs. Then her voice changed again. “Put your hands behind your back,” she commanded. I was more reluctant now, but I did it. 

“Spread your legs… further… good.” 

Her hands roughly massaged between my legs, and I felt a cold rush of air when she spread my lips wide for a moment. I wondered if she was inspecting me. That’s what it felt like as her hands ran over my body, a little roughly at times, pushing my foot out a little further, turning my shoulder, tilting my head with her hand. 

“Mm… yes…” she breathed, her face close to mine now. I felt the warmth of her and remembered how much I’d wanted her tonight. I still wanted her, but my desire seemed secondary to this new feeling in my belly. I had no idea what it was.

“Elizabeth, I don’t want you to move. Do you understand?” I nodded. I could tell she was waiting. “Elizabeth?” 

Then I remembered.

“Yes, Sarah.” I said hastily. The hard sting of her hand on my bottom brought tears to my eyes, more from surprise than pain, and I whimpered. 

“Don’t move.” I didn’t. She left the room, and still, I didn’t move. What was keeping me there? I wondered. I could walk away if I wanted to. Take off the blindfold, go lay on the bed, call Sarah back in, snuggle and make love and doze. I knew I could, and she would be okay with it. 

But this was appealing to me, even as it was strange and uncomfortable and a little humiliating. I could tell it excited her. I heard it in her voice, felt it in the new way she touched me. And I wanted more of that. So I stood still and I waited, legs spread, blindfolded, my hands behind my back.

My other senses seemed heightened without the use of my eyes. I heard her moving around in the other room, going through drawers. She came back in and I stiffened slightly, trying to control my movement, even my breathing. I smelled the sulfur of a match being lit, heard the sound of her shuffling through the chest and, in my mouth, tasted the lingering musk of myself licked from her fingers. I swallowed. 

“Find your way to the bed and lie down.” 

The sound of her voice startled me. I made my way slowly, my knees hitting the edge before I crawled onto the bed. 

“On your belly,” she instructed. 

On my stomach, the sheets cool under my skin, I was now very aware of the wet throbbing between my legs. Oh God, this was so exciting. I could almost feel her eyes on me. 

“Spread your legs.” 

I opened them. She knelt behind me, spreading my legs even wider with her knees. 

“Up.” She put her hand between my legs, cupping my sex and lifting slightly. I raised my bottom in the air, my breasts still pressing into the bed, the blindfold shifting slightly when I turned my head. I wanted her to touch me. I wanted her hands, her mouth, her soft, skilled tongue. My thighs trembled. 

“Touch yourself,” she said. 

I reached between my legs and slid my fingers through my wetness, immediately heading for my aching little clit. 

“Open yourself for me.” 

I whimpered, spreading my lips with my fingers. 

“Good girl.” I heard her breathe in deeply, inhaling me. “Your pussy is very swollen, Elizabeth… and you’re wet all over… do you feel that?” She rubbed wetness into my thighs. 

“Yes, Sarah.” 

“I think you might be enjoying this… are you enjoying this, Elizabeth?” 

“Yes, Sarah, oh yes.” I moaned, arching my back slightly. And it was true. I was beyond excited now. I was lost in some other world where lust was the only thing that existed. My want was enormous. 

“Good.” She suddenly seemed distracted. I used the muscles deep inside, squeezing, feeling the sensation in my throbbing clit. 

She chuckled. “Brat!” When I felt her hand sting my bottom again, I yelped. “Tempting me?” 

“Yes, Sarah.” I felt my cheeks flush. 

“Put your fingers in your pussy.” 

I probed higher, finding that entrance, opening it for a moment, knowing she was watching, and then slid my fingers in deep. I heard her sharp intake of breath. 

“Finger yourself.” 

I did. Slowly at first, remembering how it felt to have a cock inside, so much bigger, harder, filling me. My fingers always seemed so inadequate. But the motion, my fingers delving deep as I rocked, my thumb against my clit, made me moan and thrust harder. Sarah’s breath came faster. I wondered if she had her fingers in her own pussy and the thought spurred me on. 

“Stop!” 

I groaned, dropping my hand to the bed, my fingers soaking. I waited. The anticipation was exquisite. Finally, I felt her fingers parting me, exploring the fleshy folds, finding my clit for a moment and rubbing, then back to my slit again, slowly up and down. It drove me to distraction. 

“Your pussy is so beautiful,” she whispered. I felt her reverence. I nearly came the minute she leaned in and kissed my clit, sucking it gently into her mouth. Her tongue flickered over it for a moment, then slid up through the slippery folds to drink me in. I moaned softly, pressing back against her, and she steadied me with her hands on my hips. 

“I have a surprise for you,” she murmured, and I stiffened, unsure. “Relax.” She stroked my bottom and thighs. I felt myself open up a little more. She slid a finger inside of me, then two, pumping in and out at an easy pace. I was just catching her rhythm when she slid it into me… big and hard, so much less pliant than a real cock, absolutely filling me. 

“Oh my God!” I gasped. “Sarah!”

“Yes,” she murmured, easing it in deeper. “I’m going to fuck you.” 

That’s when I realized the hard cock inside of me was strapped around her waist. I felt her thighs against mine, her hands grabbing my hips. It was all the way inside me now, as deep as it could go, almost uncomfortably huge and a bit unforgiving. She shifted her weight and the cock inside of me pressed against the smooth wall of my pussy, making me arch my back to meet her movement. 

“Now tell me,” she demanded.

“Tell you…?” I was breathless, unable to focus.

“Tell me you want it.”

“Oh God, yes, Sarah! I want it!” 

“More?” She pressed in deeper, just when I thought it wasn’t possible. I bit my lip.

“Yes!” I hissed. She started easing away, taking the cock with her, and I panicked. “No, no, I want it, please, please!” 

“What do you want, Elizabeth? Ask for what you want.”

“I…” Now I was suddenly reticent, unable to say it. I whimpered. She pulled the cock further out, so just the tip rested at the entrance of my pussy. “No, please,” I whispered.

“Ask for what you want,” she repeated. 

The silence stretched, and I found myself humbled, afraid to say the words, afraid of the power of my appetite and what it might say about me if I spoke it out loud. Her fingers slowly eased their way up from the cock, spreading the wetness through the crack of my ass, probing a little there, and I shivered.

“Please…” I pleaded.

“Yes,” she said. “Ask for what you want.”

“Ohhh God…” I trembled, so hungry. Her weight shifted, and I felt the tip of that big, hard cock start to move. I arched my back instinctively to keep it there. “Oh Sarah, please, fuck me, fuck me!” I begged, unabashed now, all thought gone, consumed completely with a deep longing to be filled.

Her thrust was her response, and it drove me down onto the bed. She was fucking me, my Sarah, with an enormous cock between her soft, supple thighs. She reached underneath me, to steady me, maybe, or for leverage, and also, I discovered, to find my clit with her fingers. She rubbed with a steady motion as she pushed into me, over and over. My nipples were hard on the bed, rubbing as she rocked me. My hair hung in my face, covering the blindfold, which now seemed like a relief, an excuse to stay inwardly focused on the overwhelming sensation. 

“Tell me,” she said again, and this time I didn’t hesitate.

“Fuck me, Sarah! Fuck me hard!” My voice had changed, became someone else’s as I felt my climax building. I realized in a moment of panic that I’d never come with anything inside of me before. 

“Harder?” She pushed deep.

“Yes, yes, hard! Hard!” I gasped, feeling that deep tickle I knew meant I was only moments away from flooding all over that cock. 

“Come for me.” She rubbed faster, oh God, exactly there, exactly right, pressing in deep and staying there as she worked my clit. 

“Oooooh yes, Sarah, I’m coming!” I gasped, the muscles of my pussy clamping down on that hard cock, buried to the hilt, meeting hard resistance. I spread my legs wider, letting her hand rock me and take me there, wave after delicious wave making me buck and moan. 

She reached down further and cupped my mound, pressing, and I sighed, loving that she knew how good that felt, feeling my flesh pulse against her hand. She leaned back and slowly eased out of me. The difference was startling. 

“Elizabeth,” she whispered, and her voice sounded almost shaky. 

“Mmmm,” was my response, still lost. She reached behind my head and undid my blindfold. 

“Elizabeth, roll over,” she said. I did. “Open your eyes.”

And my first sight was Sarah, oh my God, between my legs, all blonde hair and golden skin, with that huge (black!) cock strapped across her crotch! She saw my reaction in my eyes and smiled. She made her way slowly up my body, until she was kneeling across my breasts, the cock resting there.

“You came so good,” she murmured, running her hand through my hair, brushing it away from my forehead, my cheeks. She took the cock in her hand, still wet with my juices, and rubbed it over my breasts, my nipples. Then she placed the tip of it on my lips. 

“Suck,” she instructed.

I took it, greedy, sucking my come off that massive black cock. She watched me, her eyes hungry. She pressed in further, further, until I nearly choked on the length as she watched it disappear into my mouth. Then she reached to her side and undid something, and the cock was gone. She moved further up, steadying herself on the headboard, spreading her thighs and moving her pussy directly over my mouth. 

My mouth was open, my tongue reaching in anticipation. Unexpectedly, she reached down and put her hand behind my neck, not so much settling herself onto my tongue as lifting my mouth to her pussy. I licked her eagerly, hungry and wanting to please her. She lifted up a little, so she was just out of my reach, my face already wet with her.

“Put your tongue out,” she demanded. I reached with my tongue. “Now… hold still.” 

“Yes, Sarah,” I said before reaching my tongue out again, and a brief, satisfied smile flickered on her face before getting lost in lip-biting pleasure as she used my stiff, still tongue to bring herself to climax, rocking back and forth on my face. “Oh God, oh fuck, Lizzie,” she moaned, and I nearly drowned in her juices when she came, shuddering and pressing me hard against her pussy. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” I murmured, rubbing my chin and cheeks over her wetness. 

“Don’t move,” she breathed. 

Even in this moment of complete abandon, she was still in control. She moved off of me, taking the cock with her. “Close your eyes,” she instructed. 

I did as I was told, still seeing her kneeling above me with that hard cock, feeling her moist flesh in my mouth, lost completely in who and what she’d become to me. I heard her doing something in the bathroom at the sink, then she came back into the room. More shuffling, the slow creak of the chest lid I would come to know so well my clit would throb in immediate Pavlovian response every time I heard it.

Then Sarah was back in bed, pulling me to her in the way we liked to lay, my head tucked in under her chin, resting on the softness of her breast. 

“Cold?” she asked. I shook my head. I couldn’t have been more warm, all over.

“Does your mother know about the collection you have in your hope chest?” I asked coyly. She chuckled.

“You haven’t seen the half of it, sweetie.” She kissed my forehead. “But you will.” I shivered, and not from cold.

“Sarah…” I said after a moment. “You do like men, yes?” We’d had this discussion before. She nodded, her eyes closed, already drifting. I stopped, unable to go further, unsure. 

She sensed it and opened her eyes. “Ask for what you want.”

I’d been thinking about the differences of being with Tim and Sarah, and I’d always thought I would be one of those women who just wouldn’t ever have an orgasm with a man. Maybe I was too inhibited with them, or maybe it was just that Tim was so inexperienced, and often too interested in his own pleasure to notice mine. 

But now, after this… 

“I’ve never come with a cock inside me before,” I confessed. 

Her eyebrow went up but she didn’t say anything. 

I flushed. “I liked it.” 

A small smile. Encouraged, I said, “I really liked it… but I don’t think I could do it without you.” 

Now both eyebrows were up and she was looking at me, bemused.

“Ask for what you want,” she said again, rubbing my jaw line with her finger. 

“I want to be with a man… with you,” I blurted, moving to tuck my head under her chin again, hiding. There were no words for a long time. Finally, I had to inquire, “Sarah?”

“Not Tim,” she said definitely.

“No!” I was horrified. “Someone else… I don’t know who…” 

Again, silence. I waited, hopeful.

“I can’t say no to you… and you know it,” she murmured, pulling me close. 

“Does that mean yes?”

She touched my lips with her fingertip and then kissed me. “Yes.” 

I spent the whole night with her that night, which I couldn’t often do, and we slept snuggled together until the first bit of light started seeping between her blinds. I woke up once in the middle of the night and found her sleeping curled on her side, her face soft and relaxed, and tried to imagine sharing her with a man. Yes, I wanted it. But I also knew that you had to be careful what you wished for.