A Long List of Firsts: A Carlsbad Village Lesbian Romance

by Sabrina Kane

  Ainsley eased off the gas a bit.

  “When this one hits you, be sure to keep your eyes open, understand?” Rachel continued. The sound of her voice was helping push Ainsley closer and closer to the edge.

  Again Ainsley nodded.

  “Oh my god, baby, your clit is so big now!”

  This is insane!

  This was actually happening to her. She was being fucked while driving her car on a highway in broad daylight by a woman who wasn’t wearing any pants and whose taste was still in Ainsley’s mouth.

  “You’re so close, I can feel it, baby…”

  Ainsley let out a cry as Rachel increased the pressure on her clit.

  Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!

  “Keep your eyes open, baby…That’s it…Slow down some more…Just stay in this lane…Let that car merge in front of you…Slow down a little…Good girl…Stay in this—”

  Ainsley came undone letting out a lusty yell. It took all of her willpower to keep her eyes open as well as to not slam her right foot down on the accelerator as the climax tore through her.

  “Fuuuuuuuck!” she cried out, her hips bucking on the seat while her pussy convulsed, her inner walls quaking, her come positively streaming out of her now.

  Fortunately, Rachel let up on her now hyper-sensitive clit and instead palmed her pussy, slipping two fingers inside, Ainsley using the hand as a surface to grind against. The intensity of each wave of her orgasm kept her shouting and threatened, more than once, to make her close her eyes in abandonment to it. But though her entire body was shuddering and though it felt as if a continuous series of little bombs of pleasure were exploding in her core, she kept her eyes on the road, driving her super-expensive German sports car as if she was a little old lady on her way home from church.

  “You’re crazy,” she huffed out when it was all over, her cheeks numb. By then, they had reached their exit on the I-5, the relatively short trip from Solana Beach to Carlsbad just about done.

  “And you love it,” Rachel said. Her hand was still covering Ainsley’s sex which, though the full force of the orgasm had passed, was still experiencing latent microbursts of pleasure from time to time.

  Ainsley had no choice but to admit to herself that, yes, she did love it.

  ***

  A short time later, Ainsley was completely nude and bent over the arm of her couch while Rachel was doing what she promised Ainsley she wanted to do back in Solana Beach: pulling on her hair and fucking the shit out of her.

  Ainsley had had to show Rachel how to put on the harness and attach the dildo—in this case, the blue one. Ainsley actually had three strap-on options: a smaller one because some women could only handle so much; this slightly bigger blue one for those who wanted a bit more; and the large one, for those ladies who liked to go all out. All three vibrated and, in a nod to these modern times, the big one even had a rechargeable battery.

  Her personal preference, when she was the one being fucked, was always that large one. Rainbow-colored and with a bulbous head, it made her eyes roll back with how well it filled her and how deep it reached. But as this was Rachel’s first time strapping on a toy, Ainsley had considered it might be safer to go with the medium-sized one, just until her girlfriend got a feel for how to use it, which would come with time.

  Even with this smaller blue dildo, though, the novice Rachel was showing Ainsley just how quick a learner she was. Wearing the strap-on, Rachel fucked Ainsley aggressively, her thighs slapping against Ainsley’s ass, her hand wrapped in Ainsley’s ponytail, keeping her head pulled back, the pain adding to the pleasure.

  “You like getting fucked like this, baby?” Rachel asked.

  “Yes! Nnngh! Fuck yes!”

  “Are you going to fuck me hard after this, baby?”

  “So hard!” Ainsley growled, teetering closer to the point of no return.

  “And pull my hair?”

  “Yes! So fucking hard too!”

  “Yeah? Like this?” And Rachel yanked Ainsley’s hair some more and Ainsley’s insides melted some more.

  “Like that! Nnngh! So fucking hard!”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise! I’m going to fuck the shit out of you!”

  Ainsley’s eyes suddenly popped open.

  “Oh fuck!...Rachel! Oh fuck!”

  “Yeah? Come baby! Come for me!”

  And then…

  Ainsley’s vision got blurry and every muscle in her legs tensed up.

  “I’m coming!” she shouted, earning a harder yank on her hair from Rachel. “Oh my god, RACHEL!”

  All Ainsley could do was surrender to it, calling out unintelligible sounds as this latest orgasm took hold and made her feel as if she was made out of nothing but light and pleasure.

  “Don’t stop! Fucking don’t stop!”

  Rachel relentlessly continued her thrusting and with each outward motion, Ainsley felt her come spraying out, running down her thighs, while her pussy clenched and clenched, spasming delightfully.

  Finally, though, the sensations became too much.

  “Please, baby, stop! Stop!” Her pussy was so sensitive now, her clit so hyper-stimulated, that once the initial glorious waves of her orgasm had subsided, every move Rachel made with that vibrating dildo felt like she was being fucked with live wires in her passage.

  So Rachel gently pulled out and Ainsley slumped to her knees on the floor, resting her head on the arm of the couch. She was breathing hard and continuing to twitch from sudden, sneaky jolts leftover from her climax.

  “Fuck, Rachel,” she muttered. “What are you doing to me?”

  Chapter 29

  They did make it to bed by nine o’clock that night, as Rachel had promised.

  After a couple of hours of sex at Ainsley’s place, which included the surreal experience for Rachel of standing behind a woman and fucking her with a fake cock strapped to her pelvis, Ainsley had packed an overnight bag and they had adjourned to her house.

  They ordered in Chinese food and spent the night watching cheesy action movies—though as it turned out, the movies were on more for the background noise than anything. While they were playing, Rachel was on the sofa using her laptop to look up flights for a trip to Maine she was going to have to take this summer for one of her cousins’ wedding. She also spent some time answering emails from prospective clients who were looking to buy homes as well as uploading new photos from her photographer for one of her listings.

  Ainsley had been next to her, reviewing patient notes and also reading a medical paper related to whatever it was she was going to be doing tomorrow. Rachel, out of curiosity, had peeked at it at one point but didn’t understand a single word it said.

  It wasn’t until they were in bed, with Rachel enfolded in Ainsley’s big spoon, when Rachel realized how ordinary their night together had been. Having fulfilled their sexual needs earlier at Ainsley’s, tonight had simply been two women staying in, taking care of some things important to each of them and feeling satisfied just having the other one there with her.

  As she drifted off to sleep, feeling so safe wrapped up in Ainsley, Rachel smiled, realizing she wanted more nights like this. Many more.

  Ainsley was gone when Rachel woke up but she had left a sticky note on the bathroom mirror.

  Good morning! Have a wonderful day!

  I did kiss you goodbye but you were OUT COLD! LOL.

  But I left proof on your cheek.

  Rachel looked at her reflection for the first time this morning and started laughing. There, on her left cheek, was perfect imprint of Ainsley’s lips rendered in pink lipstick.

  Grinning like a teenager, she took the note and placed it in her nightstand drawer where it joined the Coaster tickets she and Ainsley had used when they had decided to take the train down to San Diego one day to visit the museums, and a hardcover edition of Pride and Prejudice which was currently pressing three of the flowers from those arrangements Ainsley had given her on Valentine’s day.

  Tod
ay was going to be a busy day for Rachel. She had three showings—thankfully all in Carlsbad this time—including another one with the dreaded Crawleys. Rachel had decided to make a game of her ordeal with that couple. Before meeting with them, she was going to try to guess just how ridiculously low the husband’s offer was going to be, make note of it in her phone and then see how close she was.

  Between the showings, she had a meeting to attend at Bartow-Alcott and then another meeting at Chase bank. She was going to discuss the possibility of getting a small business loan for starting her own brokerage. She wasn’t ready to pull the trigger on that quite yet but she at least wanted to get an idea of what she could hope to qualify for. She had already done some research and had a rough notion of what kind of startup costs she was facing and she was certain that with her savings, her great credit and recent income history, the bank would be amenable to helping her.

  An hour later, Rachel arrived early at her first showing. This wasn’t one of her listings and so if she managed to sell it she’d have to split the commission but she wouldn’t mind. The realtor whose listing this was had quite the presence in this part of California and if Rachel could get into the habit of selling homes that had his placard in the front yard she’d do quite well for herself, even with the split.

  As she moved through the four-bedroom house, making sure it looked presentable, Rachel was reminded of the soreness of her vagina. Ainsley had really gone to town on her yesterday with the strap on, practically fucking her senseless with it! It had been exactly what Rachel had wanted. She may be off men but sometimes a good, deep pounding was what her pussy needed and Rachel had learned yesterday that even though a dildo might not be made of warm flesh, it had the all-important benefit of not coming after only a minute or two and going limp.

  Yesterday, Ainsley and her blue dildo had given Rachel all that she could take, first from behind and then with Ainsley atop her in the missionary position. The combined sensations of being stuffed with deep and hard thrusts and of Ainsley’s nipples brushing against her own had worked together to make Rachel’s second orgasm a shattering one which had exhausted her with its intensity.

  Even now, despite the soreness below her waist, Rachel felt her clit twitch at the memory, knowing that sore or not she’d let Ainsley do it all to her again tonight.

  She suddenly stopped her inspection of the empty house as another thought came to her.

  Off men…

  Was she off men?

  Like for good?

  In all honesty, she hadn’t really considered it, certainly not like that. What she did know was that since becoming involved with Ainsley, she hadn’t once thought about any guy as a potential romantic or sexual partner. And that alone was saying something! This was Southern California. Beautiful and well-built men practically grow on trees here. Even the cashier at Von’s yesterday, where Rachel and Ainsley had stopped off to buy some wine, could have a career as a Calvin Klein model. Yet whatever it was that had caused her to metaphorically drool over such guys previously was no longer there—or at least had been switched off. Yesterday’s cashier had been just that to Rachel: just some guy who was ringing up their bottle of Riesling.

  Right now, all Rachel’s body craved was Ainsley. All she wanted to discover were more new, fun and even unusual ways for them to get each other off because her sex life had never been this good!

  So, yes, she was off men. If that changed sometime in the murky future, she’d deal with it then. But thinking about it now, Rachel just knew it wasn’t going to change.

  She heard a car door shut outside. Her clients were here. Smoothing her pencil skirt and then buttoning the fitted blue blazer she was wearing, Rachel hurried to the front door.

  ***

  The meeting at Chase bank went well. The loan officer in charge of small business loans was encouraging, letting Rachel know that unless things changed drastically with her financial situation she could expect to get at least the amount she had guesstimated needing. He was particularly impressed with Rachel’s notion that instead of renting expensive office space, she could make use of a service like WeWork or another shared-office outfit. The truth was, as a real estate agent, Rachel could do most of her work from her house. And when she did have to meet with clients other than at a listing, she always preferred meeting them in a casual, relaxed environment such as a coffeeshop or a nice bar. She had even met one client at McDonald’s because she had two small kids with her who played in the playground while mommy talked real estate with Rachel. However, if she ever did need to meet a client in a more professional setting, making use of a shared-office kind of set-up would be more than suitable. Doing so would save her future brokerage a lot of overhead costs when compared to leasing full-time office space.

  The success of her discussion with the bank put Rachel in a great mood. Good thing, too; because her next showing was with the Crawleys and Rachel thought that being in such a good mood might help prevent her from murdering the male half of that couple.

  Parking outside the listing, Rachel thought for a moment.

  This house was for sale for $625,000. Given Mr. Crawley’s past history of ridiculous offers, Rachel guessed that he would insist she offer $550,000 even though Rachel would tell him she expected the house would sell at $630,000—at least. Even though the house was nowhere near the beach, it was on a large lot, had two stories, three bedrooms and was in a great neighborhood.

  She tapped $550,000 into the Notes app on her phone. She told herself that if she came within $10,000 either above or below that number, she’d treat herself to a caramel latte at La Vida Mocha.

  During the showing, Rachel kept her eyes on Mrs. Crawley—Malina, as she insisted on being called. As with the other properties Rachel had shown this couple, Malina was clearly in love with this house. That became even more evident when Rachel took them to the backyard and showed them the large work shed that was in one corner of the yard. Malina had once told Rachel that her hobby was sculpting and Rachel pointed out how this shed would be the perfect workshop for such an activity.

  “Okay, so what do you think?” Rachel asked several minutes later when the tour was over.

  “Love it!” Malina enthused. “I wasn’t even imagining that we could afford a place in Carlsbad.”

  “People always think that,” Rachel said with a laugh. “But there are reasonably priced options if you know where to look.”

  “This isn’t bad,” Mr. Crawley—Dan (which Rachel thought suited him for some reason)—said. He always said that, obviously trying to sound disinterested, as if doing so would somehow magically lower the price. “How much is it again?”

  Rachel sighed inwardly. Such a Dan-type question.

  “$625,000,” she told him, knowing he already knew the answer.

  Dan looked at his wife with what Rachel imagined was his “pondering” face.

  “I think we should offer five-hundred,” he stated.

  Rachel wasn’t sure she heard correctly.

  Five-hundred? Five-hundred thousand?

  Rachel was stunned—and disappointed; she really wanted that caramel latte.

  $500,000 was not an offer! It couldn’t even be called an insult! It was offensive! This house would have to literally have no roof in order for it to sell at $500,000!

  From feeling stunned, Rachel moved quickly to feeling angry. This was the last straw! She’d had enough of this guy and she didn’t care if the Crawleys dropped her as their realtor and then lambasted her on Yelp. Dan needed to hear some truths and Rachel was about to be the one to provide them.

  But just as she opened her mouth, Malina said, “We’ll offer the asking price.”

  Both Rachel and Dan looked at her.

  Dan, chuckling, said, “Honey, let’s not go crazy, okay? Buying a house is a process of negotiation and—”

  “Shut up!” Malina barked. Dan took a step backwards, as if he had been slapped. Crossing her arms, Malina went on.

  “If this is a proces
s of negotiation,” she said, “where are the other negotiators, huh? Why is it that nobody who is selling a house is actually calling us back with counteroffers; you know, like in a negotiation?”

  Dan opened his mouth to speak but again was cut off.

  “Shut up!” Malina barked again.

  Meanwhile, Rachel was watching this unfold with a shocked look on her face and feeling tremendously proud of Malina.

  “I love this house,” Malina continued. “I loved all the other houses Rachel showed us and which we lost because of you! Now, you either agree with me to make a competitive offer on this house or I buy it myself and live in it without you. And you know I can.”

  Dan leaned in and whispered, “Can we talk about this in private, please?”

  “No!” Malina snapped. “We have spent so much time with Rachel looking at houses that I now consider her one of my best friends!”

  “Honey…”

  “I invited her to my birthday party!” Malina screeched.

  This was true. The evite had landed in Rachel’s inbox a couple of days ago.

  “I swear to God, Dan,” Malina said, “I will use my money to buy this house. But when I do, you will not be living here with me since you apparently enjoy living in your mother’s spare bedroom so much!”

  Malina turned to Rachel.

  “Asking price!” she instructed.

  ***

  After the couple left, with Malina walking in the lead and Dan following behind her, his head hanging down, Rachel stayed behind in the house, standing at one of the kitchen counters and using her laptop to submit the offer paperwork, hoping beyond hope that an offer of asking price would be accepted. Malina she adored; but if she never laid eyes on Dan again, it would be too soon.

  Once done, she went through the house again, making sure the doors to the backyard and the side yard were locked. On the front porch, she secured the front door once more with the lockbox and then headed to her car. With Malina finally finding her voice, the house-hunting saga with the dreaded Crawleys could finally be over and Rachel decided that merited a caramel latte at La Vida Mocha, despite her being so far off with her guess on what Dan’s ridiculous offer would be.