“Darn. I really wanted to see what balls look like.”
“You’ll see them in the movies,” said Kim. “En garde!” She held the dildo by the handle and brandished it like the sword Excalibur, but the rubber weenie just flopped around.
I giggled. “That’s one lame weapon.”
“Oh well. Let’s watch the videos.” Kim switched on the TV and took the videos out of their plastic boxes.
“What do you want to watch first, Farm Family Free for All or Group Grope 9?”
“How about Farm Family Free for All?” We unzipped our sleeping bags and curled up side by side, propping our heads up on pillows so we could see the TV. Punching buttons on the remote control, Kim fast-forwarded to the opening scene, where a well-endowed hottie, looking much like Heidi with a blonde mullet and cleavage, skipped through a cornfield in an astonishingly low-cut blue gingham dress. The scene changed to the inside of a barn, where two men in plaid flannel shirts and overalls were milking cows. The younger man stood up and stretched.
“Gee, Paw,” he drawled. “Ah wish Sissy would git here with those vittles. Ah need a break.”
Outside, the blonde in blue gingham peeked through a crack in the barn door. Seeing the men, she slipped one hand up her gingham skirt and opened the door.
“Did Ah hear y’all say yuh need some refreshments?”
The men turned and gaped as she stepped into the barn, toting a straw basket in the crook of her arm and fondling her breasts.
I shook my head. “God, Kim! Can you believe these accents? Nobody talks like that.”
“Watch this.” Kim pointed the remote control at the TV. The video flew into fast-forward. Three more people in plaid flannel, calico, and gingham speed-walked into the barn, where they all tore off each other’s clothes, sprawled on the hay, and plugged themselves into each other’s orifices, fucking and sucking as fast as an assembly line.
“Dammit, Kim! I’m never going to see genitals this way!” I grabbed the remote control and pushed play. My jaw dropped. Two tanned, tight-bodied girls, locked in a 69, were licking each other. With identical big boobs and blonde mullets, they looked like twins. In fact, they were twins. This was Farm Family Free for All. My heart beat faster. I’d never seen two girls having sex, even on screen. Out of the corner of my eye, I peered at Kim. Did she know this was going to be in the video? I knew orgies meant sex scenes with more than one man, more than one woman, or several of both. Somehow it hadn’t dawned on me that girls would be getting it on with each other. I gaped at the screen transfixed, crotch tingling under the covers. I crossed my legs and squeezed my thighs together. Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I slipped my hands between my thighs. Kim’s elbow brushed against mine, so the tiny hairs on our arms stood on end. She was doing the same thing I was, but I didn’t dare look at her. I wondered if the people at school would be able to tell we’d watched lesbian porn. Would they see it in our eyes?
In English class earlier that year we had been talking about Virginia Woolf. The class was sitting in a semicircle around the edge of the room, facing our teacher, Mrs. Byrd. My mind was wandering, when someone mentioned the word lesbians. Patty raised her hand.
“Have there ever been any lesbians in our school?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Byrd. “We’ve had some.”
“How can you tell?”
“Sometimes two girls are…closer than normal.”
“Does the school do anything about it?” asked Patty.
“We try to split them up,” said Mrs. Byrd. “Sometimes we tell their parents.”
A hush fell over the room, as we all exchanged nervous glances. I looked at Kim, who sat across the room from me doodling. She didn’t look up.
If they found out, would they separate us? Tell our parents?
Meanwhile, on Farm Family Free for All, the rest of the family joined the girls with mullets. The scene turned into a more traditional orgy with writhing bodies—a monster with multiple arms and legs. I circled my clit with my fingertip, less interested in the family scene, but barely admitting—even to myself—the girl-on-girl porn had turned me on.
Kim grunted next to me. She was snoring.
“Come on—I know you’re not really asleep.”
No answer.
“Kim?” I put my hand on her shoulder.
She was really asleep. I thought about waking her up, then changed my mind and circled my clit faster, feeling lucky and slightly out of control. My back tensed and my heart quickened, as I tried not to make any noise or move anything except my hand. I had played this game before—many times. The goal was to come without waking the other person. Sometimes, no doubt, the other person woke up and just pre- tended she was still sleeping. I had faked sleep myself when someone was masturbating beside me.
On screen the camera zoomed in on the girls. A man fucked one of them from behind, while she licked her sister’s pussy. Next to me, Kim was breathing slack-jawed—either sound asleep or damn good at pretending. Her legs twitched under the covers. Reaching my arm outside the blankets, I groped around on the icy hardwood floor. My hand landed on the dildo—cold, hard, and ribbed with veins. I dragged it into the sleeping bag and pushed its cold head against the wet lips of my cunt. With a deep breath, I tried to ease the rubber cock inside me. It didn’t fit. I pushed, took another breath, and pushed again. Still no go. Suddenly I remembered the K-Y Jelly. I ran my hand over the floor and found the KY. It looked like a tube of toothpaste. I squeezed a glob of clear lube into my palm. I couldn’t believe how cold it was. I thought of Kim’s refrigerated cucumbers. I didn’t want anything that cold near my pussy, but if I wanted The Boss inside me, I knew I had to get the lube in there first.
I soaked the head of The Boss in K-Y, then—wincing— squeezed the cold lube directly into my cunt. It spilled onto the sleeping bag, spreading out in a puddle under my butt. Shivering, I glanced at Kim. Her eyelids fluttered. She was dreaming. With several deep breaths, I shoved The Boss inside me. My whole body shook—my cunt was so full, it almost burned. I looked at Kim again. What would it be like to kiss her? I brushed my lips against her cheek. Mustering all my courage, I stretched out the tip of my tongue and licked her hair.
Kim stirred and turned over on her side. I froze. Was she awake? I listened for her breath. I was sure she was awake, but I couldn’t stop now. I eased the dildo in and out of my cunt. The woman on the screen came like a swimmer gasping for air. The man squeezed his cock and squirted white jizz on her tits. I came with them, melting into the scene. The cock inside me was his cock. My sounds shot out of her mouth. My wave of pleasure rocked her body on the screen. My cunt contracted and spit out the dildo—wet between my thighs. Warmth spread through my belly, heart, and limbs. I sank into the floor—and yet I was floating.
Someone nudged me.
“Stop it.”
“Wake up.”
“What? What time is it?”
“Five-thirty.”
“What the fuck?” I glanced around the dark, unfamiliar room.
“Wake up.” Kim’s shadowy form bent over me.
I suddenly remembered where I was—sprawled out on Kim’s living-room floor. I must have dozed off after I came.
“Lisa, listen to me. We have to get rid of these now.”
“Get rid of what?”
“These.” She bumped me on the cheek with something rubber. I winced, as the overhead lights blinked on. What was she talking about? Then it dawned on me. Jesus, what did I do last night? I remembered the wall of dildos, The Boss, and licking Kim’s hair—shit! Was she awake when I did that? What did she think of me?
“Lisa!” Kim repeated, bonking me on the head. “We’ve got to get rid of these things before my parents get home. They’ll be back early this morning.”
“We can’t just throw them away. They weren’t cheap.”
“Do you want to take them home with you?”
“Shit.” I peered at the dildos as my eyes adjusted to the light. “I don’
t think I can.”
“What should we do with them then? We can’t just throw them in the trash, or bury them in the backyard. The dogs’ll get at them.”
“Can we burn them?”
“God, no! They’d stink.”
“Well then, let’s just walk a few blocks down the street and throw them in someone else’s trash.”
“Good idea. We can take the car and drive a little ways away. We’ll take the videos back to the store too.” She put the VCR on rewind.
It was still dark outside. The crickets were chirping as we stepped out into the cold, wet air. Kim drove. I dozed in the passenger seat with the dildos in my lap wrapped in newspaper. The car screeched to a stop.
“Where are we?” The sky had turned dark blue. I rolled down my window, tasting the salt air.
“We’re at Fells Point. I was thinking we could throw them in the water,” said Kim. We climbed out of the car. I followed her to the edge of the pier. Water was lapping at the dock, and the seabirds called out, flapping their wings. One swooped within inches of the water, a white ghost.
Holding the dildos wrapped in newspaper, I peered down into the black water.
“It’s a shame to let these sink to the bottom of the harbor.”
“I know! Let’s float them out to sea on one of those boards over there.” Kim darted away and came back seconds later, dragging a dismantled bookcase. She pulled off the top shelf and dislodged several long rusty nails.
“We’ll put the dildos on a raft. That way, someone might find them.”
We lowered the board into the water. Kim tore off a sheet of newspaper and wrote:
S.O.S.
FREE TO A GOOD HOME.
I leaned over and placed the dildos side by side. Wrapped in newsprint, they looked like twins in swaddling clothes.
I thought of Romulus and Remus—the twins abandoned to the elements, who washed up on shore and founded Rome. Who knew what great fortune or conquest lay in store for our dildos? Would they be suckled by she-wolves? I watched them float away, convinced that some lonely soul, who desperately needed dildos, would find them.
Does She Look Like a Boy?
Tara-Michelle Ziniuk
When I ran through the door at work I was glad I had done my hair and makeup on the way. For the past while, my boss had been pestering me to be “as ready as possible as early as possible.” She and I both knew that I didn’t look quite like this when I wasn’t at work, but I’m not sure she understood my untended body hair or my refusing her invitations to tanning salons. I’m a femmey girl, no doubt, but not the type to get all glammed up without occasion to. The other girls at work were the straight girl equivalent to high-femme all the time, manicured and face-masked; they also did not understand.
I kissed Darlena on both cheeks then bolted to the walkin closet, which had been home to much slut-gear as well as my personal dressing room for nearly two years. I breathed in the scent of other people’s perfumes and overcompensating chemical detergents, all stale and mixed together. Not a minute after I closed the door and stripped down to begin a frantic search for my PVC bra and corset set, Darlena walked in behind me.
“The four o’clock guy called back,” she began (oh please don’t tell me he cancelled and I rushed here for nothing), “and he wanted to know if you looked like a boy.”
I laughed. “Did he look at our ad?” I asked.
“Apparently not. I directed him to the website but his Internet service was down. I wasn’t sure how to respond so I just joked back with him and said, ‘Well no, sir. Did you want her to?’ And he said yes.”
She was reading me for a reaction. This was not an environment that had fostered any sort of gender-bending positive play in the past, save a few male clients who liked to wear pantyhose. My first instinct was that it was a crank call and I was wasting my time, grrr.
“So, you think he’ll be a no-show?”
“I don’t know, he sounded pretty sincere, and you’re here now. Do you have a hat?”
I spent the next fifteen minutes scrambling to get out of my makeup and find masculine clothes among the leather and stilettos. I settled on a white dress shirt from an unclaimed bag of uniforms and schoolgirl attire, and found a white tank top to go under it. One of the other women at work had left behind a pair of dark-blue jeans with a wide black belt still in them. I pulled them on and they fit snug against my ass and thighs. I found a black cock in a box of sex toys and rinsed it in the sink before resting it against my already constricted cunt, and allowed myself to feel its stillness, rubbing my middle finger along the shaft. I positioned it so that it would be noticeable but not tacky, and zipped up the now very fitting pants.
When I came out of the washroom Darlena was waiting for me with the only hat she could find, a black cap with some anonymous Celtic symbol on it. It would do. I looked myself over in the full-length mirror. I certainly didn’t look macho, I looked faggoty. I hoped that was the idea. The hall clock read five-to-four, the hour I anticipated the caller’s arrival.
It was a good scene to have been called in for, more interesting than the bulk of them. I knew only that it was to be a dildo-training session and that this particular client had not seen any of the other girls before. I hoped he wouldn’t have any huge unavoidable flaws, specifically that he didn’t stink and wasn’t eighty years old and waiting for his next heart attack. Though these possibilities occurred to me, I somehow was not as panicked as I had often found myself before. I was quite intrigued by this character who wanted curvy lipsticklipped me in drag. Why hadn’t he booked a call with a male dom? I imagined complicated answers to this question until there was a knock at the door. I poured some water for myself into a crystal wine glass and went into the room to meet my new submissive.
He was definitely more masculine-looking than I had been able to pull off, an interesting element for the scene. He looked young and wide-eyed. He appeared willing and nervous, but not fearful. “Very nice to meet you. You will call me Master,” I said, in what I liked to call my best warm/ cool voice. I had impressed myself already by remembering that today I would be “Master” as opposed to “Mistress.” I extended a hand and he shook it firmly before kissing it. I hadn’t been sure of what to expect, but this pleased me. He was blushing as I motioned for him to have a seat. “We’ll just have a little chat and then get things started.” He nodded. I was unable to read his anxiety. “We use the code words yellow and red here, yellow for caution, red to stop the scene. You are familiar with these?” Another nod. “Have you done this before?” I asked genuinely.
“Similar things, but not exactly.” He certainly was not talkative.
“But you do have experience with BDSM and you feel confident that you know your limitations?”
“Yes, Master.” I could tell by his immediate submission to me that he did. He kept his eyes lowered, but I could see his wanting in them. There was no reason to take up more of our time together. I settled into character easily.
“I am your Master. You will do as I say, when I say to. You will be polite and courteous, and appreciative that I have taken up my valuable time to train you.” As I stood he dropped to his knees in front of me.
“Yes, Sir. Thank you in advance for spending your time on me.” He offered me a thick black collar with metal rings, and I thanked him by securing it tightly around his neck. He bowed his head and touched his nose to the polished tip of one of the too-large black army boots I was wearing. I rustled his hair before pulling his face up by it.
“Very good. Now why did you come here today?” No answer. “I asked you why you came here today.”
“I came here to please you, Master.”
“Now go back to what you were doing.” He curled by my feet, tracing his nose along the seams of the boots. Then he did the same with his entire face, resting his cheek against my ankle. He slowly licked the stitching around the soles. Before he was quite done with the second one, I interrupted. “Back up on your knees.” He was taller t
han me, and upright on his knees reached higher than my waist. I pushed him back so that he was sitting on the backs of his heels. His eye level was just below my swollen crotch. He seemed to look straight through the tops of my thighs. “You see something you like?” My voice was softer this time.
“Yes, Master. I do.”
Again he lowered his head. I felt the rush of excitement that I was intending for him electrifying my own body. We made eye contact, and though his body looked tough, the steady eyes that met mine looked like they had been hurt. They were focused now on something else. I nodded simply, testing to see if he did as well. A small well-hidden smile appeared as he faced my body. He ran his face along the zipper of my jeans, like he had done with my boots. He was slow and careful already so I didn’t have to direct him. He pressed his face harder and harder into me. I could feel myself getting wet as much as I tried not to, as he started kneading my cock with his face. His lips ran over it through the denim, as he looked up for my approval. He looked brave and small. I gave him another nod and he gently started kneading with his teeth. I tried my hardest not to release the gasp in my chest that so desperately wanted to be let out.
I decided to regain control of the situation and, unzipping the jeans, took the dick out inches in front of his face.
I ran my fingers over his mouth and he sucked and lapped at them with his soft tongue. I thrust myself into his mouth. He gave me the sweetest, fiercest blow job I had known, putting everything into it. He let his mouth handle the cock expertly, paying attention to its curves and shape and not leaving out anything. He was in tune to my hips’ rhythm and worked with and against it. I allowed myself to breathe heavily to let him know he was doing well, but I restrained myself from making any other sounds. I didn’t want to stop him, but I wanted to make sure I took over the scene before I came. I backed out of his soft wet mouth. This time when I looked at him he looked less bashful and more confident, like he had regained some of his pride giving head like that. “Did you like that?” I barked. He did not flinch. He licked his lips and gave me a look I had come to know well through various female lovers. “Did you?” they asked silently.
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