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Strap-On Sister

Strap-On Sister

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Karen and I always believed we were ahead of the sexual curve.

Today the newest adult generation seems far less conformist about gender roles. They don’t care who fucks whom, so long as it’s consensual. Well hell, Karen and I were doing that long before it was cool.

Things started when we met in college. It was wildly exciting to be away from home, free of constraints. We became immediate friends, horny coeds irresistibly drawn to each other. We bonded over our identical desires to explore our newly unleashed sexuality.

Naturally, we began our experiments with one another.

I remember bringing her to my dorm room, leading her up onto my bed. We were both shivery with curiosity and desire.

“You ever do it with another girl before?” I asked.

Karen was wide-eyed. “No.” She was an unbelievably gorgeous young woman, who made my pussy hum uncontrollably.

“Me either,” I said. Then we kissed. It was no hesitant peck either, but a full-on, tongue-scouring, tonsil-probing kiss. When we came up for air, our faces were lit with pure lust. We tore the clothes off our bodies and flung ourselves naked beneath the covers. All night we fondled, fingered, licked and sucked until our bodies couldn’t take it anymore. Then we slept, woke up and fucked all over again.

But ours wasn’t a simple pedestrian tale of lesbian experimentation. Together, we dove into the wildest scenes we could find. We made friends with all the gay groups at school but didn’t pass up the hetero parties either.

Karen and I had plenty of physical fun along the way. We were insatiable. We regularly shared boyfriends and girlfriends. We hooked up with a guy who liked to dress up in woman’s lingerie when we fucked. (Goddamn, that dude was hot!) We knew an older woman off campus who liked Karen and me to spank her curvy ass, then screw her silly with a wide variety of sex toys. There were threeways and fourways and orgies. How we ever found time to study and actually pass our classes astounds me now. But we miraculously pulled it off.

Maybe our greatest coup was in our senior year when we went undercover at one of the frat houses. It was a notoriously boorish place, with the fraternity president always shit-talking all over campus. Karen and I snuck into one of their “guys only” parties by slicking down our hair, wearing baggy clothes and donning fake mustaches.

The place was dimly lit, and everyone was already drunk enough that we got away with it. We milled around among those meatheads, finally slipping upstairs to look for an empty bedroom. Peeking into one of the doorways, we got a big surprise. There was the frat president rolling around naked with one of his “bros,” the two guys sucking one another’s cocks. The sight fired us up so much that we rushed back to our place to fuck like wildcats, needing to be naked and loud.

I nuzzled with Karen afterward, our naked bodies sticky and sweaty. We kissed softly, murmuring love words at each other. The end of college life was swiftly approaching. I was glad we hadn’t wasted our time.

Now, somehow, that was all 20 years in the past. I had a career and all the grown-up trappings that went with it. Karen lived in another state, caught up in her own respectably adult life.

So when she phoned out of the blue one day, I was delighted. “Hey, strap-on sister!” she giggled. “I’m in town. You wanna go have some fun?”

Her words sent a thrill coursing through my body. My nipples stood suddenly erect and my pussy dampened. “Strap-on sisters” was what friends had called us at school. I hadn’t heard the nickname in years, but it transported me back to those crazy days in an instant.

“Yes,” I said, breathless. “Absolutely!”

A hundred memories crashed through my mind as I prepared to meet my oldest and dearest friend, feeling my anticipation grow with every passing second. I paused in front of my bedroom mirror. I had kept myself in great shape and still had the toned body I’d enjoyed sharing so often as a college-age girl. There were a few lines on my face now, but I didn’t mind that. I didn’t think they lessened my appeal in the least. For a 40-something, I figured I looked damn hot.

I wondered what Karen had meant by “fun.” Would we end up fooling around with each other, like the old days? Maybe she just wanted to catch up, but I hoped it would be more than that.

Still standing nude before the mirror, I put hands to my tits and started squeezing them. I tweaked my needy nipples and lowered a hand to my pussy to tease apart my moist cunt lips. Thinking about Karen, my excitement rose and rose. I jammed two fingers into myself and worked them hard. I came in under a minute, calling out her name. Dazed, I laughed at my flushed reflection. Maybe I should just take this thing a step at a time.

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