Page 144 of Whirlwind

Something snapped into place. If this was what submission was, she wanted more of it. Wanted to be the target of all of Carla’s demands and desires, to be so utterly needed that Carla had to hold her in place to take everything that she had to give.

She’d enjoyed the kiss earlier, both the giving and the taking. The way that they could be rough and aggressive with each other and then softly sweet. No one had ever kissed her like that.

But she liked this even more. The way that Carla held her like all she had to do to please him was let herself drift away on the sensations that he wrung from her.

Carla rubbed against her thigh, and she could feel that he was wearing a cock, too. A tiny part of her was confused, but mostly it was just unimaginably hot. She could imagine him strutting around, cock hard and ready, commanding attention.

Did this mean that they were gay men? Was this how gay men felt against each other? Or was this something completely different? Some other type of queerness that she couldn’t put a label to?

If a cis-man had rubbed his cock on her this way, it would have been revolting. But with Carla it was intriguing. Alluring. The contrast between the soft touch of his breasts and the hard bulge of his cock was electrifying.

And Carla was still kissing her, his mouth hungry to know and claim every piece of her. She raised her hands, overcome by sensation and just needing to hold something to keep herself tethered.

Her hands met Carla’s belt, that wide masculine strip of leather that always drew her eyes. She’d fantasized about that belt. And now she was touching it. It was thrillingly intimate.

She ran her hands up and down Carla’s sides, feeling the contrast. The masculine thickness of it against the gentle curve of hips and waist, the feminine form compelled into straight lines. She heard herself moan.

Carla hummed and pressed in closer, encouraging her to touch.

This wasn’t awkward at all. Almost easy.

And sex had never been easy for her.

Knowing that Carla wanted to take care of her, though, changed everything. She didn’t need to be aggressive and in control. And, somehow, she could do that without taking off her clothes.

Carla pressed his thigh upward, grinding it against her, and another jolt went through her. Touching her own cock was always exciting, though she hadn’t done it in years. Having a partner rub against it, especially with that extra device inside, didn’t just feel good. It felt right.

She thrust back against him, chasing the sensation. She didn’t usually let anyone touch her, but it was different when she was thrusting back against Carla, knowing that he could feel her hardness.

She let her hands wander up Carla’s back, feeling the warmth of his skin and wishing she could get underneath all of those layers. His shirt was thin, but there were tight bands of some other fabric constricting his chest, likely a binder or sports bra.

She hoped he would take it off. They hadn’t talked about Carla’s body, about what he was comfortable with. She reminded herself, though, that she didn’t need to worry about it.

She ran her hands up his back again. She was still drowning in his kisses, but also noticing everything about him. It felt like touching a mirror of herself.

Everyone she’d slept with before wore lacy bras with skinny straps. They smelled of delicate perfumes and wore deep-necked blouses to reveal their cleavage. They made her feel strong and masculine through the contrast of their femme presentation.

With Carla, though, it felt rough and masculine. It was, somehow, even more queer, an unlikely matching of similarities that had her more turned on than she’d ever been in her life. Touching Carla was thrilling. Shocking. Everything that she’d wanted and hadn’t even admitted to herself.

Yet she still worried. Some ingrained response that she was doing something wrong. That she needed to hide herself and what she wanted.

Carla broke the kiss and nuzzled against her cheek, smooth skin to smooth skin. “I lost you, babe. What’s going on?”

She’d never had a lover notice her inattention, either. Carla always seemed to see so much of her.

“Stupid bullshit from my childhood, I suppose. It’s just… hard to get over it sometimes. It’s like… being with a woman is gay, but this is… gayer?”

Carla drew back to look at her and gave her another soft kiss on the cheek. “More transgressive? To be masculine and feminine at the same time, and then want the same thing in the person you’re attracted to?”

“Something like that.”

Carla whispered in her ear. “That’s part of what makes it so sexy, though. I admire you. I look up to you. I want to be you and I want to be with you.”

“I was thinking that you’re like… a mirror. I mean, not quite because you’re young and outgoing and...”

Carla cut her off with a kiss. “I like that idea. That we can mirror each other. That our presentation is similar, because that’s what we’re attracted to. There’s also something that we can give each other.”

“I’m not sure what I give you.”