For almost 10 years I’ve made good use of an Aslan Jaguar dildo harness. By ‘made good use of’, I mean, I’ve had a lot of really hot sex. I’ve been a fan since I first strapped on the supple leather with finished edges and a fit that helped me forget it was there. Alas, it is showing its age and I must retire it. That I had a Jaguar at all was not due to my superior shopping skills or bank account (they aren’t cheap). Rather, I won via an erotic story writing contest. I don’t know who all of the competitors were, but I do know who came in second place because they are a celebrated erotic writer and long-time friend. I won my fabulous Aslan Jaguar harness because I wrote an erotic story that edged out one written by Sinclair Sexsmith, of Sugarbutch Chronicles fame. In every other way, Sinclair has edged (or leaped) ahead of me in erotic story success, so it has always tickled me that I won the Jaguar.
I never published the story here, because it was a gift to the sex blogger who sponsored the contest, Agent Ansely. The rules were pretty simple: write a story featuring the blogger and the harness and the writer. Write the best one (as judged by the AAagent) and win the harness.
This is the story I wrote:
I remember arriving home and seeing the box on my doorstep. I took a look at the label and almost danced a jig of happiness. I think I giggled, even. I put it on right away, standing in front of the mirror admiring my new profile. As advertised, the Jaguar harness put the base of the Goodfella cock right against my clit, with the balls outside the harness. I tested it with a few pulls and realized I didn’t want to wait to try it out on someone else. Normally this would have the night my girlfriend and I spent together, but she’d called earlier to apologize. Some emergency had come up at work, and she had to cancel. The timing was crappy, we’d both been anticipating the delivery of my new gear. But I decided not to sit around and have a pitty party, instead I got ready quickly and headed out to try my luck.
No cover charge at my local queer bar that night meant I could budget an additional beer, or maybe a drink for someone else. There weren’t many people in the bar yet, it was a mid-week night after all. I nodded to the bartender and ordered my beer and a shot of good reposado tequila. The tequila matched my aggressive mood. The barkeep gave me a wink along with my change.
I moved through the bar, scanning the few patrons scattered about. Some dykes playing pool, a couple of gay guys in their 20s talking animatedly and laughing loudly with their hands. The pool playing butches stiffened noticeably when I scanned their dates. I liked that, I felt like a shark that night and I wanted to broadcast it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of their girlfriends give me the top-to-bottom once over, pausing noticeably at my crotch. But I wasn’t looking for a fight, really, so I kept going past the pool tables, along back of the bar.
I took a spot on the rail overlooking the dance floor. A small number of people had positions close to the floor, waiting for the music volume and crowd level to rise. I moved down to my favorite booth, more room than I needed, but comfortable and with a good view of the dance floor and surrounding tables. I glanced around again, noting the groups and singles, wondering which singles were waiting for someone, or like me, on the prowl.
I stretched one leg out on the booth seat, and adjusted myself. I was still getting used to the harness and cock, but overall it felt pretty good. Once I was comfortably situated, I took another scan of the room. A new person had arrived while I was messing with my package. Her eyes met mine directly. I took a sharp intake of breath, she was literally breathtaking. White dress shirt, blood-red tie, dark grey pinstriped vest with matching trousers, red pumps, dark grey fedora with blood-red hat band. I couldn’t tell because of the lighting and distance, but was sure her nails and lips matched her tie. Hot goddamn, she was turning butch high fashion on its head and kicking its ass. I always have been a sucker for a tailored suit on a femme. My clit pulsed against my cock. I finished my slow appraisal of her and found that she was still staring hard at me. She had a faint smile, a knowing smile, and I found myself squirming under her gaze. She took a slow sip of her drink, taking the straw between her lips with exaggerated care. My mind raced, should I recognize her? She reminded me of Chrissie Hynde in the 70s: slim, confident, dark-hair and eyes. Who was she and where did she come from? She completely out-classed anyone at this small town bar and I wondered if there was a show in town, something that would have drawn this exotic creature to our humble burg.
I took a glance at myself, and feeling unworthy of the attention I was receiving. I hadn’t done much to turn myself out for the night, just rocking the casual working class butch look I could easily pull out of my closet at a moment’s notice. With the exception of my new cock and harness, there wasn’t much special going on in my wardrobe, and I wasn’t sure she could tell I was packing.
I looked up again and she had turned her attention to her phone and drink. She still had that small smile on her face and I was certain she knew I was looking at her, watching her thumbs and wondering who she was texting, if someone was coming to meet her. She was so gorgeous, so completely out of the ordinary, others were looking her way as well. She was very casual about it all, as if she was completely accustomed to being the center of attention and completely deserving.
The booths and tables were filling up and the first few dancers were getting warmed up in the center of the room. I tried to watch her, see if someone came to meet her, weighing the odds that a small town butch like me could get a dance or two with a babe like that. She was now studiously ignoring me, not looking at me, intent on her phone. I finished my beer and started to get up, figuring I could make a move toward her, or at least walk by on my way to another beer, when a group of friends swarmed my position. A flurry of hugs, back slaps and enthusiastic greetings followed and I invited them to share my booth. By the time I looked back over to her, she was gone.
“Damn,” swore under my breath and cursed my lack of initiative. One of my friends asked what was wrong. “Nothin… there was this girl, but she’s gone now.” As soon as I could, I excused myself to go get another beer and moved away from the group, not at all certain I’d return.
I was feeling a bit sorry for myself, figuring I was all dressed with no one to fuck after all. I was tasting the bitterness of my own insecurity, kicking myself for not going over to her, trying anything to start a conversation. How about something easy like “Do I know you?” anything would have been better than letting the opportunity pass. I moved through the crowd along the rail, eyes not really focusing on much when someone grabbed me by the belt and yanked me off my stride, away from the rail. I turned with sudden irritation, thinking it was one of my friends. And there she was, hands on my shoulders, pushing me against the wall. She spoke to me in a sultry, smoky voice, “And where do you think you’re going? Hmmm?” Her voice was the verbal equivalent of the knowing smile she’d given me earlier. Again, my mind raced, who was she? She looked familiar, but I didn’t know if it was just the Chrissie Hynde thing, or something else.
I asked the question and she responded with a deeply amused chuckle, “You don’t recognize me, that’s funny. You don’t recognize me, but I know who you are, Kyle,” The way she said that name made a shiver go up my spine. Shit, she knew who I was online, who the hell was she? I didn’t bother asking again, I had a pretty good feeling she’d just laugh at me and keep the information to herself. She grabbed my belt, pulling me in a possessive way. My hands clenched and unclenched with the desire to reach around and grab her, touch her in some way, but she was so clearly pulling top on me that I didn’t dare. I’d gone out that night as the hunter, but I’d become the prey.
She released her grip on my belt and told me not to move. She reached around and grabbed my ass as if she were testing its firmness. Her hands slid slowly around my hips and I bit my lip against a groan. She held her body close to mine, but we didn’t quite touch. One hand went between my legs and grabbed my cock. “Uhhnn,” I groaned out loud that time, the sound drowning in dance music and the babble of the passing crowd. Silence or sound, it wouldn’t have mattered, she knew she was getting to me, that my knees were quivering and small spasms kept running through my body. I could barely hold still and she’d hardly done anything to me yet.
She let go of my cock and pressed me into the wall, pushing her thigh between my legs. I dipped against her leg, wanting to feel the pressure of my cock against my clit. I automatically reached for her hips, sliding one arm around the small of her back. She put her lips against my ear “Still don’t know who I am? Letting a total stranger play with your dick and tell you what to do?” I stammered something completely nonsensical and she chuckled, a really lovely, if sinister, sound. “Come with me.”
She turned and began striding toward the exit, leaving me almost stumbling to keep up, feeling the slickness gathered behind the base of my cock and running down my leg. I was also feeling the effects of that shot of tequila, and the blood rushing away from my brain, into my groin. What was I thinking at that moment? Thinking, are you kidding me? There was no thought, only desire. I didn’t care what she had in mind, I just didn’t want to miss out. Somehow, this gorgeous, strong, fierce woman wanted me and I wasn’t going to let any insecurity or doubt ruin my opportunity. We emerged from the bar and she took a few strides down the sidewalk. I had a chance to really see her move, finally. The sway of her hips, the strong determined stride, the way she ran her fingers through her dark hair while resettling her hat, mmmhmmm, she was so fine, so put together. She turned and gave me a once over. I felt distinctly like a piece of butch meat as her eyes appraised my thighs, crotch, arms, chest and face. The outdoor air helped my mind clear slightly, and I was feeling a little more like my cocky self when I looked her straight in the eye, with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.
“Oh, yeah?” she asked in an amused tone.
She turned again and walked around the corner, not looking to see if I was following. And I was, like a moth to a flame, like a drug addict following a dealer. She went a short way, then turned into an alley. I stopped at the entrance, she sensed this and looked back, “Stopping now? Don’t tell me you’re chickening out… I know how you are, I’ve read all about it.”
Oh, shit, I’ve written about this and posted it, sex in an alley, she was playing back one of my smut pieces. In fact, this was *my* alley, the one I’d written about, but only one person knew this alley specifically. Who the hell was this mystery woman, how did she know who I was? I began to have the sneaking suspicion I’d been set up. Even with that thought hovering in the back of my mind, I couldn’t stop my feet from jogging to catch up with her.
As I pulled up next to her, she turned toward me, pulling my arm and getting me off balance, shoving me in the direction of a dark doorway alcove. I caught myself before falling and turned toward her. She pushed into me, grabbed my face and pulled my mouth to hers. She forced her tongue in deep, easily fighting off my efforts to reciprocate. She broke contact abruptly, stared at me as I fought to regain my breath and my composure.
“On your knees,” she commanded and I didn’t even question her right, dropping quickly to my knees in front of her. I could feel the grit and dampness of the pavement, and knew there was a good chance I’d sport bruises by morning.
I looked up at her, trying to read her mind, then looked at her crotch. The odd way her pants draped in front caused my butch cock to twitch hard and I started to salivate. She reached down, unzipping. She pulled the front of her trousers apart and revealed red lace panties straining to contain a thick cock. “Oh, god,” came out before I could stop it. I was staring at the twin brother of the gear I was wearing under my jeans.
She grabbed the hair at the nape of my neck and jerked my head back, directing my eyes to hers, “You want it, don’t you?” I could feel resistance flare up in me, the hair grab did it every time. I knew she could see it in my eyes but she didn’t say a word, just pulled my head back farther and stared me down. I laughed at myself inwardly, who was I to resist at this point, when I was already on my knees in an alley way? I felt my rebellion pass, and uttered a single word, “Yessssss.”
She reached down with her free hand and pushed her panties down, releasing her cock. She pulled my face toward her, pushing her cockhead against my mouth. She paused there, apparently relishing the sight of a butch on his knees ready to suck femme cock. She pushed her thumb into the corner of my mouth, opening it. I didn’t resist, letting her direct me, feeling the moisture, once again, gather between my legs. She pushed her cockhead into my mouth, and I had the weird sensation that I was sucking my own cock and felt another pulse as my butch cock reacted to this mental image.
I gave myself over to her cock, sucking, licking, pulling it further into my throat than was comfortable, gagging a little then settling into a rhythm with her hips. She held my head loosely, but I knew she’d be quick to assert her control if necessary. I slid my hands up the back of her legs, gripping her ass, pulling her cock more firmly into my gasping mouth. I opened up and let her fuck me with it, bucking my own hips in an effort to get off with her. I gripped her cock at the base, thumb against her balls, pushing into her clit, wanting to make her come, wanting some kind of control. She allowed it, and maybe she was letting herself go a little, I could hear her gasping breath and knew she was getting close.
She suddenly took two handfuls of my hair and impaled me on her cock, holding my nose against her harness, seemingly unconcerned about my need to breath. I struggled and attempted to inhale through the leather. My climax hit me then, speared on her cock, struggling for breath, being exquisitely used by this stunning woman. At about the same moment, she cried out, once, grudgingly giving me what I’d worked so hard for. She loosed her grip, allowing me to breath, and continued to fuck my mouth in slow long strokes. I was holding on for dear life at that point, knees aching, jaw forced open for too long, feeling bruised from the tip of my tongue to the back of my throat. But I held on, and she finished, finally withdrawing herself and leaning against the back of the alcove above me. I shifted, trying to relieve my knees and she reached down, lifting me up. She pushed the full length of her body against me, and we kissed long and deep. She allowed me to slip my tongue into her mouth, and sucked on it the way I’d sucked her cock.
She pulled back, slowly this time, lingering over my lips, letting me run my hands across her body. She sighed and stepped back, tucking her cock back in, fastening her trousers. I looked her, still trying to figure out who she was, and why I’d had the good fortune of being taken advantage of by her tonight.
She knew what I was thinking, of course, and laughed at the questioning look on my face. “You still don’t know, do you, Kyle? Well, that makes this all the more delicious.”
She glanced at her watch and then toward the street lights at the end of the alley.
“Hey, uh, so what are you doing now?” I was trying to be casual, desperately trying to regain my cool.
“Oh, I’m going to walk out of here and get into my car and drive away. You’re going to do the same. You’re also going to call your girlfriend and thank her for the wonderful time you just had.”
“Wha,wha, huh? Who are you?” I was stunned and confused and stammering like a fool. I could feel myself blushing with embarrassment, all my confidence and cocksure attitude washed away with the sudden realization that I’d been set up and by whom.
“Oh, you’re cute alright, she said you would be. This has been great fun for me, too. You’ve got a great mouth,” She delivered that praise with a leer and then turned, making her way back up the alley.
“But who are you?”
She stopped, looking over her shoulder.
“Ansley, Agent Ansley. And you’re very welcome.”
This content is published under the Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported license.