Chapter Text
i just know your strap game is insane
Francesca sighs as she reads the message, then she closes the dating app.
It’s ridiculous, she thinks. She’s only been on the apps for a few months, and known that she’s gay for six. She’s flirted, and she’s been flirted with. She’s gone on dates with women, and even slept with a few. So many different types of women too — and through it all, there’s still one assumption that follows her everywhere, one that involves her supposed mastery of a piece of silicone between her legs.
And she has no idea why so many women make the assumption. She’s tall, sure. And she’s fit. And while she’s started to experiment with wearing more masculine clothing, aren’t queer women supposed to be more… open-minded? Less prone to stereotypes? Instead, it feels like someone’s slapped a sticky note on her back that says “ask me how great i am with the strap!”, and she can’t quite reach around to pull it off.
She supposes that it wouldn’t bother her so much if she had actually used a strap before. She’s not necessarily averse to it, but it does seem a tad daunting. She’d need to be comfortable with someone to even consider using one, but none of her dates had panned out. Simply put, she’s out of luck.
Her phone buzzes again, and she’s half expecting it to be another message from a dating app, but is relieved when she sees it’s just Michaela.
Michaela: are we still on for movie night tonight?
Francesca: Yup! My place this week :)
A thought tries to cross through her brain, but Francesca shakes it away before it materializes.
But what if-
No.
Francesca gulps and takes a deep breath. It can’t be that insane of an idea. Michaela likes women. She has experience with them — far more than Francesca. And she’s someone that Francesca is comfortable with, possibly more than anyone else in the entire world. And yes, Francesca might have a little crush on her best friend, but surely she’s capable of pushing those minor feelings aside if it’s for a good cause. A purely educational cause. And it helps that she’s attractive, and non-judgemental, and she smells so good, and she’d look so good—
Michaela texts again.
Michaela: i’ll bring the wine <3
It’s just Michaela.
-----
They’re halfway through the bottle by the time Francesca works up the courage to ask her question. And even then, she’s still not sure what her plan of attack is. Most people don’t ask their best friends if they can practice using a strap on them.
She sees an opening when Michaela pauses the movie to grab a glass of water from the kitchen.
“Uh, Michaela?” she calls out.
“Oh, sorry. Do you want some water too? I’ll pour you a glass.”
“No,” Francesca says. “Actually, wait, yes, water would be good. But um, I had something else to ask, actually.”
Michaela walks back with both glasses of water and sets them down on the coffee table.
“Should I be scared?”
“I mean… hopefully not?”
“That isn’t very encouraging,” she says, leaning back into her end of the couch.
Francesca nods her head a few times and looks up at the ceiling. She’s not sure that she can look Michaela in the eye while she talks about this.
“Well… okay. So, hypothetically, hm. I— um, okay, okay. You know how on dating apps, girls will message you and be all like fuck me with the strap?” she says, holding up air quotes at the end of her sentence.
Michaela just looks at her dumbfounded.
“I… can’t say that that’s ever happened to me, Francesca.”
“Really?” Francesca asks, her face going red. “I get it all the time, like, at least once a day. And in person too. It’s almost like, unbearable.”
“Why is it unbearable?”
“Well, I just, I haven’t used one before, so it’s um, scary. Intimidating. And such.”
“And such,” Michaela repeats with a nod. “And so, what was your question?”
Francesca’s face heats up more, but she figures that she’s gotten this far, and that it’s too late to turn back.
“We’re friends, right?”
“That’s your question?”
“No, it’s, it’s part of it. It’s more of a proposition, really. We’re friends. Close friends. We do a lot of things for each other. You’re very, uh, honest, with me. So, in the spirit of friendship, and honesty, and learning, and all that is good in the world, could I, um, practice… on you?”
Michaela covers her face with her hand.
“Practice… on me… with the strap?”
“Yes.”
Michaela sighs loudly.
“You want to use a strap on. On me. As friends. For practice.”
“I— yeah,” Francesca says, her voice quiet.
“Francesca, that is ludicrous.”
“I know. And we don’t have to if you don’t want to. Really, we don’t. But I’m just saying, if we did, things wouldn’t need to be weird.”
“And how do you propose ensuring that things don’t become weird?”
“Well, first off, it’ll just be a one-time thing. I’ll be in and out, and then, oh— wait, in and out, um, that sounded weird. Ignore that. It’ll just be one time. And we don’t need to take our shirts off, or kiss, or anything like that. It’ll just be purely focused on the mechanics.”
Michaela shuts her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose.
“This is crazy, Francesca.”
“I know. And really, you don’t need to say yes.”
Michaela opens her eyes and studies her for what feels like an eternity. Then finally, she speaks.
“I’ll do it.”
-----
Francesca stands at Michaela’s doorstep a week later. She has a bag, and inside the bag, there’s a box. And inside the box, there’s a dildo and a harness.
She showed it to Michaela before she bought it, and it just makes the entire thing feel more real. And it’s weird, because it also feels so unreal that this is even happening. She didn’t chicken out, and neither did Michaela, and so now she’s standing outside of her door, with the express purpose of engaging in an activity far too intimate for two friends.
Michaela opens the door and steps aside to let Francesca through.
They walk in silence to Michaela’s bedroom. Francesca watches her. Her shorts are tiny. They cut off somewhere on her upper thighs, exposing a tantalizing amount of skin, and it serves as a crude reminder that Francesca is about to see even more of Michaela’s body exposed to her. And it really shouldn’t matter, given the practice of it all. But Francesca’s mouth still waters regardless.
Michaela closes the door to her room and sits on the edge of her bed.
“No kissing,” she says.
“Right,” Francesca confirms. “It’s just practice.”
“Just practice,” Michaela repeats. “Now let’s get you set up.”
Francesca removes her sweatpants, having worn boxer shorts underneath for the occasion. They work together to get the harness on, Francesca’s hands too shaky to do it on her own, until it’s nice and snug against Francesca’s body. And then they add the dildo, and Jesus Christ, Francesca cannot believe what is about to happen.
She’s not sure how things are supposed to start. Michaela still has her shorts on. And Francesca can’t do anything, obviously, if Michaela’s shorts are on. So she just stands in front of her, waiting, praying that Michaela makes the first move.
Michaela looks up at her, and she seems to recognize the nervousness painted across Francesca’s face.
“Here,” she says.
She brings her hand up and wraps it around the strap. Francesca’s breath hitches when Michaela closes her fist. She isn’t sure why. She can’t feel it, at least, not in the way that she’d be able to feel Michaela touching her bare skin, but it seems to register in her brain all the same. And then Michaela starts moving her hand, and Francesca takes back her earlier thought. She’s sure she can feel it. She certainly feels herself getting wet at the sight, and that’s enough to convince herself that she feels it.
“So, some girls might start like this,” Michaela says. “Even though you can’t feel it, it still can help. For the visual.”
For the visual.
She beckons Francesca to stand closer, which she does, and Michaela keeps moving her hand against her. Her strokes start to slow down, and Francesca thinks that she must be about to stop. She’s a little disappointed at that. But, she’s moving her head closer, and she’s licking her lips, and her eyes dart up to meet Francesca’s as she closes her mouth around the tip of her cock.
No, strap.
It’s a strap, and she can’t feel it. It’s not a part of her. Michaela’s head moves forward, and she takes more into her mouth, and Francesca has to look up at the ceiling to stop whatever obscene noise wants to escape her throat. But even looking away is no help. She can still feel Michaela’s presence, and she can hear the wet sounds beneath her. She looks back down, and Michaela is bobbing her head against her. She’s not looking up at Francesca anymore, and her eyes are closed, so Francesca figures that it’s safe to watch.
So she watches, and Michaela has never looked so pretty. Her lips are plump and tight as they suck her cock— strap. And she takes Francesca so effortlessly. Without realizing it, Francesca starts to grind her hips forward. She wants to push herself deeper into Michaela, and she wants Michaela to take it, and she wants to watch Michaela while she takes it.
Michaela opens her eyes and looks up. And fuck, if Francesca did have a cock, she’s sure she would’ve cum in Michaela’s mouth right there. She’d fill her throat, and Michaela would swallow every last drop, and then she’d get on the bed so Francesca could fuck her more.
“Fuck,” Francesca whispers out, not wanting Michaela to hear. But Michaela does hear, and she moans with Francesca’s cock buried in her throat, and the vibrations course through Francesca like shockwaves.
She rocks her hips more, and realizes that Michaela is barely even moving her own head anymore. She’s letting Francesca fuck her mouth, and so Francesca fucks her mouth. She’s forgotten why she’s even there anymore, locked into the trance that is watching her cock slide in and out of Michaela’s lips, over and over and over again.
Eventually, Michaela backs her head away.
“Most girls are going to expect you to fuck them at some point.”
“Oh, right,” Francesca says. “Sorry, I— I got distracted.”
“It’s okay,” Michaela says with a small smile.
She backs up onto the bed and Francesca follows behind her, not quite sure where to position herself. Ultimately, she decides to lay on her side next to Michaela while she awaits further instruction.
Michaela turns her head and looks at her.
“Alright. So, most girls will probably want a little more warm up before jumping straight to taking the strap. Fingers, tongue — you know the drill.”
She slides her shorts down while she’s talking, and she takes her panties with them. Francesca swallows. Michaela is lying completely nude beside her, at least from the waist down, and the knowledge burns deeply in her brain.
She thinks about Michaela’s words too. About using her tongue. She wonders how Michaela would taste, and whether she’d dig her fingers into her hair, pulling her face closer. She wonders how Michaela would sound, with her moans muffled while her thighs wrap around her head.
She doesn’t need to go down on Michaela. She’s gone down on women before, other women, so it doesn’t exactly fit the requirement of “practice.” But Francesca would be lying to herself if she said that she didn’t really, really, want to.
Then Michaela goes and shatters her dreams.
“Of course, I can just handle that myself. You don’t need any practice in that department.”
“Right. Of course,” Francesca agrees, feeling defeated.
The feeling doesn’t last long as she watches Michaela’s hand slide down her stomach. It dips between her legs, and Francesca can’t fully see what she’s doing, though she can imagine. Her hand moves in small, circular motions, and she pictures Michaela rubbing her clit. She wishes it were her own hand, so badly, and she wonders how wet Michaela is. The thought turns her on — if Michaela was wet, it was because of her, and sucking her cock. She prays to god that Michaela is as wet as she’s picturing.
Michaela’s hand descends further, and she lets out a low moan as she pushes a finger into herself. It could be multiple — Francesca can’t see. But she can listen, and what she hears is filthy. Michaela is wet, very much so, and Francesca can hear every plunge of her fingers in and out of herself. It’s captivating to listen to, and when she turns to look at Michaela’s face again, Michaela is already watching her.
A warmth spreads through Francesca’s body at the sight. Michaela looks so heavenly, with her eyes wide and dark, and her lips swollen and parted. Every breath that escapes her mouth is heavy and staggered, and Francesca is sure that there’s not a better sound in the world.
Michaela’s pace quickens. She keeps looking at Francesca, and Francesca keeps looking at her. It’s mesmerizing to see Michaela this way — if she looks like this when she’s fucking herself, Francesca can only imagine how incredible she looks when she’s actually coming undone. She wants to see it; she needs to see it. She needs more. She needs to touch Michaela.
Michaela withdraws her hand and lays it flat against her stomach. Two of her fingers are glistening, and Francesca bites her lip at the frustration that mounts when she realizes how badly she wants to take them into her mouth.
“That’s probably enough warming up,” Michaela says.
Before she can scare herself into silence, Francesca makes her move.
“I don’t think so, actually.”
“Oh?” Michaela asks, surprised.
“Yeah,” Francesca nods. “I mean, the strap is pretty big, and your fingers are pretty short. Mine, uh, mine are longer.”
“Oh,” Michaela says again, this time laced with some sort of realization.
She looks down at Francesca’s hand, and Francesca stretches her fingers out. Michaela opens her legs wider and looks up at Francesca’s face.
“Go on.”
Francesca moves slowly, giving time for Michaela to take back her words. But she doesn’t, so Francesca’s fingers push through the patch of curled hairs before finding the wet heat of Michaela’s core. They both gasp when her fingers make contact with Michaela’s clit, which Francesca starts to circle, slowly.
“God,” Michaela whispers.
She starts to grind her hips against Francesca’s fingers. With every thrust downward, Francesca’s fingers dip closer to Michaela’s entrance — collecting wet slick that eases her movements around her clit. With so little friction, Francesca can speed her fingers up, and she watches Michaela’s face twist with pleasure. It’s unequivocally addicting.
Finally, she lowers her fingers more, teasing Michaela’s entrance. Michaela tilts her hips upward, encouraging her to just slip her fingers inside, and Francesca can’t resist any longer. She slides in so easily, feeling Michaela’s tight grip around her until she’s knuckle-deep.
She pulls back almost fully, and then she buries herself again. And again, speeding up her pace until Michaela’s back is arching off the mattress. She curls her fingers inside, watching Michaela’s eyes widen as she brushes against the rough texture of her inner wall. She can’t stop, not when Michaela is looking at her like this.
“Fran, f-fuck,” she gasps out.
Hearing her name coming out of Michaela’s mouth — being moaned out of Michaela’s mouth — nearly drives Francesca to insanity. She needs to feel Michaela clench and spasm around her fingers; she needs it so, so badly. She doubles her efforts, hell-bent on taking Michaela over the edge. She needs it. But Michaela has other plans.
She feels Michaela’s hand cover her own.
“Mm, not yet, not yet. Use the strap now.”
Francesca groans in frustration, reluctant to pull her fingers out. But Michaela looks at her, so full of need.
“Now,” she repeats. “Francesca, fuck me with the strap now.”
Remembering the goal, Francesca listens this time. She takes her fingers out. Momentarily, she considers bringing them up to her mouth so that she can finally have her taste of Michaela, but then she looks at her strap beneath her and decides it’s better to spread the arousal along her length. She strokes herself carefully, and Michaela’s breath catches as she watches.
Once Francesca decides that her cock is wet enough, she settles between Michaela’s legs and lines herself up at her entrance. She glances up at Michaela’s face, and Michaela gives her a quick nod, which Francesca takes as permission to slowly push herself in.
Inch by inch, she slides herself inside. She can imagine how Michaela’s walls would squeeze tightly around her as she splits her open, and she can feel it too, moaning as she pushes deeper and deeper. Michaela is just as vocal, with her hand grasping at the sheets beneath her.
Once Francesca has bottomed out, she looks down. Michaela looks like she’s stuffed full, the deep blue of the strap completely disappearing inside of her. She starts to fuck Michaela slowly. It’s a little awkward to find the right positioning at first. Ultimately, she opts to brace her arms on either side of her body to support her weight. She doesn’t want to crush Michaela, after all.
She picks up speed once she feels more comfortable, watching Michaela’s face for any signs of what feels best. On one thrust, she sees Michaela’s eyes roll back, and so she shifts her angle to accommodate.
“Fuck, good, right there,” Michaela says.
She slides her hands under the straps of Francesca’s tank top, gripping tightly onto her shoulders. Her nails dig into Francesca’s back.
Michaela starts to buck up against her, and Francesca matches her pace, feeling the press of Michaela’s nails get harder and harder. She’s sure that there will be red indents on her skin tomorrow, and she preens at the thought. The thought of fucking Michaela so well that she has marks left on her body. And if Michaela is causing her any pain, it’s drowned out and muted. Francesca is far too enamored with the feeling of being inside of Michaela to register anything else.
And she can feel it. She really, really can. She’s sure of it. She feels a wave of pleasure every time she plunges inside of Michaela. Michaela would be so gloriously tight around her, and her walls would flutter and clench while Francesca fills her wholly. It’s her cock. She’s fucking Michaela with her cock, and it feels so, so good.
Francesca buries her face into Michaela’s neck. She inhales deeply, smelling the salt of Michaela’s skin, and her mouth waters, longing for a taste. It isn’t against the rules; she wouldn’t be kissing Michaela. At least, not on the lips. So she starts to kiss her neck.
She kisses, and she sucks, and she bites, and she licks. Michaela moans lowly, and Francesca feels a hand pushing at the back of her head, holding her in place while she continues to ravish her.
“S-so, fucking good, Franc-cesca,” she sighs.
“You feel so good,” Francesca says.
Michaela turns her head on the pillow, facing Francesca. They’re close enough for their foreheads to touch.
“Do I?”
“You do,” Francesca answers. She picks up her pace, and Michaela’s hand grips her jaw harshly. Her pinky finger slides into Francesca’s mouth, and Francesca closes her lips around it, sucking hard before releasing it with a pop.
Michaela groans loudly, and she’s so close, close enough for their noses to brush against each other.
“Are you going to make me cum, Francesca?”
“Yes,” Francesca breathes, barely an inch from Michaela’s mouth. “I want to make you cum, Michaela. Please, I need you to, please,” she begs between pants.
Michaela wraps her legs around Francesca’s waist, pulling her closer.
“Yeah?”
Their faces are so close together, every ragged breath mixing in what little air remains between them. On one stroke, their lips brush together, Francesca’s bottom lip catching against Michaela’s.
“Cum on my cock. Michaela, please,” Francesca whispers against Michaela’s lips.
Michaela’s body starts to shake, and her hand holds Francesca’s head in place so that she can watch her while she comes undone. Michaela’s face contorts with pleasure, her eyes rolling back and then fluttering open again, her jaw agape as she lets out a series of moans.
Francesca watches. She’s so close, she can see Michaela’s pupils, dark and dilated while they search her face. It feels so right to see her this way. This is exactly how they’re supposed to be.
She surges forward and crashes their lips together.
Michaela gasps at first, but she welcomes the kiss, opening her mouth instantly to allow Francesca access. They kiss sloppily, Michaela still riding through the waves of her orgasm, and Francesca still fucking her through each one. Francesca’s sure she feels her pleasure crest too. Their teeth clash, and their tongues touch, and Francesca swallows every single moan that comes out of Michaela’s pretty mouth.
Once finished, Michaela pulls back from the kiss. She doesn’t move too far, and a thin trail of saliva still connects their mouths for a few seconds after they separate. When it snaps, it dribbles onto Francesca’s chin, and Michaela wipes it away with her thumb.
Francesca is frozen in place. Her mind is hazy, barely able to process what’s just happened, but the one thing she does know is that she doesn’t want this to end.
“Fuck,” she whispers.
“I know,” Michaela says back.
She unwraps her legs, but Francesca stays inside of her a moment longer. She wants to stay there forever, inside of Michaela. It’s where she’s supposed to be, and she knows it. Inside of Michaela. The most perfect person she’s ever met, her best friend—
“Oh, fuck,” she says, her eyes widening as she snaps back to reality. “I, fuck, I’m sorry, Michaela. I got carried away at the end there. I didn’t mean to… to do all of that.”
She pulls out and lies flat on her back, creating a few inches of distance between them. Michaela turns her head towards her.
“It’s fine, Francesca. Don’t worry about it. Really.”
“Okay, okay. Good,” Francesca says, feeling better, but still wanting to do a bit more damage control.
“And that was good. Really good. Great, even. In terms of being informative, of course. Um, it was, it was very insightful. I learned a lot. It-it was a good experience. You’re a good friend.”
A brief flash of something crosses Michaela’s face, and Francesca isn’t sure what to make of it. It almost looks like disappointment, but it could be anything, really. It could be disappointment, or anger, or god forbid, disgust. But then Michaela plasters on a smile, and it’s gone.
“Yeah,” she says. “That’s what friends are for.”