Girl on the Net

Sometimes I ask my Patreons for ideas for stories, and other times they drop me messages to make specific requests. Erotica is a weird thing, though, and so often when I try to write to one request, the story goes in a weird direction that I never really intended. This one was written with two things in mind: one, a message from someone asking for more stories involving two women; two, a shoutout I did for the hottest thing someone had ever said to them. What came out was not what I intended, but those two things in combination gave me a vivid fantasy about two women in love, using one of their exes like a sex doll, so I wrote this FFM erotica to get it out of my head and onto the page and (hopefully) into your pants, to tingle there delightfully…

FFM erotica – Using him like a sex doll

“I don’t like him, but we could use him.” She says it deadpan, like it’s nothing, but the way she says ‘use him’ gives me a thump of pleasure. Excitement. The fact that she doesn’t like him does the opposite of put me off: I like that she doesn’t like him. Her jealousy over my ex-lover serves only to highlight how much she wants me, and I cling to that with both hands, digging my fingernails into the delicious knowledge that she would fight him for me, if she had to.

She does not have to.

I miss him, but I do not love him. He represents a chapter of my life that is well and truly over: the time BH, Before Her. His eager, puppyish delight in fucking was a brief and necessary joy, but one that ran its course long before I finally decided to pack my things and leave. That doesn’t mean it was awful, just over. I still like him. He’s a good friend and a flattering companion – nothing brings my confidence up like a quick pint with him after work during which he tries to lean across the table to get closer to the scent of me, and makes occasional comments that imply he would devour me if he could. Besides, we knew each other for years even before we were lovers so his mind is a treasure-trove of long-forgotten nostalgia. We keep it alive by reminiscing, and if he wants to lust after me at the same time, why not?

“We could use him.”

Those words flash in the back of my mind for the next few days, getting brighter and brighter and brighter until I finally get up the courage to ask her what she means.

“I mean he’s still got a dick. We could use him: like a sex toy. An accessory. Like…” she looks to the ceiling, fishing for precision, before turning back to me, eyes bright and smirk firmly in place. “…like a doll.”

He arrives at the time we’ve dictated: 7pm on the dot. Precisely. It’s almost comical how eager he is for this. Seeing his grin as I open the door to him melts me a little and I wonder: is this cruel? Will this thing, which seemed fun when we were negotiating limits and boundaries and wants over text, turn out to have given him too much false hope? We’ve been pretty clear what we want: a dick, no more and no less. Just be here, get hard, and shut your fucking mouth. Accept the conditions for punishment if you try to play jazz with your role. Is that too cold, for someone I have this kind of history with?

“I’m here to provide you with a dick,” he begins, cutting through my worries with well-rehearsed clarity, “Show me where to go, then I’ll get hard and shut my mouth.”

He grins.

I should never have doubted him.

He is true to his word, which puts her at ease: from this point onward he barely exists. I show him to the bedroom and he doesn’t look around, greet her or do anything other than strip naked. She makes a conscious effort not to make eye contact with him – while he strips, she kisses me. Long and deep like she’s laying claim. I like that a lot. I can almost hear her thoughts, imagine her telling him to shut up and lie still.

She pulls back for a brief moment, with my face cupped tightly in her hands, and looks directly into my eyes.

“We’ve got a new toy to play with,” she tells me. “But it’s me you’re here to please.”

I tell her ‘yes’ and ‘I love you’ and I can’t work out if it’s because she needs to hear it or because I need to say it. He’s lying on the bed, and he cannot help but watch us, so when I take my t-shirt off I toss it casually over so it’s covering his face.

He doesn’t make a sound.

We fuck each other first – noisily and eagerly, the way we do when it’s Friday and there’s a lie-in planned tomorrow. She strips me with greedy pleasure, barely waiting until she’s unhooked my bra before one of my nipples is in her mouth. Yanking knickers to the side so she can bury her fingers in the wet slit of my cunt. Grinding her thumb into my clit until I gasp and giggle and beg her to slow down. All the while I’m biting, licking, stroking, digging my fingers into the flesh of her back.

When we tumble onto the bed, I feel his leg twitch next to me, but I block out the movement. If we’re going to fuck him like a sex doll, he needs to be far more doll-like than that. And besides, he’s our toy, and we’ll play with him when we’re ready. For now: pleasure. Soaring waves of it, as I press my face into the wetness of her cunt. She smells good and tastes even better, but the greatest part of all – for me – is her hand on the back of my head. Firm and solid, fingers splayed and entwined in my hair, gently tugging on it to guide my rhythm, or occasionally pressing down – hard and then harder – to tell me ‘yes, that’s it.’

I like it when she directs me.

“Grind,” she orders, jamming her shin up tight against the pulsing throb of my clit, and instinctively I find the perfect angle, that neat hard line of her tibia beneath naked flesh. I smear her in wetness, and she likes that, so I spit on her cunt and lap harder at her clit as I grind. I will not come like this, but I’ll nudge myself closer – taking steps down towards the very edge of orgasm, until I’m hovering so close to it that almost any new touches will get me there. She’s getting there already too, the muscles in her thighs tense as if she’s close, so I pause for a while – lowering the pressure on her clit, replacing hard tongue with soft wet lips to tease her downwards.

She whimpers.

“Fuck me,” she says, looking down at me with deliciously angry eyes. I look over to where our sex doll lies prone on the bed: his cock hard and ready to use. His face remains covered with the t-shirt, arms politely splayed by his sides. Unmoving, unseeing, willing and ready. I tear greedily into the foil packet of a condom with my teeth and roughly – quickly – cover his cock.

But enough about him.

She kneels up and we position ourselves on top of the dick we have borrowed for today. She holds it between thumb and forefinger then manouevres herself over it until the head hovers just at the entrance to her cunt. I grab the vibe from the table next to the bed, and crush myself up behind her – enjoying the sensation of my tits pressed hard against her back, and hers resting on the soft flesh of my left forearm as I hug her tightly to me. I’m in just the right place to bite her neck. Perfectly positioned to use the vibe on her clit with the same movements I’d use it on mine – slow circles building to rapid back-and-forth as she nears orgasm. The only difference this time is that I don’t need my left hand for a dildo, so I can use it instead to squeeze and stroke and pinch at her tits and nipples.

I could get used to this.

When she slides down onto the dick – our sex doll – she is silent. Completely silent. For a second I worry that she isn’t having fun, but then she grabs my hand and presses the vibe to just the right spot on the right-hand side of her clit.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” she asks. “Fuck me hard.”

I thrust. Shoving my hips against her arse and grinding against her – for her. Slow, gyrating thrusts which shove her forward and backward on the dick attached to the man who lies beneath her. She doesn’t ride, we don’t ride – we grind. Matching the rhythm of my clit-strokes with the vibe to the salsa-like movement of our hips. I squeeze her tightly, and she turns and moans – her lips soft against my ear and her noises stifled. Parceling out the proof of her joy as if she’s worried someone’s listening, and enjoying the way she feels.

Our sex doll.

It proves tricky to truly forget that he is real, and so I follow her lead: I muffle my words, whispering ‘fuck you’re so wet’ and ‘that’s it, fucking ride it’ as I grind her closer to climax. Her left thigh starts to tremble, that’s how I know she’s close, and so I use the arm that’s holding her tight to pull her up, lift her till she’s kneeling and the hard cock of our sex doll slips right out of her cunt.

She has just enough time to gasp a ‘fuck you’ at my cruelty before I’ve pushed her forward and adjusted my grip: fingers at the entrance to her cunt, one hand on her lower back, pressing her down so the hard, twitching cock of our sex doll is crushed up against her clit. I dropped the vibe: it’s gone. The thudding intensity would mean she’d come too quickly, and I don’t want her to come too hard on him. He’s our sex doll, not our third, so if anyone’s going to feel her orgasm it should be me: the one who matters.

The one who’s still a person.

The vibe echoes, muffled, from somewhere nearby on the bed, and our sex doll gives a brief but noticeable twitch of almost-annoyance. I don’t care: it’s my fingers that finish her off. There’s something too precious about her cunt-clenches as she comes, they definitely shouldn’t be wasted on a person-who-is-not. A mere sex doll. So I shuffle a little further down the rigid, tense legs of our doll until I have the leverage to really go to town on her cunt. Fuck it good and hard with my fingers, at the perfect angle, as she grinds her clit into the head of its dick.

I use our sex doll’s leg the way I used hers earlier – pressing the slit of my cunt onto the rigid angle of his shinbone so I can revel in the thudding pulse of my eager clit. As I slide my fingers in and out of her – slow but firm, at the perfect angle – I admire the way her hips buck as she grinds her clit to match my pace, and the swollen, wet beauty of her cunt ten seconds before she comes.

And then? Then!

Just as I’m starting to feel the twitches of her orgasm beginning, our sex doll decides to come to life. The grinding pressure of her sliding back and forth on the condom-clad head of his eager dick proves too much and he lets out a grunt, a sentence, and a crime worthy of pre-negotiated punishment:

“Unngh,” he says, “I’m gonna come all over your clit.”

It yanks me directly out of the moment, disoriented and confused, but she does not miss a single beat. As her cunt starts to spasm around my curled, firm fingers, she raises herself up on one arm and reaches out with the other hand to slap him – hard – in the face.

His body twitches beneath me, sending one more shudder of joy through the clit I’m grinding against his shinbone, and I know that as the love of my life comes good and hard on my hand, our sex doll has lost his t-shirt blindfold and is giving her a playful, wicked grin.