Slim Blonde Trannies Fuck Each Other with Huge Strapons and Anal Lube

Heather was twenty-four and done pretending she had come into the boutique for anything mild. The glass door had sealed behind her on a wash of cool air that smelled like leather and clean vanilla, and the walnut shelves glowed under little brass lamps as if the toys were jewelry. She still wore the slim black pants and pale silk blouse from a late client walkthrough, platinum hair slipping out of its loose wave, perky breasts shifting under the thin fabric every time she reached. She had one target. It sat on a stand at the end of the aisle: an oversized strapon, flesh-toned rubber gone obscene with raised veins, shaft so thick her fingers would not meet around it, head flared and heavy, the kind of toy that promised to rearrange whoever took it. Beside it stood a large bottle of thick anal lube, the label swearing the slick would cling instead of run.

She put her hand on the veined shaft.

Another hand closed over the same rubber at the same instant, warm fingers sliding between hers.

Heather looked up into a face as blonde as her own and sharper about the mouth. The woman was slim through the waist, long-legged, honey-blonde hair straight down her back, perky breasts pushing at a soft gray sweater, a short skirt high on smooth thighs. She did not let go.

“Greta,” she said, and her voice was low and amused. “Twenty-two. And I touched it first.”

“Heather. Twenty-four. And I don’t care who touched it first.” Heather’s pulse kicked hard behind her ribs. Greta’s clear green eyes dropped from her mouth to the open collar of her blouse and climbed back up without shame. “You have filthy taste.”

“So do you.” Greta’s thumb stroked one of the raised veins as if she were already imagining it inside someone. “I was going to buy this and the big bottle and go home and ride it until I couldn’t sit at work tomorrow. Cocktail shift at the bar on Ninth doesn’t care if I limp, but I do like an audience in my own head.”

Heather’s mouth went dry. She worked rooms and fabrics for a living, and she still felt the heat climb her throat like a hand. “I came in for the same reason. I like them huge. I like the stretch. I like being opened on something that doesn’t get tired and doesn’t ask me to be gentle.”

Greta’s smile turned mean in the best way. “You like using them, too.”

“I love using them.” Heather stepped closer until the stand was the only thing between their hips. The boutique hummed quietly around them, a clerk somewhere in the back, no one near enough to matter. “I love buckling a monster like this on and fucking someone until they’re sobbing and pushing back for more. I love watching lube shine on a thick shaft while it disappears. I was going to take this home and wish I had a pretty blonde bent over my bed.”

“Now you don’t have to wish.” Greta’s fingers tightened over Heather’s on the rubber. “I love being fucked with huge toys. I love fucking with them. I look at you and I already know how you’d sound with this in your ass. Slim little waist, those tits, that mouth. You’d take it. You’d beg.”

“You’d beg louder.” Heather let her gaze travel the length of Greta’s body and did not pretend she was being polite. “I’d hold your hips and feed you every inch. I’d make you tell me how full you were. I’d stroke that pretty cock while I did it.”

Greta’s breath caught, audible in the quiet aisle. Her eyes had gone dark. “Say that again.”

“I want to fuck you with this,” Heather said, clear and steady, because the want had already burned past flirtation into something she could taste. “And I want you to fuck me with it. Huge. Slow at first, then not slow at all. Thick lube everywhere. I want to feel you lose it.”

“Then stop fighting me for the toy and buy it with me.” Greta nodded at the bottle. “And that. All of it. I have a harness in my bag from a dare I never finished. You have an apartment, I bet. Stylish, I bet. Bed that can take a pounding.”

“Twelfth floor. Gray sheets. A view you won’t be looking at.” Heather finally let her hand slide, not away, but along Greta’s wrist, a touch that asked and answered at once. “Come home with me. Right now. If you want that. If you want me.”

“I want you,” Greta said, and the words landed hot. “I want your ass and your cock and your mouth, and I want this thing buried in both of us before the night’s over. Yes. I’m saying yes. Take me there.”

They bought the oversized veined strapon and the large bottle of thick anal lube without haggling, fingers brushing at the counter, neither of them looking away for long. In the elevator of Heather’s building Greta stood close enough that Heather could smell her perfume and the warmer scent under it. Neither of them touched yet. The restraint made it worse. By the time the apartment door shut, Heather’s hands were shaking with how badly she wanted them on skin.

The place was all low light and clean lines, a gray sofa, a wall of windows gone soft with city glow, a wide bed visible through the open bedroom door. Heather set the bag on the dresser. Greta dropped her own harness beside it, black straps coiled like a promise, and pulled a second huge shaft from the side pocket of her bag, not quite as veined as the new one but just as thick, just as obscene, the toy she had been too proud to leave at home.

“I wasn’t joking,” Greta said. “I came shopping ready to ruin myself. Now I get to ruin you, too.”

Heather turned, and the space between them vanished. “Tell me,” she said. “All of it. I want to hear exactly how you want to fuck me before I let you do it. And I’m going to tell you what I’m going to do to you. If any of it is too much, you say so and we stop. If you want it, you say yes and you don’t get to pretend later that you didn’t ask.”

“Yes,” Greta said immediately. She stepped in until their breasts brushed through silk and sweater. “I want you bent over that bed. I want the new one strapped to me, coated in so much of that thick lube it drips on your sheets. I want to spread you and push the head in slow so I can watch your hole fight it and then give. I want to sink the whole shaft until my hips hit your ass, and then I want to fuck you in long strokes, hard enough that you feel it in your stomach. I want my hand on your cock the whole time. I want to milk you while I pound your prostate. I want you coming on my fingers with that huge toy still buried in you, shaking, saying my name like you hate how good it is.”

Heather’s cock stirred hard against the front of her pants. She caught Greta’s face in both hands and kissed her, deep, filthy, tongues sliding, teeth catching a lower lip. Greta moaned into it and kissed back like she had been waiting all night to be allowed. When they broke, Heather’s voice was rough.

“Then I’m going to take my turn,” she said against Greta’s mouth. “I’m going to put you on your knees on my bed and rail you doggy-style with the other one, just as deep, just as mean. I’m going to hold your slim waist and slap my hips into you until the lube is everywhere and you’re dripping down your thighs. Then I’m going to flip you on your back, pin your legs wide, and fuck you missionary so I can see your face while that thick shaft stretches you. I’m going to stroke your cock and watch you lose it. I’m going to make you come from your ass, hard, all over your pretty stomach, and I’m not going to stop until you do.”

“God, yes.” Greta’s hands were already at Heather’s blouse, working buttons with impatient care. “That’s what I want. Fuck me senseless. Let me fuck you senseless. Don’t be sweet about it.”

“I won’t.”

They stripped each other slowly anyway, because the wanting deserved the look of it. Heather peeled the gray sweater up and off and found a pale lace bralette straining over Greta’s perky breasts, nipples already tight. She kissed the upper curve of one, then the other, then unhooked the lace and filled her hands with soft, warm weight, thumbs dragging over the peaks until Greta’s head tipped back. Greta shoved the silk blouse off Heather’s shoulders and groaned at the sight of her, slim and smooth, small high breasts, stomach flat, skin flushed from throat to navel. Pants and skirt came down together in a tangle at their ankles. Panties next, Heather’s black, Greta’s barely there, both dragged down to free cocks that were already thickening, already wet at the tips.

“Look at you,” Greta murmured, wrapping a hand around Heather’s shaft and stroking from base to head in a slow, tight pull. “Getting hard for me already. You’re going to feel so good in my fist while I fuck your ass.”

Heather answered by taking Greta in hand, feeling her swell and jump, velvet over heat, the pulse of her under her palm. They stood chest to chest and stroked each other while they kissed again, deeper, messier, hips rocking into the grip. Precum slicked their fingers. Heather broke the kiss only to reach for the bottle.

The lube was thick, exactly as promised, a heavy clear rope that coiled in her palm and clung to her skin. She coated the new veined shaft until it gleamed, working the slick into every raised vein, over the fat head, down to the base where the harness would sit. Greta buckled the straps around her slim hips with practiced hands, cinching them tight, the enormous rubber cock jutting from her body like it belonged there. Heather did the same with the second toy, her own harness snug, the heavy shaft bobbing, and Greta took the bottle and slathered it without mercy, palm twisting, excess lube dripping onto the rug in fat drops.

“More,” Heather said, and Greta obeyed, pumping another glossy handful over both toys until they shone and the air smelled faintly sweet and unmistakably of sex about to happen. Heather’s hole clenched at the sight of the thing strapped to Greta. Greta’s cock, bare above her harness, was fully hard now, flushed and leaking, and Heather’s matched it, aching, untouched for the moment and furious about it.

“Bed,” Greta said. “Now. I’m past the point where I can stand here and not be inside you.”

“Then get inside me.” Heather walked to the bed, glanced back once to be sure, and bent over the edge the way she had been told she would. She planted her feet, arched her slim back, and reached behind herself to spread her ass with both hands. “Lube me. Then fuck me. I want it. I’m asking.”

Greta’s slick fingers found her first, generous and thorough, pushing thick anal lube into her tight hole in slow circles, then deeper, two fingers, then three, opening her while Heather moaned into the gray sheets. The stretch burned sweet. Greta’s other hand stroked Heather’s cock in the same rhythm, and Heather’s knees nearly went.

“Ready?” Greta asked, the broad head of the veined strapon nudging, blunt and enormous, shining.

“Yes. Do it. Don’t tease me to death.”

Greta pushed.

The head breached in a slow, relentless pop of pressure that punched a broken sound out of Heather’s throat. Thick lube eased the way and still the toy was huge, veins dragging at her rim as Greta sank the first few inches and held, letting her adjust, one hand steady on her hip, the other still wrapped around her cock. Heather breathed, bore down, and felt herself open. Another inch. Another. The shaft filled her in a long, obscene glide until Greta’s hips met her ass and the whole length was seated, heavy and deep, pressing right where Heather needed it.

“Fuck,” Heather gasped. “You’re in. All of it. Move. Please move.”

Greta drew back in a long stroke, the veins catching, lube squelching loud in the quiet room, and drove in again, powerful, controlled, a full plunge that rocked Heather forward onto her elbows. She set a rhythm of deep strokes, not frantic yet, each one a complete withdrawal to the head and a complete return to the hilt. Heather’s ass tightened and fluttered around the invading rubber. Every thrust nudged her prostate and sent a bright shock up her spine into the cock Greta was stroking in counterpoint, fist tight, thumb smearing precum over the head.

“Listen to you,” Greta said, voice wrecked and proud. “Taking this huge thing like you were made for it. Your ass is swallowing every vein. You’re so tight I can feel you fighting me on the way out and begging on the way in. Stroke’s going to make you come, isn’t it? This fat toy in your hole and my hand on your cock. Say it.”

“Yes,” Heather moaned, pushing back to meet the next thrust, the wet slap of lubed hips against her ass filthy and perfect. “Fuck me harder. Stroke me. I can feel it in my cock every time you hit deep. Don’t stop. God, Greta, don’t stop.”

Greta stopped being careful. She planted her feet and fucked Heather in long, punishing strokes, the oversized shaft pistoning through heavy layers of anal lube, shine coating Heather’s rim and dripping down her taint onto the fist working her cock. The bed creaked. Heather’s perky breasts swayed under her. She clawed the sheets and took it, took all of it, the stretch burning into pure blinding pleasure, prostate milked on every plunge, cock throbbing in Greta’s slick grip. The pressure built low and vicious. Her balls drew up. She warned Greta with a cracked shout and then she was coming, hard, spilling over Greta’s fingers in thick pulses while the strapon stayed buried and grinding, wringing the orgasm out of her from both ends until her legs shook and her voice broke into nothing but Greta’s name.

Greta fucked her through it, slower at the end, kissing the sweat between her shoulder blades, still deep. When Heather sagged, oversensitive and grinning into the mattress, Greta eased out inch by inch. The veined shaft left her gaping and shining, a glossy strand of lube connecting toy to hole before it snapped. Heather’s cock twitched, spent and already interested again at the loss.

“Your turn,” Heather said, hoarse, standing on unsteady legs and turning Greta toward the bed with hands that had remembered their strength. “On your knees. I owe you a railing, and I pay my debts.”

Greta went eagerly, climbing onto the mattress, chest down, ass up, looking back over her shoulder with her honey-blonde hair stuck to her cheek and her cock hanging hard and flushed between her thighs. “Yes. Wreck me. I want that huge one. Lube me filthy first. I want to feel it drip.”

Heather coated her fingers and her shaft again, then worked the thick anal lube into Greta’s tight hole with the same ruthless generosity, opening her, slicking her deep, listening to the pretty curses spilling out of her mouth. When Greta was shining and pushing back onto three fingers, Heather lined up the heavy head and waited for the word.

“In,” Greta demanded. “Now. I want it. Fuck me.”

Heather drove in.

Greta’s ass took the thick shaft in a long, shaking slide, rim stretching pale around the invasion before swallowing it, lube squelching, her moan going high and broken as Heather bottomed out and held her there, hips flush to slim curves. Heather gave her three breaths and then started to move, equal force, no mercy she had not already been given. She gripped Greta’s narrow waist and railed her doggy-style, deep powerful strokes that slapped loud and wet, the huge toy gliding through heavy lube, veins or the smooth cruel thickness of it dragging over Greta’s prostate on every pass. Greta’s perky breasts pressed into the sheets. Her cock swung and leaked, smearing the gray linen. She shoved back to meet each thrust, greedy, voice cracking.

“Harder. Heather, harder, it’s so fucking deep, I can feel every inch, don’t you dare go gentle on me now.”

“I’m not.” Heather leaned over her, one hand sliding under to wrap Greta’s cock, stroking in time with the pounding, fist tight and slick with lube and precum. “Take it. Take this huge cock in your ass and come for me when I put you on your back. Not yet. You hold it. You feel it.”

She fucked her like that until Greta was babbling, hole fluttering, thighs trembling, the thick toy shining each time it pulled nearly free and plunged home again. Then Heather pulled out, the sudden emptiness dragging a wounded sound from Greta’s throat, and flipped her with both hands, strong and sure. Greta landed on her back in the middle of the bed, hair fanned, chest heaving, cock standing rigid against her stomach, ass slick and open and shining.

“Legs,” Heather said.

Greta spread them wide without being asked twice. Heather caught her behind the knees and pinned them up and out, folding her, opening her completely, the glistening hole on display and clenching around nothing. She notched the lubed head and sank back in with one long thrust that made both of them cry out. Missionary now, deep and relentless, Heather’s hips snapping, the huge strapon pounding into Greta while Heather watched her face come apart. She kept Greta’s legs pinned wide, using the leverage to drive every inch home, thick lube frothing faintly at the rim, the wet sound obscene, the bed knocking the wall.

“Look at me,” Heather ordered, stroking Greta’s cock with her free hand, fast and tight, thumb working the sensitive head. “You’re taking it so deep I can see it in your stomach when I push. This huge toy is milking you. You’re going to come on it. Give it to me. Come while I fuck your ass.”

“Yes, yes, fuck, I’m—” Greta’s voice shattered. Her hole clamped down hard around the thrusting shaft, rhythmic, desperate, and she came in heavy stripes across her own slim stomach and perky breasts, cock pulsing in Heather’s fist, prostate wrung by the pounding until she was shaking and swearing and still pushing up for more. Heather did not stop. She fucked her through the climax in deep, grinding strokes, lube and cum and sweat everywhere, Greta’s moans loud and wrecked and honest, legs trembling in Heather’s grip, another weaker pulse spilling from her cock as the toy kept working that spot inside her.

Only when Greta slapped a weak hand against Heather’s arm, laughing and gasping that she was finished, done, ruined, did Heather slow and pull out. The glistening strapon slid free with a lewd wet sound, leaving Greta open, shining, a trickle of thick anal lube sliding down onto the sheets. Heather’s own toy and the veined one strapped to Greta were both coated, both obscene, both used. She unbuckled with clumsy fingers. Greta did the same. The huge rubber shafts hit the mattress, gleaming, streaked, dripping.

They were a mess. Lube on their thighs, cum on Greta’s chest and Heather’s hand, sweat on their smooth stomachs, mouths swollen from kissing and moaning. Heather looked at the wreck of the pretty blonde under her and felt her spent cock twitch with mean, renewed hunger.

Greta dragged her down by the hair and kissed her filthy, tongues sliding through the taste of sweat and sex, not soft, not careful, biting Heather’s lip until it stung. “Regular nights,” she said against her mouth, breathless and crude. “You and me. This bed. Even bigger toys than these. I’m buying the next size up and I’m going to split you open on it until you cry and come again. You’re going to do the same to me. No gentle bullshit. Just huge strapons and enough thick lube to drown in, and your cock in my fist while I wreck your hole.”

Heather shoved two slick fingers back into Greta’s stretched, shining ass and curled them, watching her jerk and moan like she had not just finished. “Deal. Now get that veined monster back in me before the lube goes cold. I want to feel you fuck another load out of my cock, and I want it messy.”

Greta’s grin was all teeth. She grabbed the oversized shaft, still dripping, and pressed the fat lubed head to Heather’s hole like she meant to live there. “Open up, then. I’m not done stretching this ass, and you’re going to take every filthy inch until you’re leaking down my wrist and begging for the bigger one.”