Sassy butch. Toppy lesbo. Bull dyke.
I went by all of them.
It was an crisp mid winter evening, which meant that my wardrobe choices would have to be more strategic. Cute, femme, and cold, or butch, enigmatic, and comfortable? The latter it would be.
The skimpy skirts and busty crop tops would stay in the closet, unlike the rest of me. Tonight, butch Sarah was coming out. Tight-fitting 501s , black combat boots, and a buttery, freshly-polished leather jacket would complete the look. But I had no intentions to sticking to my traditional Catholic-school-girl Friday night dinner of fresh fish: tonight I wanted a quality aged and peppered summer sausage.
If I wanted to make the leather daddies question their affinity for cock, I’d really have to do it up, and well. I put on the tightest sports bra I owned, which practically acted as a binder for my DD tits. The long hair was slicked back and pinned up, revealing an undercut which gave the illusion of a fade with a pompadour