I’ve always liked guys. Don’t get me wrong. I am most certainly not a lesbian, at least not a strict lesbian. But recent events have made me realize that, at the very least, I’m strongly bisexual. I’ve hidden my attraction for women for a long time, keeping these feelings under tight lock and key. Only once did I try to tell my husband about them but I told my story badly and I don’t think he really believed what I was saying. I never mentioned them again until that fateful night Sharon stopped by and wanted to get drunk with me. Sharon left that night with more than a skinful of booze.
Sharon. How I’d admired her body for so long, ever since the day I’d first laid eyes on her our first week in the new house. She never knew how many times I peered out the miniblinds of our living room window, which overlooked their backyard, watching her tan herself on a towel on their deck, wearing nothing but her bikini. She never knew how I stared at her beautiful skin basking in the sun and dreamed of running my tongue over it. She never knew how I would put my fingers inside my shorts on these occasions and rub my pussy while I stared at her, bringing myself to a sharp, powerful orgasm. She never knew how many times, while my husband was skillfully eating my pussy, I fantasized it was her tongue, her lips caressing my vagina and sucking my clit. I never dreamed that one day I would get to fulfill this fantasy. Neither Sharon, nor my husband, will probably ever know what it is that attracts me to her so strongly. Sharon looks like an older version of Cindy Casset, the first girl I ever made love to, the only girl I’d ever made love to before Sharon herself.
Cindy wasn’t the first girl I’d been attracted to, of course. I knew I had feelings for my fellow females from about the age of thirteen or so. I used to steal my father’s Playboys and sneak them into my room at night where I would masturbate to the images of the models. I would dream of kissing them, caressing them, and later, eating them. I would also just as regularly masturbate to the images of rock stars and actors. David Lee Roth and Tom Selleck were two of my favorites. I never considered myself abnormal because of my equally horny feelings towards males, but I did always feel a sense of guilt after I’d rubbed off while thinking about a female. As I got older I tried more and more to put my homosexual feelings behind me, to tell myself it was wrong. But when I saw another girl going to the bathroom in front of me or undressing in front of me, it almost never failed to excite me. I would almost always find myself thinking about what I’d seen the next time my hand crept between my legs in the privacy of my room at night.
Outwardly, I never showed any signs of what was going on inside me. As I got older I began experimenting with heterosexual contact, as all girls do. By the age of fifteen, Bobby Salmon had felt my tits under my shirt. It was nice, though kind of rough and fumbling. By sixteen Chris Walker had gotten his fingers under my skirt one night on a date and finger banged me. It felt okay but he didn’t really know what he was doing and I never came close to orgasm. I jacked him off to orgasm afterward and he really seemed to enjoy that, as did I. The sensation of his semen spurting all over my hand coupled with the blissful, almost exalted look on his face was incredible, and it gave me such a feeling of power. Several weeks later Chris took my virginity in the back of his father’s Buick at the local lover’s lane. It hurt like hell and only lasted about a minute. It was also a spontaneous act, done without protection of any sort and I sweated out the next three weeks until my period, worrying and wondering how I was going to tell my parents I was pregnant.
After that scare I let no more cocks into my vagina for a while. I dated now and then and let boys feel me up. I learned to suck their cocks and give excellent handjobs. I even let one of them eat my pussy (a worse pussy eating I’ve never encountered), but I was taking no chances on pregnancy. I would not have actual intercourse again until shortly after my high school graduation, when I though I was in love for the first time and when I made sure he was wearing a rubber.
When I was seventeen and a junior in high school, I began hanging out with Cindy. She was a sophomore and very shy and I’d been friends with her for more than a month before my mind informed me the reason I’d initiated the friendship had been due to a powerful attraction to her. She was petite and beautiful but so shy that the boys paid her scant attention. Her nose was continually in a book of some sort, her hair usually in disarray, her makeup nonexistent. I took her under my wing and taught her the finer points of fashion and cosmetology. I remember trying on clothes with her in my room and keeping half an eye on her alluring body as she stripped down to panties to try on the next outfit. I remember my most powerful orgasms brought by my hand were with her body in my mind.
The day I made love to her is locked forever in my mind. I dragged her to a party at an abandoned river dock. The Friday night parties there were legendary among our high school alumni and several others. There was usually a keg there where, for three dollars, you could drink as much as you wished. There was also always some group of guys willing to share their pot with you. That night we did both, drinking eight or ten large glasses of beer and smoking several joints with some guy friends of mine. They tried to convince us both to give up a little pussy for them but we politely declined.
We left the party about 10:30 that night, driving toward my house in my battered six-year old Toyota Corolla. I most definitely should not have been driving but when you’re a teenager such things simply don’t carry the same weight as they do when you’re an adult. Fate was kind to us, however, and we arrived safely at my house shortly before eleven, both of us weaving and giggling our way into the house.
Now I should mention that my parents and my older brother were not at home that night. My older brother was away at college. My parents were in Los Angeles for an annual benefit dinner at my Dad’s company, something they went to every year. This was only the second year they’d trusted me enough to remain home alone for the three days they were gone instead of shipping me to my grandmother’s. I was ripe with freedom and hornier than I ever remembered being in my life. As alcohol tends to do, my better judgment was out the window. As marijuana tends to do, my libido was in overdrive. I’d spent the entire night looking furtively at Cindy’s body and wondering if there was any way she would allow me to access it. I wanted her so badly it was almost painful.
Cindy, who was inexperienced in the manners of drunkenness, tripped and fell to her face. I picked her up and made a big show of brushing off her clothes, feeling my hands glide over the swell of her small tits, feeling my palm stroking the bare flesh of her pretty legs. She burped drunkenly and then thanked me, not noticing the flush of excitement that the contact with her body had given me, not knowing how I’d memorized the sensation of my hand touching her springy, cotton covered tits. How I’d restrained myself from squeezing them right then, I’ll never know.
We sat and watched television for a few minutes, each of us sipping out of a can of my daddy’s beer I’d liberated from the refrigerator. Our drunkenness increased and I felt my pussy actually dripping moisture as I stole glances at my friend and envisioned rubbing my naked body against hers. How could I get her clothes off her? Thoughts of how she might react if I hit on her stayed in the back of my mind while the front was occupied only with stripping and getting my hands on her. Finally, an idea occurred to me.
“Cindy,” I said, “let’s go get in the hot tub and soak for a while. It feels great on nights like this.” My father had purchased the hot tub about two years before and I was speaking the truth when I told her it felt great on warm Seattle summer nights.
“I can’t,” she said, giggling a little. “I don’t have my suit with me. You should’ve told me earlier and I would have brought it.”
I scoffed at her. “C’mon Cind, we can just strip down and get in. No one else is home and the backyard is private.”
“You mean… get naked?” she asked, eyes wide.
“Why not?” I returned, not mentioning the fact I had at least three bathing suits up in my room that would fit her. “I’ve seen you naked before. It’s just us girls.” I winked. “Besides, it feels good to be in there naked. It’s sensual.”
She laughed tipsily, standing up. “What good does it do to feel sensual when there’s just us two here?”
What good indeed, I didn’t say. She did, however, seem to like the idea. This gave me hope and made me wetter. I stood and headed for the sliding glass doors that marked the entrance to the backyard and the redwood deck that contained the hot tub. She followed me.
I was out of my clothes in less than a minute. My shorts, socks, shoes, shirt, and bra became an unruly pile next to the door. I stood naked before her, hoping I didn’t have actual juices running down my legs. I was cognizant of the odor of my excitement rising into the air around me and of the rock hard state of my nipples. I turned to her. She was still standing there, having done nothing more than remove her shoes and socks. Her eyes showed hesitation.
“Are you sure no one can see in your back yard?” she asked timidly.
“Positive,” I assured her, feeling giddy as I thought about watching her disrobe. “We have a seven foot fence covered with ivy and privacy bushes lining the whole thing. There is absolutely no line of sight from anywhere into the backyard.” I smiled. “C’mon. I go out there naked all the time. Whenever it’s nice and my parents aren’t home. It’s safe.”
“Well…” She hesitated a moment more. “Okay. If you’re sure it’s safe.”
With that she began to disrobe. She pulled her T-shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor. Her shorts came next, revealing a pair of sparkling white, conservative panties. A quick flash of her arms and the bra was on the floor, baring her tiny titties. Her nipples, I noticed, were standing out as were mine. I longed to put my mouth on them and suck them until she screamed. At last she slid the panties down her legs, baring her sparse growth of black pubic hair and just the hint of the velvet lips between them. I tried not to stare at her, succeeding for the most part. I had a lot of practice pretending I wasn’t watching a naked female.
“Let’s do it,” I said, stepping through the doorway, and, of course, meaning more than one thing with my words.
We walked naked out onto the redwood deck, feeling the humid summer air on our flesh. I lifted up the cover on the hot tub and pushed it back, letting a cloud of steam out into the air. While Cindy ran her hand through the hot water I walked over to the control panel and flipped the switches for the lights and the jets. The water lit up with white light and began roiling and bubbling.
I walked back over to the tub, catching a good view of Cindy’s beautiful ass. I slapped her lightly there as I climbed up the steps, relishing the feel of those firm cheeks beneath my hand. “Hop in,” I told her, hauling myself to the edge and inserting my legs.
The water was hot, stinging, but not as hot as I was as I watched the object of my desire drag herself up and put her own legs in. She sat across from me, unwittingly allowing me a view of her vagina as she got her skin used to the temperature. It was a beautiful pussy because it was real. It was much better than those I’d seen in daddy’s Playboys.
I eased myself down into the water, feeling its heat caress me and allowing my eyes to sink to the level of the object I wanted to kiss with all of my heart. I think Cindy caught me staring at her slit because she immediately sank down into the water too, a strange, uncertain expression on her face. When we were both used to the water I slid around the circular bench until I was next to her. I felt the edge of my naked thigh contact her smooth skin and I resisted an urge to drop my hands between my legs and start rubbing myself.
She looked at me curiously as I slid around to her, no doubt wondering why I’d done that. “This is the best view this time of year,” I told her, peering at the stars in the sky. “Look there, that’s Jupiter and there’s Saturn. Those two bright points.”
“Oh,” she nodded, a little uncomfortable. “I can see them.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes, staring at the sky, she lost in thoughts of her own, and me enjoying the contact of my thigh against hers and hoping for more. Finally she told me what was on her mind.
“Laura,” she said quietly. “That Doug Puma is kind of cute, don’t you think?”
“Dougie?” I asked, knowing instantly whom she was referring to. “Sure he’s cute. He’s a football player.”
“He was flirting with me a lot tonight,” she told me.
I snorted. “I’d stay away from Dougie if I were you. He’s only interested in getting you naked and fucking you.”
“He is?” she asked, obviously not sure how to feel about that. That she was a virgin was something I knew and that she thought herself unworthy of most guys was something I’d intuited.
“Oh he’d fuck you all right,” I told her. “You’re pretty and have a nice body. He’d fuck you in a minute if you offered. But then you’d never hear from him again and everyone in school would know every detail of what you’d done.”
“He would tell people?” She seemed shocked.
“Of course he would,” I laughed. “Most guys will. They can’t keep their friggin’ mouths shut to save their lives. If it came down to keeping it a secret and getting all the pussy they wanted and telling their friends and having it cut off, most of them will take having it cut off. They can’t help it. They just have to share their conquests. Guys are so flippin’ stupid sometimes.”
“Well, what do you do about that?” she asked. “How do you have sex with someone without anyone ever finding out about it?”
“With guys,” I replied, “you can’t. If you decide to sleep with a guy you have to do so with the knowledge that everyone will know by the next day.” I shook my head. “Sad but true. When I did Chris Walker that time I was the talk of the school until the next time some poor girl decided to fuck someone. He was even telling people that I’d been a virgin and that I’d bled all over his Dad’s car seats. He was telling people how tight I was and how he’d barely gotten it in. He didn’t mention, however, how the entire thing could have taken place while I’d been holding my breath. If you do it too many times, your reputation is shot.”
“Guys are such slime,” she proclaimed. “Haven’t you ever done it without everyone knowing?”
I shook my head. “It can’t be done,” I assured her. “And it’s a pity. If guys would just learn not to talk about it, they’d get it all the time. Take me for instance. I’m so horny right now I’d fuck a table leg. If I knew one of those guys at the party would give me what I need and not blab about it the next day, I would’ve given it up. As it stands now, though, I didn’t even consider it. My reputation couldn’t take it.”
“So what do you do?” she asked innocently. “I’m still a virgin and I want to have sex. Sometimes it’s all I can think about. How do you take care of it without getting a reputation?”
I shrugged. “There’s a few ways,” I said slyly. “Some girls go for older guys, much older.”
“You mean… ?”
“Right,” I nodded, sliding my leg a little more firmly against hers. “There are a lot of twenty year olds out there just dying to get their hands on a high school girl. And they have reason to keep their mouths shut afterward since it can get them thrown in jail.”
“You don’t do that, do you?” she asked me, wide eyed.
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I’ve been tempted before but you still have the problem of pregnancy and VD and all that. Once again, they’re just out for the puss. But there are other ways too.”
I smiled. “Well, one of them takes a lot of batteries.”
“Masturbation?” She seemed shocked, too much so I would say. “You don’t do that do you?”
“Of course I do,” I told her, grinning, moving my leg even closer to hers. “And don’t even try to tell me you don’t. I’d be willing to bet anything that you’ve rubbed yourself off before.”
“Never!” she protested, again too strongly. “That’s… that’s perverted!”
“Is it?” I said, shrugging. “I never thought too much about it. But when you get horny and you don’t have any other outlet there’s only one thing you can do. You can stick your hand between your legs and rub until you come.” I looked at her. “And let me tell you something, of all the orgasms I’ve had in my life, all of them have come from my own hand. Not even once has a guy made me come.”
“Never,” I reiterated. “You see, guys our age are clumsy, they don’t have the slightest idea what they’re doing when it comes to sex. They’ll finger your pussy so hard it feels like they stuck a mixer up there. When they fuck you it hurts and they come so fast you don’t even have a chance to get into it. Even when they eat you, they lap at it a few times before they climb on top and start rutting like a dog.”
She seemed to think about this for a minute, her face showing an expression of concentration. “That’s pretty depressing,” she finally said.
I nodded, sliding my leg a little, feeling her smooth feminine flesh on mine. “So if you want to come you can either rub yourself off or…”
“Or what?” she asked.
I smiled seductively. “Or,” I whispered, dropping my hand to her upper thigh under the water and stroking upward a little, “sometimes girls just have to make their own fun.”
“Laura!” she exclaimed, wide-eyed and shocked. But she didn’t move my hand.
“Think about it, Cindy,” I told her, sliding my hand upward, trailing up her thigh until my knuckles felt the kinky snarl of her pubic hair. In my chest my heart was hammering. I could not believe I was actually touching her this way, after all this time, after all this desire. “Who knows how a girl feels but another girl? A girl knows not to pinch or squeeze.” The back of my hand reached the lips of her pussy. They were soft and her legs, despite her protests, opened for me. “A girl knows where to caress and where not to. A girl knows how much pressure to put on things.”
I turned my hand around so my fingers were now sliding between the lips of her slit. I stroked up and down lightly in a way I knew would feel good. I’d never been so sexually excited in my entire life. Cindy was staring at my face, her eyes confused but full of lust and desire. She did not try to push my hand away. She did not close her legs-in fact she opened them wider. My middle finger penetrated her, sliding between her velvet lips. Her muscles welcomed the intrusion, clenching my digit. Her breathing became quicker.
“And a girl,” I continued, “doesn’t go around telling other people what she’s done. Two girls can pleasure each other all night if they wanted to and no one else would ever know about it, would they?”
She stared, opened mouthed. Her tongue reached out and licked her lips.
“Would they?” I repeated, pushing my finger in further, loving the feel of her pussy around my flesh.
“No,” she finally whispered.
“Your pussy feels nice on my hand,” I told her, sliding it in and out slowly, using my thumb to massage just under her clit. Her hips rose up to meet me as she groaned a little.
I put my arm, the one that didn’t contain the hand in her pussy, around her shoulders. I pulled her to me, floating her easily upward beneath the water until she was sitting on my lap. Her naked buttocks pressed against my thigh and I began to finger-fuck her with more speed.
“Ohhh,” she whined in a high-pitched voice. She was nervous and confused. That was obvious. But what I was doing to her felt too good for her to try and stop me.
I put my lips to the side of her neck and started licking her flesh. My tongue tasted the nervous, salty tang of her sweat. I licked downward, lapping at her shoulder and the muscles beneath it, giving light sucks. I dropped a hand to her breast, cupping the firm, tender flesh and squeezing lightly. I tweaked her nipple, applying pressure in just the right amount and she pushed her chest into my hand. Her hips were now meeting each of my finger thrusts halfway. Even under the water I could feel that she was very wet.
With the hand that was cupping her tit I pulled backwards, bending her a little and forcing her tits out of the water. I looked at her nipples again. They, like her tits, were tiny, barely larger than peas, but they were erect and heaving and the most appetizing things I’d ever seen before. I lowered my mouth, which involved an uncomfortable twisting of my neck, and took the closest one between my lips, suckling it. I slurped at it like a baby, sucking and teasing, swirling my tongue around the perimeter.
Cindy liked this a lot. She pulled me closer, putting her arms around my body for the first time, and running her fingers through my hair. “Oh Laura,” she moaned. “That feels so good.”
I knew then that she was mine, that I could do with her as I pleased.
I pushed her off me. “Sit on the edge of the tub,” I told her.
“What?” she breathed, her face flushed.
“I’m gonna eat your pussy,” I told her. “Sit up there.”
I grabbed her ass cheeks, giving their firmness a loving caress and pushed upwards. She rose out of the water, dripping it down upon my face and sat on the edge of the tub. The air made her skin break out in goose flesh but she spread her legs for me as I twisted around to face the object of my lust.
I took her legs in hand and placed them on my shoulders while I stared at her pussy. Her pubic hair was wet from the tub, darker than usual, with rivulets of water running down onto the deck. Her lips were swollen, her clit protruding. I was beside myself with lust. After all those years of envisioning such a thing, after all of those Playboys and glances in bathrooms I was now looking at a pussy that was spread and waiting for my eager lips and tongue to assault. The thing I’d dreamed of. The thing I’d rubbed myself off hundreds of times just thinking about.
I felt my own self panting as I soaked in the view. Laura looked down at me.
“C’mon,” she told me. “You want to do it, then do it, you fuckin’ lezzie!”
“Ohhhhh,” I moaned, pushing my face forward.
Her odor was almost non-existent thanks to the tub of water we were in. Years later, when I would bury my face between Sharon’s beautiful lips, the sharpness of the smell and the tartness of the taste would surprise me. But Cindy was nothing more than a slick softness tinged by the faint taste of chlorine from the water. Her lips were slippery as I slid my tongue into her, her clit hard and unyielding but there was no taste except from the spa water. I drove my tongue inside, slurping and sucking at her, feeling her legs clench around my back.
“Laurrrrrrra,” she cried in ecstasy. “Ohhhhh God, oohhhhhh ooooooh.”
I did everything to her I’d always envisioned being done to me. I licked, I slurped, and I plunged my tongue in and out. I sucked her lips between my teeth. I even dove down and ran my pointed tongue between the cheeks of her ass to her anus, licking it.
She was an enthusiastic participant in these actions. Her hips bucked into my face. Her clit swelled up until it was nearly the size of her nipples. Her hands reached down and began feeling my tits, which were larger than hers, capped with erect and almost painful nipples.
I went after her clit. First I stabbed at it now and then with my tongue until she was begging me to do more. I then took it between my lips and started to suck on it. She went wild, laying back on the deck and slamming her hips and pelvis into my face. She whined and moaned loudly as I attacked it, applying a constant pressure while I rammed two fingers up her cunt, snapping through her maidenhead so fast she didn’t even notice it.
There was now blood on my face but this didn’t stop me. I continued sucking on her as her entire body tensed up as if she were in seizure. She cried out for nearly a half a minute when she came, her legs pulling me tight against her.
When she relaxed I pulled myself out of the water, sliding my wet body atop hers. I felt my nipples rubbing against her spread thighs, against her smooth stomach, across her tits. I rubbed my chest against hers and lowered my face to her mouth. I shot my tongue between her lips and she kissed back, sucking on my tongue and lips, our mouths sliding wetly against one another.
Our legs twisted around until our pussies were mashing together. I rubbed my steamy slit against her, feeling the heat and wetness, the pressure sending waves of pleasure into my belly. My hard clit moved between her soaked lips and through the coarse dampness of her pussy hair. Her velvet legs slid against mine. Our kiss became frantic, breaking only so she could attach her lips to my neck.
“Oh Laura,” she panted, her hands squeezing my ass. “What are we doing? This is sick.”
“No it’s not,” I told her, lowering my mouth to her nipple again and sucking.
“Ohhh,” she moaned.
Her hand trailed off my ass and along the side of my hip, finally reaching between us. I felt her probing through my thick snarl of hair and finally encountering my puss. I was very wet and her fingers in me felt heavenly. But I wanted more.
“Oh, Cindy,” I said, planting kisses on her face, her cheeks, her eyes. “Please eat me. I want to feel your tongue in me so bad. I NEEEEEED to come.”
“Come on,” Cindy ordered, putting her hands in my armpits and pulling me upward. “Do it now before I lose my nerve.”
I slid my pelvis along her skin, passing over her stomach and her tits until I was hovering just over her face. Her hands reached up and pulled me down and I felt a wet, warm tongue sliding into me. I’d never felt anything like it (and never would again until I met my husband and he went down on me for the first time). She stabbed inside, caressing my interior before sucking and slurping my clit. I rubbed myself back and forth until she took my clit between her lips.
It was if an explosion had gone off inside me. Waves of pleasure spread through my body, rising and falling but getting bigger each time until I was mashing myself against her every half second and the most intense orgasm of my life was exploding out of me, making me yell out into the quiet night.
Less than ten minutes later we were dressed and looking sheepishly at each other. I drove her home and we said no more than ten words to each other on the way. She didn’t call me or return my calls the rest of the weekend. When we went back to school on Monday, she avoided me like the plague. She never told a soul about what had happened between us but she never hung out with me again. For a few brief moments of pleasure, I lost a friend. When we graduated from high school she went to college in Wisconsin and I never heard from her or talked to her again.
This episode taught me something about the price of these sorts of relationships. I vowed I would bury that part of my personality and never let it resurface. I succeeded by half.
Though I would never touch another woman in a sexual way until Sharon, I would never be able to stop thinking about the softness of a woman’s touch, about the knowing lick of a woman’s tongue, about the velvet feel of a woman’s body.
In the meantime I still had men to think about. I do enjoy the company of men and the feel of male bodies atop me and thrusting within me. I had several successful sexual relationships with members of the opposite sex, including one relationship in college that nearly resulted in marriage.
I acquired a BA in nursing and went to work at the local trauma center, finding my niche in the field of emergency medicine. I worked for four years as an ER nurse, having multiple relationships with men but none with women. But still I would find myself glancing at my fellow female nurses when we dressed in the locker room at the beginning and ends of shifts, I would find their images in my mind on occasion as my hand crept between my legs in the dead of night. Several times I was tempted to make overt moves towards these women, to try and get them in my bed, but each time the image of Cindy and the price of that relationship would prevent any further action.
I joined the Life-Flight team after five years, becoming a trauma nurse on the helicopter. There I became enraptured by a kind, sweet, gentle man who flew the chopper on my shift. We began dating and I fell in love, genuine love I might add, with him. I also discovered his obsession and skill with cunnilingus.
We married and had two children. Our marriage was and is happy, our sex life satisfactory. Except for the one botched time I tried to tell him about my feelings for women, I kept this part of my life under control until the night Sharon came over, pissed at her husband, horny, and wanting to vent.
One thing led to another (aided by lots of Chardonnay) and soon I found myself orchestrating a threesome between Sharon, my husband, and me. I ate her pussy, sucking my husband’s seed out of it, and made her eat me. It was feared, at the end of the encounter, that Sharon would become pregnant by my husband since it was her fertile period, but that turned out not to be the case.
Sharon would not become pregnant for another eight months and she would never have a meaningful conversation with either my husband or me again. She would not even face us later, so deep was her shame. She never told her husband about what had happened based on the fact that Tom would still prattle on to my husband about his landscaping or his Ford or some other useless subject but Sharon would forever be distant with us.
As for my husband and I, we would learn to live with what had happened. A long talk the morning after the Sharon incident cleared up the matter. I told him I had no ill feelings for him for participating in my orchestration the night before. After all, what man could resist such a thing? I told him my complete lesbian history and assured him that I had been drunk and that nothing of the sort would ever happen again. He took this well. After all, such a thing is a once in a lifetime opportunity and a man would be foolish to expect it to be repeated.
We went on with our marriage without any ill effects from the incident save the loss of Sharon as a friend.
It’s been two years now and I’ve kept my feelings under control. I love my husband, I love his body and I fuck him whenever I feel horny, usually to my satisfaction. I still crave women and I’ve accepted that I always will. I’ve always managed to keep these feelings under control.
And then two weeks ago my husband hired Chrissie as a babysitter. She’s the eighteen-year-old daughter of our neighbors across the street and she looks an awful lot like Cindy. Too much like her.