Climax

I came home on such a high that night.  I walked in the door with a smile on my face.  He greeted me and I unzipped my pants.  As he slipped his hand down into my panties I said, “I had a really good time.”

“I can tell,” he replied with a wicked gleam in his eye.

In an instant we were naked together in bed.  He didn’t need to spend any time getting me ready, she had already taken care of that.  He climbed on top of me and entered my wet and ready pussy.

“Do you like that she did that to me?” I whispered into his ear.

“Yes,” he replied, with a noticeable shake in his voice.

As he fucked me I breathlessly recounted my evening with Tori.  How she kissed me, grabbed my hair, bit my neck, pinched my nipples.

Then he laid down and I climbed on top of him.  I enjoyed fucking him while conjuring up images of her in my head.  We came at almost the same time.  I collapsed next to him, knowing I was the luckiest woman on the planet.  I got a mind-blowing date with an amazing girl and phenomenal sex with the husband I love all in one night.

I came back upstairs to find a text from her waiting for me.  It said, “Thanks 4 a great night,” and was accompanied by a picture of us kissing that she’d snapped earlier in the evening.  That message was the cherry on top of one of the best nights I’ve ever had.

A shift in my reality

I don’t even know where to begin to tell the story of my date with Tori.  Pieces of the night swirl around in my head so that to write it from beginning to end would feel contrived and strange.

I remember:

How exhilarating it was to be walking hand in hand with her in the dark.
Cupping her face in my hands as I kissed her.
Her hands gripping me, trying to touch as much of me as she could.
The feel of her nails running up and down my arms.
Laughing at the ridiculousness of two grown women being “chased” out of the park by a lady cop.
How some moments the kissing and touching was sweet and gentle and then passionate and intense.
How I melted when she grabbed a fist full of my hair and bit my neck.
Marveling at the softness of her.
Wanting more.

And I can’t stop thinking about her.  And I wonder when I’ll see her again.  And a thousand other thoughts, churning around in my head.

Distracted

She kissed me last night and I can hardly think of anything else.

I’m imagining you

I wonder what your lips would feel like, pressed against mine.  Would you be sweet and gentle or would the kiss awaken that rougher, more brazen side of you?  Perhaps you would start to kiss me slowly, hesitantly, until you knew I wouldn’t run away.  Then you’d hold back no longer.  I imagine you grabbing a fist full of my hair as our tongues intertwine.  You know you’ve chosen the right path when you hear the soft moans escaping from my throat.  You know what a girl likes.

The fantasy that often gets replayed in my head is of me, topless, kissing another topless girl.  Will you indulge me, I wonder?  I see my hands tracing the lines of your body – along your spine, over your hips, at your lower back.  So soft but also so strong.  I’m greedy and cannot keep myself from touching your breasts.  As we kiss I roll your nipples between my fingers.  I pay close attention, noting which amount of pressure elicits the most moans of approval.  I might be greedy but I try not to be selfish.

Speaking of those nipples…  I want to circle my tongue around them.  Suck on them.  Gently bite them, if you’ll let me, as I run my hand between your legs (I’m anxious to see if you’re as wet as I am.  In due time…).  Now I understand why men are so fascinated with breasts.  They’re irresistible and I cannot keep my hands off yours.  I want you to touch me but, at this point, I’m so lost in exploring and enjoying you that I’ve all but forgotten that perhaps you want in on the action.

What would it be like to snake my hand down your leg, aching to get in your pants?  I’m tingling just thinking about it.  Would I know what to do when my fingers finally made their way to your pussy?  Or would I be so overwhelmed with the situation that I’d stumble around, like someone learning to play an instrument?  I’m closing my eyes and picturing sliding my finger slowly inside you.  You are as wet as I surely am.  Your back arches towards me and I let my thumb find its way to your clit.  I want to make you come.  Then your fingers find me.  I know you could make me come.

Then I see us lost in crazed kisses, hungrily devouring each other, until we’re both shaking from the orgasms that were a given the moment you walked in my door.  After recovering from the bliss, I’d likely laugh and cover my eyes, suddenly shy after this intense moment.  I think you’d do something charming, perhaps giving me another lingering kiss to settle my nerves, because you’re just that perfect.  A delightful mixture of sexy and sweet, smart and sassy.

That’s where this little fantasy of you fades, as I drag myself back to reality.  Bits and pieces of it are sure to replay themselves in my head throughout the day, as I go about my normal business.  You love that, don’t you?  That underneath my good-girl exterior I can be the bad girl that dreams about kissing you.  Well, I do think about that, when I’m imagining you.

Kiss and Tell

I like girls.  Love them, in fact.  They’re fun, beautiful, soft, strong, and never what they appear on the surface.  It’s taken me a long time to realize and acknowledge that I am attracted to women.  I don’t think I could ever have an exclusive relationship with a woman but I can certainly appreciate their lure and often dream about being intimate with them.  But where is a girl like me supposed to find another girl like me?  The majority of my everyday life is consumed with being a mother and wife.  Though I’m not old (33), I’m no young thing out tearing up the clubs every weekend.  So with my husband’s blessing, I dove into the world of Craigslist.

Have you ever browsed your local Craigslist Casual Encounters section?  I liken it to a car wreck – so fascinating you just can’t look away.  Men, women, couples.  All looking for something.  Sex, companionship, a blow job.  You name it, it’s most likely on Craigslist.  The forum is also filled with lots of ads that didn’t pertain to my search.  I plugged on, determined to find a listing that I could respond confidently to.  However much I searched, I could not find a woman that fit what I was looking for.  They were all either too far away or looking for something that I am not.  Feeling discouraged with my search and wondering if I was the only woman in the situation that I found myself in, I decided to post my own ad.  It was, in my mind, a long shot but what the hell.  What did I have to lose?  The worst that could happen:  no one would respond.  The best:  I might find HER.

My Craigslist post was honest.  Maybe honesty isn’t the sexiest thing but I wanted to weed out the undesirables before they could even get to me.  I wrote the kind of ad that I would have responded to.  Days passed.  I thought to myself, oh well, at least I tried.  Then I got an answer.  I had found her.  Just like me.  So similar on the surface that I was amused.  We exchanged pictures, ironed out a few details about further activities (can my husband watch?  yes, after we’re comfortable with each other), and decided to meet.

She emailed her phone number to me a day or two later, saying she’d had a bad day and if I was free, maybe we could meet up.  My stomach was instantly in knots.  I can’t remember ever feeling so nervous.  I called her.  She sounded surprised at hearing from me so soon and was flustered and shy on the phone.  It was adorable and immediately put me at ease.  We agreed to meet that night, at a small restaurant between our homes, for drinks.  I was excited and nervous, happy that we had decided to have drinks instead of coffee.  I knew I would need some liquid courage to overcome my nervousness.

I arrived at the restaurant first and seated myself at a table in the bar.  I’m pretty sure I was the only girl there and felt very conspicuous and out of place.  I ordered a Cadillac margarita and proceeded to drink it as quickly as possible.  I kept thinking to myself, “I’m having a blind date!”  A strange thought, that.  I’ve been with my husband for almost 15 years, 13 of those married.  I have not had a date since I met him when I was almost 19.  Now I was not only having a blind date but I was having a blind date WITH A GIRL!  I was feeling a strange mix of nervousness and calm confidence.  I wanted this girl to like me but I didn’t need for her to like me.  There was some comfort in that knowledge, it helped to put me a little at ease.

I heard the bells on the door to the restaurant jingle.  I looked up and she walked around the corner.  She was cute.  Punky, shy-looking, with a haircut almost identical to my own.  I noticed a piercing in her septum and a tattoo on her arm.  They told me she was not your average girl but not in an in-your-face kind of way.  As she sat down we both smiled and acknowledged how nervous we were.  Getting that out in the open, along with the drinks we were hiding behind, helped us to ease into conversation.  She was outwardly anxious, fiddling with her drink, twisting her hands together.  Seeing that she,  the more experienced of the two of us, was so nervous somehow calmed me.

I liked her almost immediately.  This is the kind of woman that I would seek out to be friends.  She told me about her life, I told her about mine.  We had enough things in common to keep the conversation going and enough differences to be interesting to each other.  I was enjoying her company and knew that even if nothing more came of this meeting, I wouldn’t regret having come for this date.  As she was talking, I kept having to remind myself that I was here as a prelude to hooking up with this girl for sex.  Sex!  With a girl!  I wasn’t just having drinks with a new friend, I was interviewing a potential new lover.  Thank goodness the tequila was keeping me chatty, smiling, and fun.  Without it I may have just clamed up, crushed under the reality of the situation.

After chatting for a good long while, I paid for our drinks and we wandered outside.  Neither of us were ok to drive yet so I suggested we sit in my car and chat.  I was thankful once again for our similarities as I let her into my messy car.  Here my primary life of being a mom – juice boxes, fish crackers, kids books – and my secondary life as a sexually charged woman were colliding.  I was grateful she was in a similar position in her life and could appreciate the state of my world.  I fumbled with my Zune, playing some of my favorite songs, and nervously making small talk.  I think we both knew why I’d asked her to my car instead of just parting ways.  I asked her if I could kiss her.  She said yes.  I leaned over and placed my lips on hers.  Her mouth was small and she kissed me gently.  Once or twice when I leaned into the kiss, she moaned softly.  My hand slid from cradling her head to resting gently on her exposed chest.  All I could think was, holy crap I’m kissing a girl!  After we finished kissing we both giggled shyly.  She told me she loved that I was a little shy and unsure, just like her.  She lowered her eyes, smiled, and told me she was very glad we’d met up that night.  We talked about setting up another meeting, this time at my house, for the coming weekend.  It seemed we were moving forward.  We said our good byes and parted ways, with the understanding that we would firm up our plans soon.  I drove off, floating on a cloud, a mess of emotions swirling inside of me.

The further I drove, the more unsure and confused I became.  I thought back to the kiss.  I remember having the thought while I was kissing her that I wished I was kissing my husband.  I tried to imagine her coming to my house and how our encounter might unfold.  By the time I reached home, I was in a full panic.  I felt scared, my head was spinning, and the only thought I had was, “I can’t do this.”  My husband was waiting for me, expecting a hot ending to the night.  I fell into his arms and confessed that this was all too much for me.  I thought I would be more than happy to pick up a girl and have an amazing time being with a woman for the first time.  What I discovered was that I’m unable to turn my heart and my head off as easily as I’d imagined.  When fantasy crossed over into real life, it was too much for me to take.  All I wanted in that moment was to be completely enveloped in my husband and his love.  I wanted him, no one else.  As always, he gave me just what I needed.

Now I had to tell this lovely lady about my feelings.  I felt, for lack of a more eloquent description, like a total ass.  I had placed this ad.  I had set up the date.  I had kissed her.  I had made plans to take things further.  Now I had to tell her I’d changed my mind.  I sent her a message, trying to be as kind as I could, laying out the facts for her.  Lucky for me, she was very gracious and thanked me for being honest.  She also said that she would still like to be friends.  We’ve written back and forth a few times since the date and it has been lovely to have a new woman friend to talk to.

Not quite the dream ending, eh?   Funny how things never turn out the way you expect.  I haven’t decided if that night was the end of my search for a physical relationship with a woman.  I still have the desire to be with a girl.  Maybe it just has to be a different woman, a different time.  Or maybe the fantasy of it all will just have to be enough.  But I can tell you how I wish an encounter would go… (check back for that!)