A Passion For My Own

My introduction to the love of another woman came on a warm spring evening very recently. I find myself confused about what it means, afraid of the emotions the experience has unleashed. And yet I cannot rid myself of the glow of that one breathtaking adventure.

Until it happened I had always regarded myself as very straight. Sure, there were opportunities in college, where I knew a few lesbians. But I had always been put off by them, by their butch mannerisms. Perhaps in my revulsion I was just hiding some inner truth about myself? I never thought so until now.

As for men, well, I liked them and they sure seemed to feel the same toward me. I never regarded myself as a classic beauty, but I do have a fine figure. The numbers tell part of the story, if I do say so: 5’6″ tall, maybe 120 lbs. I’m in good shape, too, thanks to jogging and squash. Men also seem taken with my large light brown eyes and my knockout smile.

And, like I said, I’ve always taken to men — or, at least, the male physique. There’s something wonderful about a tight pair of buns and, lets face it, a stiff cock can satisfy some very animal urges. That delicious sense of fullness as it stretches me that pressure of a man’s pelvic bone against my clit, have always left me deeply satisfied.

In fact, I was so fond of the male version of the species that I had decided last winter to marry my steady just after I finish business school this year. I happily wore the diamond engagement ring he had given me at the time.

On the other hand, I guess there are aspects of men I can do without. I’ve been to my share of encounter sessions with other women and we all agree that, where most men are concerned, a nice penis is about all they have to offer. Otherwise they’re clods. Even during sex, when it should be special, they are always in a rush to get off. My girlfriends and I used to joke that “romance” and “foreplay” must seem like a foreign language to most of them. My fiancé was better than most; still, I wondered sometimes if he was worth the trouble.

These secret doubts would have remained buried inside me were it not for the events I am about to describe. It all began during a conversation with a woman I’ll call Jackie, who is also in my business school class. She seemed upset and distracted. Because we’re close friends, she decided to confide in me — she had just had her first lesbian affair with a woman in our class who was known to be gay. Jackie was consumed by her passion for this woman and felt her world suddenly coming apart.

I listened sympathetically. Inside I was both fascinated and repelled. Jackie seemed so feminine, with her dark brown hair framing her face in gentle curls, her pretty dark eyes, her delicate features. She resembles me, I thought. And then suddenly I began to feel very strange indeed…

For if Jackie could harbor such desires, what about me? I began trembling and fought to steady myself. When she asked me whether I had ever had any interest in another woman, I said no rather too insistently. Reassuring her that we would still be the best of friends, I excused myself as soon as I thought polite.

I tried hard to put Jackie’s confession and my own curious response out of my mind. I might have succeeded, too, had she not called a couple of days later, on a Saturday afternoon. I was home cleaning my apartment, which I share with another female classmate. Sheepishly she asked if I would do her a large favor.

She had learned of a lesbian bar here in Boston, but she was too shy to go alone. She wondered whether I might accompany her, on a strictly platonic basis, until she had a chance to decide that she really belonged there. Besides, she said, the place was reputed to have great dance music, and I do love to dance, with anyone at any time. Before I had a chance to think I found myself accepting.

Well, not very much cleaning got done the rest of the day. I was unnerved and anxious. Fortunately, my apartment-mate Kirsten was away for the weekend interviewing for a job or I might have blurted out the whole story to her. At least a dozen times I started to phone Jackie to back out, but I couldn’t figure out how to do it without sounding prudish. That’s what I told myself, anyway.

Night came and I suddenly realized that I had to get dressed for our expedition. What does one wear to another woman’s seduction? Nervous though I was, I could still find some humor in the situation. A heavy trench coat ought to keep their attention off me…but you can’t dance in a trench coat. It was a warm night, so I thought I’d be casual, and settled on a clingy blue t-shirt and white short-shorts, topped off by a rakish broad-brimmed hat.

Stepping in front of the mirror, I took note of my slender legs, still tanned from my last vacation, my modest but very shapely breasts, and my innocent eyes. Just what men like, or women, I realized with a start. The thought wouldn’t leave me.

I was beginning to feel funny about the evening. I had to admit I was a bit excited. And then I did something I can’t explain: I put my engagement ring back into the drawer. I don’t know why. I still wore the pretty silver watch my fiancé had given me.

Before I could make sense of my emotions Jackie was at the door. She had chosen rather more demure attire. “I’m not sure which of us is looking to score tonight,” she joked. “No one will notice me.” We hopped into her car and scooted off.

The club seemed like any other disco/bar, except, of course, for the absence of the opposite sex. Couples were cuddling around dimly-lit tables or dancing in the back — only both partners were female. My old prejudices seemed very out of place. Most of the women were about our age, early twenties, and quite pretty.

As we made our way to the bar, I could feel many eyes upon us. I noticed one attractive woman with very dark eyes and a butch haircut who kept staring at me in particular. We made small talk with several women over our drinks. Jackie whispered to me that maybe I should dance, so she could get better acquainted with a stunning blonde dressed in black leather who had just struck up a conversation.

When it comes to dancing, I am absolutely uninhibited. The music was bouncy and hot, and I caught the beat and began to release my tensions by shaking my hips and wiggling anything that would wiggle. All around me were lithe female forms twisting and writhing. Women move so much more sensuously than men! The atmosphere was incredibly erotic.

Finally I had to catch my breath. Returning to the bar I discovered that Jackie had adjourned to a small booth and was sitting very close to the blonde. I was on my own.

“May I buy you a drink?” said a soft voice behind me. I turned around to meet the gaze of the dark-eyed lady who had been admiring me before. “My name is Amy. I really like the way you dance.” I began stammering that I was there with a friend, that I was getting married soon, that I had never been in this kind if a place before, and… Something in her eyes just stopped me.

“Relax,” she continued in a reassuring tone, “I just wanted to find out if you’re as nice as you are pretty, and you are very pretty.” I smiled at the compliment. As we talked over drinks she continued to stare at me, those amazing eyes of glistening coals seeming to reach down into my soul. My mind was spinning; I felt weak in my knees. She’s seducing me, I thought to myself, and I want her to.

Then it happened. Amy leaned forward and placed her hand on my bare thigh, caressing it ever so gently. “It’s late, but I’m enjoying this. Would you like to come back to my place?” Her eyes were but inches from mine and I just melted beneath their intensity. “Look,” she went on, “we all have a first time. I think I can teach you a few things about yourself.”

She took my hand, her fingers interlaced with mine, and guided me toward the door. Jackie noticed us and flashed me a knowing smile. I just smiled back, blushing a little, and Amy and I left very much together.

Back at her place, Amy put on some romantic music. “I didn’t get to dance with you in the bar,” she said. “This is more my speed.” She encircled my hips with her hands, I placed mine around her neck, teasing her short red-brown hair with my long nails, and we swayed slowly across the floor. Our eyes locked again and

I suddenly felt I had no secrets from this extraordinary woman. Her lips brushed mine, once, twice, and then we were kissing deeply, tongues swirling together, teeth nibbling. It felt so right! I threw my head back in absolute delight as Amy ran her tongue down my neck and bit fiercely. Oh, there would be marks to explain to my roommate the next day! Her hands roamed my body, tracing the contours of my bottom and the outline of my breasts. My panties were drenched with the evidence of my arousal. Sensing my excitement, she hurriedly drew me into the bedroom.

When it comes to undressing a woman’s body, I discovered, four female hands are quicker than two. In moments I was naked except for my watch, which gleamed in the soft light. As I stood before Amy, I hoped desperately that she would be pleased with what she found. Her eyes devoured me. Then she removed her blouse and slacks and tossed her panties aside, and it was my turn to admire. She had small, well-shaped breasts and slender hips. I marveled at her perfect muscle tone and at her skin, invitingly smooth and luminescent.

Our bodies came together again on the bed, Amy on top, very much the teacher she said she would be. Her lips, so astonishingly soft, found mine in a kiss that seemed to last for hours, building in intensity to a peak I never dreamed possible. And then, finding my breasts with her tongue, she teased my nipples until they were deliciously hard, at the very point of pain. All the while she kept her hand cupped on my mons, her palm working in magnificent unison with her tongue. For me, at that instant, nothing existed beyond my throbbing clitoris and erect nipples.

But though I was on the verge of ecstasy, Amy had much more to show me. She paused in her manipulations as I moaned in frustration. Shushing me with another lingering kiss, she moved her head down between my thighs. Her tongue traced the outline of my vaginal lips. Then, having parted my labia with two gentle fingers, she laid siege to my exposed clitoris. Her tongue darted close and danced away, refusing to embrace it and release me from my growing sexual heat. I twisted and lurched to make contact with her tongue, but she held me too firmly. I was completely at her mercy and loving it as I had never loved sex before.

“Turn over,” she instructed, and I obeyed. Placing a pillow under my abdomen to raise my behind, she parted the cheeks of my ass and began licking my crack with the flat of her tongue. I felt warmth radiate from the spot to my face and ears, my entire body tingled, and I squirmed about the bed in absolute heat.

Her oral explorations focused more and more around my anus, and then, as I gasped, her tongue was probing my tight nether hole. It seemed to open of its own accord and Amy tasted a part of me that I had always — so foolishly — held forbidden. The tingling turned into fire. Please, I thought, please, my darling, let me come. At that instant, as though she could read my mind, her hand found my clitoris and I was gone.

My body clenched in one great spasm and seemed to explode in a thousand directions at once. Great waves of electric sensation cascaded over me. I cried out as I flew, soaring into the heavens, then tumbling back into a deep, dark abyss.

Gradually I became aware of the room again, the bed, Amy’s warm body pressed against mine, trying to still my trembling. I was weeping softly. She stroked my hair and face and kissed me gently. How could she understand so well? “We all have a first time,” she whispered.

There were more lessons that night. I learned to savor the taste and aroma of woman in passion, stunningly pungent yet sweet. I learned that a dildo can do the same wonderful things a hard cock can do and never come too soon! And, overcoming the last inhibition, I got to do to Amy’s ass what she had done to mine and to experience the thrill of her wrenching orgasm. Dawn was breaking over the Boston skyline as we drifted off to sleep, arms and legs entwined. When we awoke we started again, and, believe me, it was as fresh and exhilarating as the first time.

It was Sunday night before I got home. The phone rang as I came through the door. I dreaded the thought that it might be my fiancé. But it turned out to be Jackie. “Where have you been all day?” she asked, laughing. So I told her my story and she told hers. It had been quite an evening all around.

My life is different now. I know I won’t give up this new world of pleasure. I want Amy again and I want other women too, surely lovely Jackie and I are fated to be more than friends. The ring is still in my drawer.