I must have started to tell this tale no less than a dozen times, but after a few chapters I keep ending up deleting it.
The simple truth it that it was an embarrassing time in my life, even now remembering makes my cheeks flame up.
Part of my problem in that respect is with the exception of just a few stories and some embellishment in my poor attempt to make my often boring life more interesting, mine are mostly true.
I worry that someone I know and work with might know some of that about me.
Yes, I really am a Physician, I really have been married three times, four if we count my twice marriage to my late husband Tom. I really did inherit a very large estate, and one that I had absolutely no right to other than the fact that a woman I loved was my friend.
Being naive, I even used my real name when I signed up here, but of course I figured out quickly the problems with that (so help me, some of you men..lol) and changed the last name and some other things.
I really am... just Sally.
I am also better now, I am more in tune with me, with who I am and what I like. Still, my cheeks can flame up at the idea of someone knowing, finding out the things inside the deep recesses of my mind.
I could not, I would never dream of letting most around me know the thoughts that pop up inside of me. In that respect I am just..normal?
Here, I can be whatever I wish, I can let it ALL hang out. I think I finally understand what my friend Lee explained to me, the magic in writing it down, letting it all out. Then rereading it, feeling once again the sensations, the memories that slide into my mind with the sensuality of my own words.
Wow did I take off here? But it is just to help any readers understand who I am, where I came from and how I came to be who I am now.
I think I became a naughty girl, far more so than when I was younger. That's what I think, anyway. I like sex, I like being with a man, I like being naughty sometimes. And I am getting older, the day will come soon when I just cannot be.
That period that comes to all women came to me also. The craving for sex, love, touch, peaked in me later in life and now into my mid forties that has still not left me. Our biological clock seems to speed up, mine was and is running wide open.
I grew up with conservative parents, good solid God fearing people. My early life was one of being the girl on the outside looking in. I was not blessed with beauty, or even a hot body. We all know the girl that is "just there" in our classes at school.
That girl was me.
Lord was I bashful. I would see boys, then men as I went on to medical school look down at my well covered breasts. I did notice that, it would make my cheeks flush even though I was completely covered, I would look down and hurry past, not daring to meet their eyes.
My breasts, those damn breasts! They weren't huge but they were out there, I had no way to hide them at all.
Only in the privacy of my room, with the door securely shut and locked could I take them out and inspect them. While I was maturing, it seemed like every single day they became bigger and more obvious, the thick bras I wore began to cut into me and I had to get larger ones.
I finally ended up wearing a "C" cup, not huge but full, the sides and top portions of the bra still cut into me and made them ache, but going larger was too much and that size slid around on me and gapped open. Of course having one slightly larger than the other is no help at all in that respect.
I was terrified someone would see me, see my nipples, my breasts.
In medical school, I had to undergo the horror of being inspected by other students, in many of the classes with hands on type training we used each other as subjects. It was trauma at the time yet exciting when alone in my room, my busy hand would reach for myself with almost a mind of it's own at the memories.
The first time I lay there with my legs open and a student put their finger inside it was a female, but later it was also the male students. I bit my lip, but I managed. The sheet over me was very little comfort.
Then our instructor actually discussed with the class about my being a virgin, the differences there, as I had to sit there and hear it. She was talking about ME, about MY vagina, my personal and secret spot that I was so shy about. One of the men in our class made a crack about me being the only virgin my age left in the entire country and everyone snickered. For some reason that helped with my shyness, I became stubborn and held my head up after that.
I am not sure but I think it made me feel special? All of those emotions tearing around inside of me, conflicting with each other were constant in those early years.
I did get better about my shyness, but not much. I also had to undergo the students poking at my bare breasts and looking at them but they mostly had developed their bedside manners by this time and I finally got over being totally reluctant.
Yes, I finally learned about boys, and men, and that some were much better than others. My first time with a young man was one of those situations where he almost didn't slow down as he went by.
I married a man, he drank, spent money, wouldn't work. I divorced him after he struck me once while drunk, then my second husband was arrested and when I went to bail him out I found that he was caught at a local parking spot with a much younger man. The charge was public indecency.
I left him there in jail. He was released actually very quickly, and he came home.
I wasn't there, and I didn't go back.
Then I met Tom, I fell so completely in love with him that I have no way to even describe that.
He was also flawed, somewhere inside of him my loving him and being totally willing was not quite enough. Tom had fantasies, they were there inside of him all the time, under the surface.
I call it a flaw, the odd desire to display, show off someone you love. An illicit desire, but if it actually is a flaw, then I carry my own inside me.
Tom wasn't difficult, not even in the slightest. He never really made me do anything at all, but he let me know he would like it if I dressed in a sexy manner, showed off my breasts, went without under panties, things like that.
He would act so happy and loving when I wore a top that let part of my bra show, or made sure he knew there was no chance of pantie lines showing through my dress. That was naughty, delicious to me and I began to like the feeling. He would practically pounce on me when we got home from an evening out like that. I felt so safe and warm in his arms, and Tom always took the time to make sure I got my own pleasure out of it.
Tom was not a large man in the male department and I didn't care. He way more than made up for it in stamina and the efforts he took to make sure he pleased me. I had a fascination with his male organ, for some reason he was far firmer than any other man I ever knew, including those I sometimes saw in my practice.
I knew that happened because of me! It was a delight to get him into that state, the best times were when he was out of control in his eagerness.
I began to tease a bit more when we went out, Tom became even more attentive, even more of a wonderful lover if that was possible.
Then one day I discovered by accident that there had been a situation with Tom's partner's wife. I knew right then my man had cheated on me. It sounded like the other man wanted me in exchange, to get even I guess. There were some bad times, I forgave Tom finally but I did a couple of other things during that period. For revenge I suppose, my rationalization.
Out on the dance floor with Tom sitting there watching, I let a man, a total stranger, take liberties. I did stop him when his fingers reached my nipples, but he most certainly got that far.
That was the first time I ever did anything like that, at least in public. Oh, I knew about men, I had done my share, by the time I married Tom I had been with a total of five. Those were all private situations.
For quite some time after Tom and I got back together he made no mention of me doing anything sexy, and I didn't. Then I noticed he reached for me less and less. We still made love once a week, or a bit less, but normal for us was almost every other day without fail.
