Amber, the babysitter, 4
That whole week after Amber had spent the night left me wanting more. Our developing situation had re-opened doors for lesbian sex, unlike anything I had experienced before. My pussy was wet for days. I am sorry to say it that way. But knowing we had planned a night for ourselves, that we had gone for a romantic dinner and then made love, was exhilarating.
I kept on envisioning her face between my legs as my words guided her through eating her first pussy. How she made me cum and then wanted to do it again was sexy and gratifying. I kept seeing her tight pussy, her perfect, soft, milky skin, her beautiful tits, which made me want it even more. Knowing I had made her cum so hard that her ass lifted off of the bed was so sensual and satisfying.
Of course, I was still fighting with myself internally, not necessarily because of the sex, but because we were ages apart. As much as I would have easily entertained the notion of a lesbian relationship, I wasn't sure someone 20 years younger than I was the right pick. But acknowledging I had given her the chance to open doors to her newly discovered sexuality was something I wished someone had done sooner as my yearning was developing.
The thoughts that this beautiful, intelligent, educated, and compassionate woman knew that men were not doing it for her were more exciting and liberating for me. She needed a woman. She wanted that experience, that love, and she wanted it with me. In many ways, it was very flattering and uplifting that she had chosen me over any other woman she could have had. It made my heart melt.
Even though I am sure she was scared out of her wits when we did it, she went for it. She didn't let her fears, stereotypes, culture, or upbringing define her sexuality. I admired her for that. I admired her for taking the chance, trying something out of the ordinary, and pursuing who she felt she was. I hoped through all my conversations with her, my backing and my love had given her the support, the opportunity, and the courage to try something new. And, in turn, her actions, beliefs, and willingness gave me the courage, the opportunity, and the belief that I could try it again for myself.
I had long accepted I was bi-sexual. And since my divorce, perhaps even leaning more towards women than men. I had slept with Mary for a length of time and Jane a couple of times, and even after returning to men with my time with Chuck, I knew or at least felt more comfortable with a woman. It was something about the communication, the passion, the trust, the softness and having the same equipment that was fascinating for me. Lord knows I got my pussy fucked hundreds of times by men I dated and throughout my marriage. But there was something so unique, erotic, and taboo about having a woman's tongue deep inside my slit, knowing her pussy was dripping wet while she was pleasing me. At least I know mine gets dripping wet while pleasing them.
All my fantasies, all my masturbations to lesbian porn, were way hotter and way more intense than my masturbations of men. Maybe that was it. It was all about the fantasy of being with a woman. The secretness of it. The surprise if anyone would have found out. The taboo, quiet, different lifestyle of being in love with someone of the same sex. That my old man neighbor would probably get hard, knowing it was eating pussy, instead of sucking dick. That others would be jealous that I could go both ways and eat pussy, just as good as I sucked dick. Maybe it was the seduction of it. The suspense, the astonishment when you realize you are attracted to another woman. Wondering what she kisses like. What her tits look like. If her pussy is waxed. Was it wide open and wet, or tight and lean?
Maybe someone like Amber, Mary, or even Jane had brought out a side of me I never knew or never developed previously. Because, just like most girls, I was raised to fall in love with a man. To get married, have kids, and live in that white picket fence house. To be a mom and a wife. Yet, on nights alone, after my divorce, it was lesbian sex, intriguing thoughts of women, of pussy, and of a different lifestyle that kept my heart and spirit going. And now that I had this beautiful, attractive, younger, hot, sexy girl chasing me... Well, things couldn't have been more intriguing.
I needed her again. I wanted to feel her kiss. To feel her touch and to seduce her. I hoped she still needed all of that from me. Amber and I were communicating rather frequently. I bet we passed 20 to 30 messages a day, and I loved that she was open and honest with me about her feelings and desires. I give her credit for realizing in her early 20s that the status quo of relationships would not be where she wanted to be. I give her big kudos for coming out to me and expressing her wants and needs and feeling that I was the person she wanted to experience that with just as I spoke those feelings to Mary as we started dating.
Just about every day, Amber asked me if we could see each other or if she could slip by after the kids went to sleep. I often wanted to say yes, even if it was to have her hang out for dinner with us. Just as much as I was fighting the battle to let her into my life more, I was also fighting the battle inside myself due to our age differences. I didn't want to get attached to her too deeply if she would move on. Or find someone her own age. I surely didn't want the kids to become so close that their hearts would be broken if we stopped seeing each other. As I have said before, it wasn't the sex that concerned me; it was her age. It was where she was in life and the possibility that, at any given moment, she could step out into the world and find something or someone else that made her feel complete.
Time passed by so quickly after we had made love. Even though we had briefly seen each other one night later that week, a whole week and a half passed without her being here or us spending a length of time together. It was deflating for both of us. Almost two weeks after we made love was the - every other Thursday night - when the kids' father picked them up for his bi-weekly dinner. He generally arrives about 5:30 p.m. and keeps them until about 9:00 p.m. before he brings them home so that I can get them to bed on time.
Just as he pulled up, Amber texted me to see how my day was going. As much as we communicated, I missed seeing her in person. I wanted her to be there with me, and I knew she wanted to be with me. I don't think it was so much us being horny as much as it was not having the capability of seeing each other that was driving us batty. I missed her being around, and I thought tonight might be an opportunity for us to see one another, even for a short period of time. I replied to her text and told her to give me a few since I was getting the kids off to their dad.
When I returned to texting her, Amber wrote she was home doing nothing. My response was, " Get up and get over here. I haven't seen you since last week."
I received a big smiley face emoji and the words, "I'll be right there."
It wasn't more than 20 minutes of me anxiously waiting until I saw her car pull up. I was giddy she had arrived, and I was excited she was coming to see me. I whipped open the door as she walked up my walkway, and she smiled brightly at me as she stepped into my foyer. I shut the door behind her, and just after she hung up her coat, we leaped into each other's arms and had a long, warming hug that lasted for minutes. It was wonderful holding her, and I felt she was just as receptive and accepting that she was holding me. When we broke from our hug, we clinched our hands out in front of us and stared into each other's eyes.
I could see her happiness and excitement that we were finally together. As much as I usually don't admit things like this to anyone I date, I mouthed out to her, "I missed you." And I knew it.
I was so happy she was there. I was glad she and I were holding each other and finally getting to spend time together. My heart was beating in my chest, my nerves were whirling, and I became so aroused and overcome with lust that I wanted to take her right there. I wanted to be kissing her, undressing her, pulling her pants down, and licking her pussy until she came.
We didn't get two steps into my front room until I pulled her in for a first kiss. I think she was just as excited, aroused, and happy to be alone with me. We staggered over to the couch, standing in front of it, and we continued deep kissing as both Amber and I pulled our shirts over each other's heads. We stood in our bras, tits pressed against one another, kissing so hard and so deep that we were lost in time. I pulled her bra cups down while she was trying to get her arms through the loops and started sucking on each of her tits, one after another, very fiercely and passionately, as her hands wandered all over the top of my back. I unhooked my bra and let it fall to the floor as both of her hands cupped my tits. The passion in the room could have been measured in tons because there was no doubt we both wanted this.
"I missed you," she moaned through our kiss.
"I haven't stopped thinking about you since last week," she added.
