The next few days were extraordinarily difficult for Cynthia. She had been disappointed, if not surprised, that Dr. Butler had been unable to offer real hope for solving her problem. The difficulties she faced in having an affair of the type she needed were obvious even before seeing the therapist, but she had hoped. On top of that, the idea that she should consider a sexual relationship with a woman left her with internal conflicts that she didn't understand. Like most women, she had been socialized to believe that female to female sex was only the province of lesbians, and that lesbians were "different," if not perverted. That was politically incorrect to believe in the modern world, but it was what Cynthia had been taught and such teaching was hard to overcome. She, herself, had no prejudice against lesbians, having at least two on her teaching staff but she still had considered their sexual preferences hard to understand. She always had known that she was completely heterosexual, and, to the best of her recollections, had never, consciously, at least, been aroused by another woman. Now, to her consternation, she had her sexual underpinnings weakened beneath her.
She had heard of bisexuals, of course, but never had thought much about them, considering them to really be lesbians masquerading as normal women. Now, she had been shown that bisexuality, far from being an isolated variant on lesbianism, was a historically accepted practice among ordinary, heterosexual women. More, focusing on her own fantasies, Cynthia had to admit that, at the least, limited sexual contact with other women did appeal to her! That admission, itself, was traumatic and unexpected, causing her to think about things that had been unthinkable a few days ago. She was honest enough with herself, however, to realize that while she hadn't conceived of them in her mundane, daytime thoughts, her more open, uncontrolled nighttime fantasies had placed her in positions that showed unrealized bisexual tendencies. Nothing overt, of course, but there, nonetheless. In all of her fantasies, including the one detailed to Dr. Butler, another woman was almost always present, playing a minor or passive role, but there.
What she still found very hard to accept, however, was the idea of actually being physically intimate with another woman. Having her present, even participating through hugging, kissing or, seemingly, inadvertently touching, was appealing, but she couldn't picture going past that point. Regardless of that, though, she was sure that Dr. Butler was correct when she had said that a woman probably would show more empathy and, perhaps, would provide the closeness and affection she wanted and needed. Thinking of that, she was forced to admit to herself that the idea of lying in bed with another woman, sharing her problems with a sympathetic, loving friend, feeling close and appreciated, did have real appeal without any questionable sexual connotations. That kind of bisexual relationship had great attraction for Cynthia, but, that seemingly inevitable physical intimacy continued to be a major roadblock.
Still, following the therapist's suggestion, she tried to fantasize about a more erotic relationship with another woman, but found it very difficult. Somehow, some internal censor seemed to present a barrier to what, subconsciously, still seemed to be a perversion, at least for her. One thing was certain. When she thought of sex, she thought of men, not women! Oddly enough, however, she had never been turned on by looking at pictures of nude men, but had enjoyed looking at photographs or paintings of nude women. She always had considered that preference to be based on esthetics and a recognition of beauty, not sex, but, now she wasn't quite so sure. Trying hard to think of a scenario that might be exciting, however, she suddenly had a forgotten, or suppressed, memory from over twenty years before spring into her mind.
She had been a junior in college and she had been sunning to try and get an early tan. She was lying on her stomach with the strap of her bra top unfastened to avoid lines. As Cynthia recalled the occasion, she was lying with her head resting on her arms when a friend from the dorm, sitting nearby, offered to put sun tan lotion on her back. It felt very good as her back was rubbed, her friend saying, "Your back still has some tan, but I had better put plenty of this stuff on your white areas." As she spoke, she began smoothing the lotion onto the exposed side of Cynthia's breast, saying, "Boy, your skin here will really burn if it's not covered! Raise up a bit." Without thinking, Cynthia raised her left side, the one closest to her friend, letting more of her breast show.
She felt a funny tingle as the fingers gently spread lotion on the newly exposed area, reaching perilously close to her nipple. Suddenly a little shy, she lowered herself back down without saying anything. Leaning over her, the friend continued sliding her hands over Cynthia's back, and, leaning over, said, "I'd better get the other side too. A burn there would really hurt." It was all very innocent, and as the fingers began spreading the lotion on the side of her right breast, Cynthia, without being asked, raised her right side to give her friend better access. Again, the fingers gently smoothed the cool lotion on, coming closer to the nipple. This time, Cynthia forced herself to stay still, and suddenly, the fingers touched the nipple, circling it slowly as her friend laughingly said, "There, we don't want that to get burned!" With that, she went back to her book, obviously unaware of the tingles that still coursed through Cynthia's body.
Many years later another tingle went through Cynthia as she remembered that long forgotten experience. It really had been innocent, but it had excited her then and she felt a surprising amount of heat as she considered it now. Actually, her arousal then probably would have occurred regardless of the sex of the person touching her. Her breasts always had been sensitive, so having them touched was stimulation enough, but, the feeling had been different from past occasions with a boyfriend. "Maybe," she thought, "I could be aroused by another woman caressing me. Its funny Fingers don't have sex, but when the fingers belong to a woman, they do have a different impact! What earthly difference does it make whether it's a man or woman if it's just feeling and fondling? I wish I could try that blind testing that Dr. Butler talked about to see if I could tell the difference – or if I would prefer a woman's touch if I couldn't!"
The whole subject tended to dominate her thinking when she wasn't busy, particularly as she lay in bed at night beside her sleeping husband. She continued to fantasize, to try to open her mind along the lines suggested by Dr. Butler, but found it very hard to focus on another woman. As before, she seemed to gravitate toward a threesome, but, reluctantly accepting the tact that the woman in the scene did interest her, she finally was able to picture both of the others participating. Following the therapist's instructions, she wrote down the fantasy in as much detail as possible.
My husband and I have driven for hours to visit a college friend of mine and her husband. My husband is very tired and around 10:00 PM goes to bed. It's a warm night, and later my friend asks me if I'd like to go into the pool for a little while. I decline, saying that my suit is still packed, but they tell me that they always swim nude at night. They both urge me to join them, saying that it was dark anyway. I don't want to seem prudish so I let them persuade me.
