Evie How My Barriers Fell

This story is a work of fiction. A figment of the author's imagination. It is not meant to be big on realism. It's a fantasy.

It's quite a slow-burn, but it gets there in the end. 🙂

All characters are fictitious, and any that are involved in sexual activities are over 18.

***

Evie: How My Barriers Fell.

Lesbians. I never understood... Until I did.

I was brought up in a very traditional Scottish family: I was given to believe that men were the leaders of the family, the leaders of the community, the leaders of everything.

The conventional wisdom was that I, as a female, was automatically in a lesser category. That everything I did or said was under an overarching, overbearing, male hegemony.

I accepted this without even questioning it. From my earliest awareness, it just was.

I suppose I passed through my childhood in a fairly unquestioning, unthinking way. It was pre-ordained that, when I grew up, I would meet a nice, suitable boy, get married, have kids, and settle down into a "comfortable" life of motherhood and wifehood. I didn't even think about it for a long time. It was just something that was accepted. It was the script. It was what was going to happen. No question.

But then puberty happened. I started to change, started to think more about things, started to question things. And I began to have all these strange feelings. My body was changing, and suddenly I had hormones. Suddenly, sex was something to think about.

At first, I didn't have any strong attraction towards others, male or female but I had urges. I was learning what it was to feel horny, and I began to discover the pleasures of my own body.

I had little sex education, and my parents never raised the subject, even though, in some respects, they were quite open and liberal. So, I had to explore, and learn for myself.

I discovered that fondling my burgeoning breasts felt good, and that it made my nipples go all plooky and stand up rudely. It made me feel like sucking them, and when I did, or if I plucked them with my fingers, strange things happened in my pussy, and I liked the feeling.

My little bean would get hard and tingly, and my pussy would get all wet and slippery. I couldn't resist slipping a finger inside me, then tasting it, and I found I liked that too. It felt naughty, and therefore exciting.

As time went on, I discovered more about the gentle art of masturbation, and my body's responses to it. I loved the feeling of rubbing my clitoris with a slippery, juicy finger, and I would lie on my bed. Rubbing myself with one hand, and dipping the fingers of my other one into my hole and then sucking them.

I remember the first time I came: A shocking, but exquisite feeling. My legs lifted off the bed as if they had a mind of their own, and my pussy got twice as wet, dribbling out a watery liquid, which I found had a different taste. It was addictive.

Around this time, I was lucky enough to make friends with a girl called Celia at college. She was way more knowledgeable than me when it came to sex and masturbation, and she liked talking about it. There was nothing remotely lesbian between us -- she had a boyfriend -- but she seemed to enjoy giving me the benefit of her experience. She even gave me a vibrator, saying she now had a new toy that was WAY better -- 'It actually sucks your clit,' she said with the greatest of glee.

I had fun with the vibe, and became almost addicted to 'wanking off,' as Celia called it. I was doing it daily, and I came to really enjoy the anticipation, sitting on the bus home, feeling the moisture growing in my pussy.

I guess I was a late starter when it came to actual sex. I was enjoying my solo playtimes, and the pleasures of my own body, so much, I didn't really feel the urge. I was approached a few times by lads at college, but I always turned them down. They just didn't motivate me.

Occasionally, I'd get pangs of guilt over my selfish sexual pleasures, and I wondered if I was abnormal in some way. I asked Celia what she thought and she said 'Ach, noo, ah still wank off lots, even though I'm having sex as well. Sometimes I wank off DURING sex. He loves it. Don't sweat about it pet, it's normal.'

Hmm, maybe she was right, but I started getting awkward questions about why I had no boyfriend. I just said I hadn't met the right one yet, which I thought was probably true.

It was near the end of the course, the week before we broke up for holidays, that I got the shock. Another college classmate, a girl called Jemma, who I was a little friendly with, invited me out for an end of term drink and a bite to eat one lunchtime. I thought nothing of it and accepted quite happily, but I nearly choked on my sandwich when she said, 'Are you gay, Evie?'

Suddenly, all the holes lined up and it all became clear. SHE was gay, and she was making a move on me! Oh. My. GOD.

'NO!' I said, way too forcefully. 'No, I'm not!'

She looked embarrassed. Crestfallen and embarrassed. 'Oh, sorry. With you not having a boyfriend... I've never even seen you talking to a boy, or flirting or anything, and I just thought...'

'No, I'm not.' I reiterated.

'Sorry, forget I said anything.'

I don't know if I would have stayed friends with her after this, but I'll never know because, three days later, college was over and she was out of my life forever.

Looking back now, years later, with all that's passed under the bridge, I regret my reaction that day. If she asked me that question now, my answer would be very different.

I guess I'd better introduce myself. I'm Evie McRae, a Scottish lass (as mentioned) and now in my mid 20s. I'm about average height, and perhaps a touch, but only a touch, overweight. I have a bit of squidgy flesh on my hips, and quite a big bum, but that's balanced out by my big boobs. I'm not the classic "English pear" shape, I'm a proper hourglass.

My hair is straight, shoulder-length and fair, with some naturally darker streaks in it. It's been described as "dirty blonde," but I think that's unflattering. If you described ME as a dirty blonde, I might accept it more readily.

My eyes are a kind of greyish blue, not so bright and piercing as some, but they have a nice almond shape, and it's my eyes I'm most often complimented on. Overall, I guess I'm not bad, and people seem to think I'm attractive, so I suppose I must be.

As I write this, I'm finally comfortable with my sexuality but, boy, have I been on a journey to get here. This is my story.

***

When Jemma asked me if I was gay, I was horrified. I'd never even entertained the idea, and it unsettled me in a way that I was unprepared for. For days afterwards, I grappled with unexpected feelings of vexation.

I was so disconcerted, I didn't masturbate for a week. What if the pleasure I got from playing with my own body meant I was gay, or had gay tendencies? The possibility had to be shunned, completely.

I never did what I should have done, and just calmly asked myself, could I be? Nor did I allow myself the thought, what if I am? Does it matter? The subconscious idea was that it was a bad thing. Not something to be entertained. This, I now know, is called repression.

Eventually, my sheer horniness made me relent and start wanking again and, oh, it was so sublime. A pleasure like nothing else. I told myself it was perfectly normal (it is) and that lots of straight girls do it all the time, look at Celia, for instance. I returned to just enjoying it, and not thinking about why I liked it so much.

The seed had been planted though, and it would germinate. Unstoppably.

In September of that year, I started a BA degree course in Cinematography. I'd known for a long time that I wanted to work in the film industry in some capacity, maybe starting off as a production assistant or something, and ending up as a producer, or even a director.

The course was made up of mostly girls, but there were a few guys, and I decided I needed to start seeing somebody, to dispel any rumours that I might be gay, right from the start. So, when a lad called Martin showed an interest in me, I started dating him.

It didn't go well. Despite being on the same course, we had little in common, and try as I might, I didn't find him sexually attractive. I mean, I liked him fine, but he didn't turn me on. I even struggled to get wet enough to have sex. The disappointment was, I'm sure, mutual.

Having had a boyfriend, even for just a few weeks, headed off any potential rumours about my sexuality though, so I felt "safe" for a while, and I didn't seek another relationship until the following year, and in the interim, my own fingers, and the vibe that Celia had given to me kept me very happy.

Of course, I could have bought myself a new toy of my own by now, but I liked the one Celia had given me. Somehow, I derived a little extra pleasure from knowing it had been deep inside her in the past. Whenever I sucked it after I'd fucked myself with it, I somehow felt a little bit connected to her. I guess you could say the signs were there.

I was still in denial though and, in the spring, I embarked on another dating and sex experiment, this time with a guy called Dougal. He was charming, and quite good-looking, but the sex was just as disappointing as it had been with Martin. It was not even half as arousing as my solo sessions.

Inevitably, this relationship also foundered, and I went back to my exclusively solo sex-life. How could my own body be so exciting to me, while these virile young men left me cold and unmoved?

This pattern repeated itself twice more that year, but still I remained in deep, deep denial. Surely, I'd meet "the right one" in the end? The one who would light my fire? Well, my fire would get lit, but not how I imagined.

It was at the beginning of the second year of the course that I encountered Brid (short for Bridget) who had transferred from a different university somewhere down south. She was bright, wild-eyed and feisty, and she seemed to take a bit of a shine to me - in a strictly non-gay way, I should add.

While studying, she was also doing work in actual film production, and she encouraged me to do the same. She'd been on the crew for TV ads, company training films, music videos... 'It's all good experience, she said, even the porn.'

Whoa, what did she say? 'Porn?'

'Yeh I've done a few. It's OK, it's not all sleazy.'

'Yeah, but...'

'I wouldn't rule it out. It can be fun.'

'But some of it is gross.'

'Well, some studios let you choose what kind of films you work on. You can say, solo girls only, or straight only, or lesbian... Anyway, I'll put you in touch with the agency that got me work. You can turn down any you don't fancy, Be warned though, there isn't a lot of casual crew work out there. You need to take it when it's offered, really.'

'Thanks Brid. It's kind of you to let me in on it. After all, I'm competition, aren't I?'

She laughed. 'I guess so, but I like to share.'

As I walked back to halls of residence that afternoon, I was musing. When I'd decided I wanted to work in cinematography, I'd never even thought about porn, or erotica, but there was no getting away from the fact that it's a big part of the industry. I read somewhere that, in terms of the sheer volume of content being made annually, it's as big as sport -- all sport - or even Hollywood. I realised that, regardless of what my attitude towards it might be, it was obviously a major source of the kind of work I was looking for.

But what WAS my attitude? Well, at that point in time, I suppose I'd have to say, ambivalent. Although my upbringing had been a little sheltered, sexually, I was no prude, and I was bright enough to realise that an industry that big would have many shades. Of course there would be slease in some quarters, and exploitation too, but that was true of many spheres. Sport, for example, or other branches of the entertainment industry.

I decided I wouldn't dismiss it out of hand, and would give it a try if an opportunity presented itself. What's the worst than can happen? I thought.

I made my name known at the agency that Brid had suggested, but it was a while -- a few weeks -- before they contacted me.

The first couple of jobs were working as an assistant on a training video, then as a grip on an ad for some electrical item or other. They were both good fun, but then things seemed to dry up for a while. I was starting to think I'd failed to live up to expectations and wasn't going to get any more work, and then the first porn job was offered.

It was a static camera operator job on a straight sex video, and I took it, thinking it would be interesting, but it was a very bad introduction. The people involved in the crew were all friendly enough, and it was all fine until we actually started shooting.

The primitive mechanics of sex were suddenly brought home to me in a very graphic and vulgar way. The couple, or should I say the two people involved, had sex. It was rather stop-start sex, but it was graphic and explicit sex, and a number of cameras, including my static one, filmed it. To me it was utterly repulsive. Completely devoid of eroticism. I hated it. I was glad I wasn't doing the close-ups. Ugh.

When the shooting was done, I couldn't get out of there quickly enough. I felt physically sick, and I returned to the little apartment in the halls of residence, and my roommate Natalie, in a state of shock. This was not for me.

Nat was completely unaware of where I'd been and what I'd been doing. She was sat watching TV, in the semi-dark, wearing baggy pyjama bottoms and a tee shirt, with one leg drawn up, on the sofa in bare feet, and I was struck by the fact that there was more allure and eroticism in just seeing her sitting there, than in all the animal humping I'd just witnessed.

'Hi Evie,' she smiled as I walked in, and I felt a surge of affection for her. We were two straight women though, so my affection was purely platonic, and I just joined her to catch the end of the film she was watching.

It was nice, just sitting watching TV, and slowly, the shock and revulsion I felt about the porn film, dissipated, as we shared some wine and some quiet, companionable time together before bed time.

I lay awake for a long time, trying to make sense of the evening's experience before I fell asleep. I think the thing that had shocked me the most was my reaction. Far from being turned on, my whole being was repulsed.

The next day, at morning break, I sat down with Brid, and told her about my experience the previous day, and my violently negative reaction to it.

'Yeah, it can seem a bit gross,' she said, 'The situation is so artificial. There are so many people in the room, and the performers can be very... I don't know... mechanical in a way.'

'I think that's my first and last time,' I said, firmly.

She looked at me, thoughtfully. 'Don't give it up just yet. You could try some solo girl stuff, or even some lesbian. It has a completely different feel to it.'

I was doubtful. I didn't want to repeat the experience I'd just had, but I thought maybe a solo girl shoot might be OK, so I phoned the agency, and told the girl I spoke to that if any more porn or adult film work came up, I only wanted to do solo girl stuff.

'Just solo?' she asked, what about all-girl stuff?'

'You mean lesbian?'

'Well, yes. Girl-girl.'

'Let me see how I get on with solo first... I didn't like the straight hardcore stuff AT ALL.'

She chuckled. 'OK, I'll let you know.'

A week went by and I concentrated on studying. I didn't even masturbate; my libido was too disrupted. I didn't ALLOW myself to feel horny. I was seriously unsettled.

Then, a job was offered. The girl at the agency, Amanda, said it was a 'high-glamour' solo girl shoot in London, so I'd need to take a day off uni and book a return ticket on an express train. It was doable though, so I accepted.

On the train, I was apprehensive. What if I had a similarly bad reaction to last time? Was I fucking myself up by doing this? I really worried that my sexuality could be compromised in some way.

Anyway, I arrived on set, which was in a hotel room, set up to mimic a woman's bedroom, and the gaffer explained the role to me. They wanted a general assistant/grip, so I'd be in charge of sorting out lights, and mountings for half a dozen fixed cameras, which would be in addition to a hand-held camera, operated by Zee, a smiley, friendly Asian woman who I took an instant liking to.

It was explained to me that the "actress," Nika, would start off, standing next to the dressing table mirror, in a nightgown, and would begin playing with her breasts, loosening the front of the garment, then letting it fall, revealing her lingerie, and she would also take off her bra before moving to the bed, where she would masturbate, initially with her knickers on but then removing them as she brought to herself to a (presumably fake) orgasm, using fingers, and then a toy. The whole film would be 20 minutes long, but would take almost an hour to shoot, with camera changes, re-shoots, specially set up close-ups etc.

I imagined where she'd be at various points, and started setting up lights and arranging the fixed cameras, which would roll throughout, capturing footage that could be cut in later by the editor, where appropriate.

I heard people arriving, and caught a glimpse of Nika as she went into the bathroom to get ready, but all I could tell was that she was tall and dark-haired. I found myself getting excited, as I continued setting up lights and cameras. I was filled with a feeling of tremendous anticipation.

The gaffer nodded his approval at my set up, and the director, who was definitely gay, said, 'Five minutes, people.' Zee moved around with her camera, practicing her shooting positions.

Then Nika walked in, all dressed up in full glamour-porn lingerie, and fastening the front of a long, black, lacy nightgown, which just had one tie, below the bust. 'Hi guys,' she said casually, looking around the room.

Oh. My. God. I'd never been this close to someone like her, and I was awestruck. From her jumble of long, brunette curls to her black high heels, she exuded glamour. Her makeup was extreme and stunning, her lingerie was fabulous, and her body was just utter perfection. She was erotica personified. Simply gorgeous.

We turned on the lights and started the cameras rolling, and she got straight into character; an impossibly sexual, vampish femme fatale. A total fantasy.

She didn't need much direction. She was a real pro, and knew exactly, what to do. Zee requested a re-shoot of her taking the bra off, because she wanted to make it more seductive, but other than that, Nika completely owned the room.

She knew when to pause, for Zee to take close ups etc, and where to position herself so that nothing was seen in the background that shouldn't be, and she knew how to pose, to show off her long legs, her perfect breasts, and her pussy, which was almost shaved, but not quite.

I looked on in awe as she performed. It was completely unlike the straight sex video experience. This was erotic. She was beautiful, and watching her was beautiful. I was enthralled.

At one point, Zee was lying on the bed, pointing the camera upwards, while Nika moved above her for a "domme" shot and it was an inescapably lesbian image. My pussy jolted with a little electric shock as I watched. Well, it was erotic, even if you're straight, I told myself.

When Nika lay on the bed and masturbated, the empathy I felt was extraordinary. Apart from her being watched by a room full of people, I was there with her. As a regular wanker myself, I felt it. How could I not be turned on?

Brid had been right. This did have a completely different feel to it.

On the train back to Scotland, I was in a reverie. I couldn't get the images of Nika out of my head. She was so perfect, so glam, so inescapably hot. Yet still I didn't admit to myself that this was a lesbian reaction. It was perfectly normal for a woman to appreciate the beauty and allure of another woman. It didn't mean I was GAY.