A few words from the author.
This is a fairly long story which is in several parts, probably 7. I will post these regularly over the next couple of weeks so keep checking Lit for the next part and please feel very free to leave comments or to score (highly) any or all of the parts.
So now, join me on my journey from being a faithful, though unhappy wife, to becoming a full-on lesbian. I hope you enjoy the ride.
Love,
Jayne x
I first realised that my attraction to women was more than simply friendship just after my eighteenth birthday when I was in my last year at school. It was then when my feelings towards them turned firstly, intimate and then, later sexual. Initially, they were directed towards the Sports Captain, Megan and then to Mrs. Western the English Teacher who was in her thirties.
Apart from a couple of dances and a grope with Megan at a party, nothing happened with either of them but, being a typical, horny teenager my hormones were raging and sex was always uppermost in my mind. The two of them became my masturbation fodder until I lost my virginity just after my eighteenth birthday on the back seat of a Ford Escort to a twenty-five-year-old guy who was my tennis partner.
My sexual thoughts about women increased when I went to university as I got in with a group of girls that included two declared lesbians and two others who said they were bi. The other three of us had no experience with women and had no idea really what we were as, at the time, we hadn't heard of the sexual classification, horrible term as that is, of bi curious. I was certainly that and whilst at uni. and during the year or so I spent working in the US immediately after that I more than satisfied that curiosity.
This was the naughties and lesbianism was quite a fad at the time.. Madonna had kissed Brittany on stage, girls were 'coming out' everywhere, there were lessy scenes on TV and in lots of films, and it was nowhere near as frowned upon then as it had been earlier. And, of course, the example set by rock and film stars trickled down to the masses of impressionable fans such as us young, university students. It was then as good as impossible to go to a club, certainly in London, and not see girls dancing together very intimately, holding hands, cuddling and even kissing. And, of course, university students are always at the forefront of such fads and fashions. So, if clubs and society in general were accepting women being together then university life was positively embracing it, almost insisting upon it.
Of course with most of us, it wasn't real lesbianism. Few of us cut our hair short, wore dungarees, let the hair grow in our armpits or developed penis aversions and hardly any of us became out and out man haters. No, we were sexual pioneers, free-thinkers and erotic explorers, or so we thought. We were examples of what the media termed 'lipstick lesbians,' basically good lookers that admired the beauty of other women and wanted to experiment.
Having said all that it was still pretty frightening admitting to it and even more so doing something about it. It wasn't for everyone, not all girls could accept the idea. Maybe there's some genetic thing that makes it easier and more palatable for some females than for others. If so, then I had, and have still got, that genetic thing in quite a big way.
"Thanks for the lift Jayne, would you like to come in for coffee, the rest will be there?" Melissa, my first real female lover, asked as I pulled up outside the large house that six of the economics group she was in rented. I had given her, one of the self-admitted lesbians in our group, a lift home from a uni function in the centre of town. I half turned and looked at her and said, "No, I'll give that a miss if that's ok."
"Yes of course it is love," she said softly holding my gaze but making no move to get out of my MINI and we just sat there for a moment or two, very close but separated by a mutual fear as I later learned. A fear that was partly of being rejected and partly, I think, in a strange way, of being accepted. But in retrospect I could see that something had to happen, something had to give, something had to change, something had to make us share our feelings.
"Mel," I said turning and looking at her as at precisely the same time she looked at me.
"Jay."
We laughed, "Go ahead," I said as she, again at the same time, said.
"After you."
I could hear the nervousness in her voice and see the apprehension in her eyes, even though it was dark in the MINI. We looked at each other for a moment or two until she said, in almost a whisper.
"Are you feeling the same things as I am Jayne?"
The look on her face as she said that was so caring and intense that my heart went out to her. Instead of responding with a rather smart-arse remark such as, 'How would I know?' I replied, in a voice that was croaky with emotion.
"Yes Mel, I think I probably am."
"Oh God Jay," were the wonderfully confirming last words I heard before we were in each other's arms her lips on mine stopping any further talking. It was simply the most exciting, arousing, succulent and enjoyable kiss I'd ever had. It was long and tender, long and passionate, long and enquiring and long and inviting. It was a kiss of relief that we'd found each other and one of demand that we wanted more. It was asking and accepting and giving and taking at same time. It was everything a kiss should be and everything that I'd imagined it would be as I'd lain so many nights now, masturbating over exactly what I was now doing, kissing another woman.
Our arms went around each other and our hands, as if on autopilot, found the other's breasts. More tentatively and without the frantic grasping that most men tend to do. No words were exchanged, we didn't ask permission or give approval as there was no need. We both knew instinctively it was what our bodies wanted and our minds demanded, it was perfectly natural, the logical extension of the kiss and probably the most sexually exciting thing that had ever happened to me.
Somehow a couple of buttons on her blouse had come undone and my hands were on her bra and the bare flesh above it while hers were inside my sweater.
"Not here Jay, not here, it's too public," Mel broke our kiss long enough to whisper.
"Where then? Where can we go?" I asked knowing it wasn't in her house or my flat that I shared with two others.
"Just drive Jayne, take us somewhere quiet, where there's no one around."
I almost smiled as I drove into the country her hand stroking my neck, for once again I realised, I was going to make love in a car and maybe lose my bisexual virginity just as I had my hetero one.
And make love we did. Wondrous, magical, exhilarating and tantalisingly stimulating love that was so different, so gentle, so exciting and so much more satisfying than anything I'd had with the five men I had so far had full sex with. It was soft and slow and tender, but it wasn't complete love, it couldn't be, we didn't have the time or the space on the back seat of a MINI for that.
But we did have the time to let the other bare our breasts, to stroke and caress them, to squeeze and pinch them and to kiss and lick them. We had the time and the space and the will and the desire to make each other cum by stimulating our breasts.