(Before we begin, please remember this story is totally fiction. All the names, places and situations do not represent any real people or places. All characters are over 18. This story takes place in the same universe as A chance Meeting, but stands alone. You should read chapter 1 before you continue. Please leave a comment. I hope you enjoy)
--- Maggie
I had not recognized on conscious level how stressful my life with Madison had ALWAYS been. I felt relieved, not sad to see Madison go. But I had gotten angry and hurt and jealous of Madison's antics time and time again in the past. I cooled off, swore it was over and each time came crawling back. Knowing full well that more hurt was ahead of me at the hands of my mercenary girlfriend.
Will I be strong enough this time?
Chapter 2
From the beginning of this tale, you might expect this story to be about Madison and me. You might have been right, if the past was any indicator of the future. Time after time I would break away, determined to end this relationship, and time after time I would be drawn back into it.
This betrayal had ripped the blinders from my eyes. I had fallen into a role that I had been raised to believe was a woman's place, a meek, unassuming, submissive subordinate one. This mindset was the reason I ran to NY and left the small town in which I was born and raised.
In New York, working for my father, I found my true self an assertive and happy independent openly gay woman. The day I met Madison, I lost that independence. I had surrendered my identity to Madison and my hometown's 1950 misconceptions of a woman's place in society.
Now the real work would start. I would be going home.
On a personal level I was going home to clear the air concerning my sexual orientation and tell my mom and sister that I was a lesbian.
On a business level I was going to discuss My Dad's will and meet my new partners in the company, mom and Kelly.
I now realized that I had so much more to discuss, if I tried to tear down the ingrained subordinate feeling from my childhood. I was going to confront my family and friends after an eight-year absence.
My mother never forgave me for running away and leaving Kenny at the altar. Her social standing in the community was ruined and I was the subject of scandal that lasted for years. We spoke infrequently on the phone with each other. Imagine how the tongues all over town will wag, when I announce I am a lesbian and introduce my lover. Remember I was bringing Madison home with me, but that shock was now going to be avoided.
My sister, Kelly was an adult now, not the child I remembered. We spoke more often than I did to mom, but I missed all the years she was growing up and maturing. She was really a strange as well.
What could go wrong?
Finally, let me formally introduce myself. My name is Margaret Wilson, I am 30 years old and a single lesbian woman working in the fashion industry. I was raised in a small town in Middle America that had been ultra conservative and stuck in a 1950's model of American family life. I am the oldest of two children and have a sister Kelly, 24.
Our Mother and father divorced, when I was 15. They had a stormy marriage, but that is another story for another time. The only thing they had in common at the end were two daughters, but we were not enough to keep them together. My Dad moved to NYC and opened a business and we stayed with our mom. She was a stay-at-home mom as was expected, she worked full time caring for our home and her children. My father provided all support for us as we were growing up.
I am a hopeless romantic. I believe in fate or kismet or whatever you call it and seek true love. I like to read trashy romance novels and cry, when I watch a good Rom Com on TV. I like to think my happy ending is just around the next corner.
I am a lesbian (closeted to my own family and friends back home, but so very open here where I live.) I like to think I have a "go with the flow" personality. I always found it hard to express my true wants and needs with my girlfriends and I find deep intimacy hard to achieve. As a result, I am easily manipulated emotionally by a stronger more assertive woman.
I have had lots of casual sex, but I am lonely. I find it hard to be truly vulnerable, not trusting my romantic instincts. At this point not sure I would recognize the "right" woman, if I met her. I have met so many Ms. "wrongs" in the past. My personal life to this moment has been a series of missed signals, lost opportunities and failed relationships and this last one with Madison, the worst of them all.
You have seen that my domestic situation was a mess and other personal relationships not much better. But in my corner office and at my desk, dealing with business and the high-pressure world of fashion, I am the exact opposite, a self-confident business woman. I suspect this emotional contradiction has been there my entire life. Can going home help me resolve it?
Now my story.
I was a happy child, a moody teen and as I slipped past my eighteenth birthday and into my twenties, rather a wild young woman, lacking direction. I wanted so much more than my life here in this small town offered me, but I was not prepared for anything else except marriage. Fantasies filled my head. Some of them about a career far from the confines of my hometown and success and power. Some about living an unconventional life here. Most of my fantasies were sexual in nature and not acceptable for a well-bred young woman.
Naked, fresh from my bath, ladies did not shower, but always took scented baths. I would slip under the covers and tease myself and slowly try bring myself to orgasm. I would start my nightly ritual by slowly caressing my breasts, starting from my neck and running my soft fingers down to surround my breasts with both hands. Over and over again I would gently stroke my small mounds until the first tingle of desire stirred in my pussy. Increasing the pressure on them slightly with each pass of my hands, my fingers cupped my soft yet firm globes. My two fingers settled on my dark areolas, swirling in ever decreasing circles until I reached my tender nipples. As they hardened and become more prominent, I would pull on them with my fingertips. I began to moan to myself as I felt the first drops of my dew moisten my pussy lips.
Abandoning my swollen nibs, I Slid down my sides. I ran my fingers up and down and across my belly just above my curly and dark pubic hair. I could do this for just so long as I felt my lower lips open and spread with desire. My body began to ache for more and my fingers were eager to give me it. Exploring through the sparce curls, I found my wet lips and swollen clit and felt the first electric shock of pleasure course through me.
I imagined with my eyes closed and my fingers moving gently at first, than harder and faster, it was a lover that was pleasing me. I pushed one finger then another in me against my intact hymen, lubricated by the gooey discharge flowing freely across my hand. As I ran my fingers of one hand in and out of my wet labia, I played with my engorged clit with the other. Behind my shut eyes, I imagined face after face of unknown lovers. None of them clear enough to recognize, just indistinct vague shadows. I tried hard to center on Kenny my boyfriend from HS. I stroked my clit and touched my wet labia and even called out his name. Too often I got excited just not enough to orgasm. Something was wrong. Something was missing. I cried myself to sleep night after night. Deep inside I knew I was not cut out for the cookie cutter existence of so many of my girlfriends. Young women living in my town were expected to graduate high school, marry and raise a family.
