Author's Note:
If you're looking for a story that goes straight to the sexy bits then this one may not be for you. I hope you read it anyway but I just wanted to give fair warning that I wanted to get in depth with this story and really explore the passion that can occur between two women.
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I've often heard it said that ones' sexuality is apparent early in life. We've all seen testimonials starting with the phrase, 'I always knew I was different...'and they go on about how they never quite fit in or had to hide their feelings due to societal norms. This was not my experience.
Maybe because I've always enjoyed dating men and having sex with men, my feelings towards women (although, obvious to me now), were trapped in the common snare of convenience and fear. It was convenient because let's face it, it's always easier to meet and date men. They tend to be wowed easily and are uncomplicated in their desires; at least that has always been my experience. As for the fear, well that's because it's the unknown.
Firstly, there is the reaction of friends and family to worry about. Secondly, since I live in a quite small town filled with quite small minds; it would affect me, my reputation and likely my career. Not to mention the relationships I'd built with friends and family. Anyway, I digress. This is the tale of my journey to the other side of my sexuality; when I forgot my fear and when I was bored enough with the convenience of my situation that I opened the door to a whole other world.
It was her lips I couldn't stop dreaming about. I'd wake up feeling alive with feverish lust and excitement. It had all been a dream but it felt so real and I hadn't wanted it to be over. In a futile effort to return to the dream I would focus on her lips and hope to drift off into the sensuous land of her soft, red lips bearing down on me, (taking my own in the most tender yet intense kiss I'd yet to experience). The following day would be spent in sexual frustration and unrelenting daydreams.
Oh sure, I'd fuck my boyfriend but I could never truly feel the same desire and intrigue that her gorgeous soft, red lips would give me. Time and time again, the dream would come to me and I knew not of whom she even was, but the one thing I did know was that I needed and wanted her more than anything. There was a hunger spawning within me and the name of that hunger terrified me.
Confusion became my constant companion. Attractive women no longer intimidated me or made me envious, (in fact, I'd often catch myself checking them out). Still, I didn't understand it; I knew nothing of Kinsey and his brilliant scale of sexuality. Besides, I liked my boyfriend, Logan. I liked having sex with him and more explicitly I loved his cock. I enjoyed the feeling of it deep inside me, the weight of it in my hand and taste of it in my mouth.
I even liked all the things that some women purport not to like, such as giving head and letting him cum in my mouth. I was infatuated with his body, his muscular chest and tight abs. It was a body he'd developed the hard way; through the intensive physical labour required to become a driller on a service rig. Then there was the wonderful endurance he had from working so hard; just the thought of our marathon fuck sessions could get me tingling and damp.
Eventually it became too much. I became certain I was a total lesbian and would have to 'come out' to my parents. That doesn't seem as intense prospect at my age now but as 23-year-old apprenticing mechanic, my individuality was much more interlocked with the beliefs of my family and friends. I feared it would affect me at work. I worried about my friends and family thinking different of me. My mom always had said, 'I don't mind if you are gay but honestly, I hope you aren't because that isn't an easy path to thread.'
In hindsight, that deterred me greatly because at the time not only was she right but I hadn't yet realized that there are no easy paths in life. The path you thread must be your own and that is all.
As the weeks went on, the dreams returned sporadically and without warning. Logan was starting to notice the change in me and my boss was "disappointed" in my performance of late. After a few distracted days at work and a serious warning from my boss after some foolish mistakes, I decided I should see a therapist. I needed to deal with this and soon.
Optimistic as ever, I figured all it would take is a few sessions and the dreams would stop and I would be fully satisfied by my sex life with Logan. There would be no more visions of beautiful red lips crossing wires in my brain, no more screw ups at work and best of all; Logan didn't need to know.
Logan and I had only been dating a few months and although I liked him a lot we weren't exclusive. Our relationship just wasn't serious enough for me to confess this to him. I was scared of his judgement and worse; what if he assumed this meant unlimited threesomes with any two-bit floozy he could find at our local watering hole? In all my uncertainty I knew that was something I couldn't deal with straight away. He was a handsome man with brilliant blue eyes and dark brown hair. He was so fit and muscular with such an innate sense of humour and cheerfulness that he had the eye of many "ladies" in our small town.
I think it would be fair to say that if any woman wanted in our bed, I wouldn't be the draw. Besides, that wasn't the experience that I was craving. So there I was, armed with a plan akin to "praying the gay away" and I felt secure that this was but a passing phase. My sense of relief was cut short but I'm getting ahead of myself here.
Due to living in a small prairie town I couldn't find a private sex therapist in town so I was on my way to Saskatoon. It was a preternaturally warm day in May when I jumped in my bright red '67 Mustang convertible. I put the top down and enjoyed the unseasonably warm air blowing through my dark red hair as I took off down the highway.
The car was my baby. Dad had rescued it from the salvage yard he owned and helped me restore it. It was because of dad and this car that I decided to become a mechanic. It was also because of this car that I even met Logan; it tends to draw a lot of attention. Hell, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that I look pretty damn fine behind the wheel (yeah, that's right I used present tense, I still look damn fine in that car).
In retrospect my wardrobe choice for my first meeting with a therapist was maybe a bit risky. I wore tight leather pants that clung tightly to my curved hips and heeled leather boots with not too much of a lift, (as I am a fairly tall woman as is). My white swoop-necked tank top showed off the tops of my creamy white breasts and I felt trepidation on looking down and noticing just how much skin I was showing off. As with any woman with largish boobs; it is hard to wear certain styles without putting off a 'XXX' vibe. In my ignorance of modern day therapy, I hoped my new therapist wouldn't label me an irredeemable slut and then, not without some humour, I smiled at the ridiculous prospect of a therapist judging their client so harshly.
I wondered what she would be like.
Old? Young? Fat? Angry? Frumpy? Sexy? Some variation thereof?
I laughed out loud when the realization dawned on me that I had been picturing her as Sue Johanson this whole time. Johanson being a 70-year-old pseudo-celebrity in Canada- known for her frank and educational call-in sex talk show. Just imagine your grey-haired grandma teaching you in detail how to put a condom on properly and that's her.
As I walked into the office, I had to ignore the leers of a clearly mentally unstable gentleman. This caused me further reason to regret my choice in clothes. Looking for the receptionist, I spotted her quickly behind the desk at the front. She was a gorgeous strawberry blonde that made me want to reevaluate my whole plan of eradicating these feelings.
Her hair was tied back tightly to her head (almost severely), but nothing could diminish the sultry beauty of her face. Her green eyes met mine and she smiled brilliantly and warmly revealing a perfect smile. 'Well, if this doesn't work," I thought to myself, 'I might have to keep coming back just to see her.'
"Um, hi." I stammered- a veritable bundle of nerves all of a sudden.
