Only Memories

To my reader, it was wonderful hearing from a number of you, a few not so wonderful. I was happily surprised by how many of you said you’d miss my stories. It was a joy to hear some of you say I was your favorite author. I thank you all. This is only a temporary reprieve, my rejection becomes your gain, I really don’t think there well be any more stories.

I did learn a thing or two in the last few days, one is write what your editor requests, two if you want to write something different give her an outline, get her approval. Ok I learned three things, the third, don’t make your main character a man in a story about lesbians. My editor said her readership does not want to hear about men. I beg to differ, I’m a lesbian, I like to read about men, they are damn near half of the population.

Anyway I had my very first story rejected, basically it was about a husband’s desire to see his wife with another woman. I have always found this desire so strange, even stranger then a man’s desire to see his wife with another man. Both are complicated issues, more so then I once believed. I felt a husband’s desire for a threesome worth writing about, worth exploring because it is not uncommon for a lesbian to experience her first woman lover with, or at the insistence of, their ex-husbands.

My belief is that a lot of us repress the lesbian side of our nature because of our other needs, first and foremost of those needs being our need to bare children, be a mother. I also belief that left alone, never exploring her lesbian side, she can be somewhat happy with her man. Once she has cross that boundary, the sexual side of lesbianism, she’ll never truly be happy with a man. It really isn’t so much the sex, it’s what that brings out, the intensity of the experience, a feeling of oneness with your new lover that she can’t feel with a man, and finally admitting and knowing where her heart needs to be. The intensity of real true love, sex is never the issue, sex is sex, love is not about sex, but sex can and does help you know love, it becomes a component of a loving relationship. A lesbian feels the true love part only with another women. So in a way a man brings about his own demise by wanting his wife to be with another woman.

I don’t believe we are ever bi-curious, we are lesbian curious. To me being curious about making love to another woman is about desire not curiosity, if something isn’t missing your not going to desire something else. I hide, my first time, behind the label bi-curious, and although I didn’t admit to being a lesbian after my first time, I knew in my heart I was. Many women well never let that out of their hearts, they are doomed, their husbands are doomed right along with them, happiness is within reach but they refuse to reach for it. An easy life style, no, you hopefully find someone, you fall in move, you live as one, you fight, you argue, at times you hate, at times you love. It’s no different then any one on one relationship, but you do know it’s the right place to live. At least for me, when I was with men, it just never was the right place to live.

That said, I’m not posting that story, I like my story, I may even expand it, try to sell it else where. I’m posting an off shot of that one. That story was my first attempt to use my male voice, don’t we all have a little of both female and male. I’ve altered this story, changed it to a loving wife type story, I realize my readers at Literotica, don’t really want lesbian stories, at least not written by me, the only one I wrote got very little readership. I do want to thank my neighbor for his help in writing this. The opening part about my character’s sexual growth, of how he remembers experiencing sex, is how he remembered it. The emotions are mostly mine, my neighbor totally disagreed with me on a few things, I did alter some, eased up a bit I suppose.

I did feel moved by what I read from all of you, I took the time to rewrite this story as a gift back to all who said such wonderful, gracious things to me, I did have some time this past weekend, I spent it alone. I should not really have spent the time on this story, I have a painting I have to have finished by tomorrow. I need to finish another story by Thursday, but I do have the bases for that one, it’s my first sexual experience with another woman. I wrote a brief story about it for a friends web site about a year ago, that story was my first attempt at writing, it did kindle my desire to write.

To the man who thought I was the wicked witch of the east, for what I said to my Father, I have a comment. Yes I’m bitter, and I do have a right to my bitterness, some sins done to a little child are unforgivable. Parents, just like everyone else, have to earn a right to be loved. Some people are evil, if that evil person happens to be your Father, you don’t have to love or respect him. Death does not change that, hate goes on even after death, just like love goes on after death. You talk about forgiveness, in my way I have forgiven him as much as I can forgive. I was the dutiful daughter, I arranged for his funeral, I stood in the funeral line, I kept our secrets, I did not soil his name. Yes he was my father, there is a bond, a bond forged with a little girl who needed his love, he violated that love. You really have no right, I have to live with what he did to me, forgiveness, magic, prayers, nothing is going to change that, I’ll carry it to my grave.

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I suppose my story should start back in my childhood, growing up, what made me the person I am. What childhood drama, caused my unnatural desire, If there was anything to tell, I would. My childhood was just plain uneventful, normal as far as I can tell. Nice parents, not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. My mother was a little cold, at least to me she was, she didn’t seem to be that way with my brother and sisters, but who knows, maybe that is just sibling revelry. My father had a horrible temper, screamed, yelled and at times throw things, but I can’t say he ever abused me and he did take interest in my athletics, along with fishing and hunting. We did have a knock down drag out fight when I was 18, I’d love to blame that all on my Dad, it’s nice to blame your parents isn’t it, but I was an obnoxious kid at the time. I had a sister almost two years older, we never were close but we got alone, a brother just over two years younger, a normal relationship, we fought a lot but we also did things together, and then there was my little sister, close to five years younger, we were close. I played the roll of big brother in her life. I did enjoy that roll.

The only other part of my early life worth mentioning would be my Christian up bringing. We did church, lots and lots of it. Church school and church every week, bible study, church choir, I can’t sing, church camp, retreats, I assume you get the picture. The thing about Christianity, at least my parents version, is that no matter what you do, it’s wrong. You eat to much candy, that’s gluttony, a sin, your friend gets a new bike, you wish it was your, that’s coveting, a sin, you mention it and it’s a sin, but it seemed to me, the worst sin of all is sex. There is a certain logic in that, teach your children it’s wrong, they won’t fuck, if they don’t fuck then there isn’t any unwanted children, or unwanted disease. Logical or not, sex is inevitable, at least for most, it may only happen after marriage, but no matter when it happens that child is going to feel guilty about sex even when they are an adult. Feeling guilty and not doing something are two different things. You can, to a certain extent, get over that, but there is always that hidden feeling of guilt.

I can’t really pin point the first time I felt attracted to girls, but I do remember a girl I was in grade school with, 2nd grade. I had a major crush on her. I also remember discussing girls at boy scout camp, fifth grade summer I think, it was the first time that I remember really talking about the sexual aspect of girls with other boys. Talk about some really stupid ideas we all had. Being really, really attracted to girls, attracted enough to rather be with one of them then my buddies, I’d have to guess 7th or 8th grade. It had to be then because I was going steady with a girl in 8th grade, as steady as it can be when your that young.

Sexual experiences with girls, I’d guess that was pretty normal to, started with the kissing, then trying to get a feel, being stopped a number of times before that happened. Progressing to getting to feel a girls bare breast, again being stopped a lot of times before I succeeding. I remember being, for a while, obsessed with girls breasts, looked a lot, loved feeling them, touching them, and oh my god the first time I got to suck one was marvelous. Perhaps, I need to mention that I did find out girls like their breasts stimulated, I only mention this because at first you think the girls are only doing this for your benefit, I suppose it’s correct, guys don’t mature very fast. When I mastered that, along with dating a girl long enough, I finally got into a girl’s pants, I learned real fast that stimulating a girls pussy, was way more of a turn on for her then her breasts. As the girls got a little older and bolder, they started to get curious to, they’d do a little rubbing of their own, it was just an amazing experience the first time a girl touched my bare penis. I still remember the first time a girl masturbated me to ejaculation.

I was in a way unlucky, I met a girl who was a senior in high school. I knew all about her, she was a cheer leader, very hot, and it was rumored she fucked. At that age, a rumor was in our young minds a fact. I did get to find out if she fucked or not, I wish I hadn’t. I did learn a awful lot about women’s sexual needs. Up until I dated her, the sexual parts of woman’s body meant to me her lips, breasts and pussy. I can’t say I learned a lot, I didn’t, but I started to realize kissing and feeling other parts of her body would turn her on. I learned what a clitoris was, maybe not by name but I knew how much she loved to have it played with. I even learned she liked oral sex, of course that created a problem for me, if anything was a major sin, worst then all others during sex it was oral sex, I became kind of adverse to doing it. I did because if I did, she’d suck on me for a few minutes. But I hated giving her oral, it was hard to suppress my urge to gag. Why gagging I don’t know, she really didn’t smell bad, well a few time she did but most of the time not. In away her scent was very erotic, very stimulating. Maybe my liking the way she smelled made me feel even guiltier. Anyway I developed an aversion to giving oral, which is absurd when you think about it, I didn’t develop that same aversion for receiving it.

I might as well admit it, when I finally did fuck her, I came to fast, maybe it was worse that first time but I can’t say I have a lot of staying power, four, five minutes tops. She surely let me know I’d come to fast that first time, and the next and the next and the next. Yes it did cause a bit of a complex, a constant fear that during intercourse that I’ll cum to soon, which I do most of the time. But unlike oral, I did not develop and aversion to fucking.

Despite all of that I considered myself a sexual dynamo, I figured I was a great lover. I didn’t get a lot of chance to test that theory, a number of women, but none I was sufficiently serious about to spend long enough with for them to tell me I wasn’t. Maybe if I’d had a long term relationship with a more experience woman, she would have told me, helped me improve. My feeling I was a great lover was an illusion, admittedly I had some self doubts. I never did find that experienced lover, if I did, she wasn’t willing to teach me, it could be either of those. Then during my 1st year of law school, I met Carla, my future wife, that ended my sexual relationships with women. I mean that literally, as you’ll see it was a while before I had sex again, at least sex I didn’t have with my own hand.

I was instantly attracted to Carla, it wasn’t just her looks either, although she is a beautiful woman, long thick blonde hair, blue gray eyes, they sparkle, very classic facial features, like a fashion models, someone you’d find on the cover of Cover Girl. Just over 5’ 8" tall, slender but not skinny, an athletic build, almost perfect legs and rear. Not really big breasted but then again not small either. I was at first attracted to her looks, what man wouldn’t have been, but Carla had such a warm, loving, personality. The kind of personality that even if she hadn’t been so attractive, a person would still have been infatuated with her.

There was a shyness about Carla, not so much shyness as apprehensiveness about being around men. I’m almost sure, I never would have gotten to know her if our involvement hadn’t been as part of a study group. As time went on, I found her to be intelligent, persuasive, and at times very argumentative. Her study habit were excellent, she was at the top of our class, and was going to make an excellent attorney, everyone knew that. She wanted to be a criminal lawyer, and we were all sure she’d make a good trial attorney, she just had that talent. As for me, it wasn’t a sure thing I was going to make it at all, if Carla hadn’t, for some strange reason, taken an interest in me, I wouldn’t have.

I fell hard, head over heals, in love with her, she on the other hand didn’t seem interested in me one bit. As a friend I guess, as someone she felt sorry for, yes, but I don’t think the idea of me being her lover even crossed her mind. Maybe it was her drive, she was focused on one thing, graduating top in her class, and being that she didn’t have money, she also worked nights at a club waiting tables. Surely, I would have given up if there had been someone else in her life, but there wasn’t. At least not locally and she never talked about any men, so I assumed there wasn’t anyone at home.

Over time our relationship grew, I don’t really know what happened, but suddenly we were becoming involved, it started slow but it did build until one day she told me she loved me. After that a lot of things came out, Carla had never been with a man before, only ever dated a few. Her father had died when she’d been little, her mother had remarried when Carla was eleven, a very abusive man. As Carla told the story, her mother had tried to protect her and her brother, but she couldn’t. Her mother was afraid, almost paralyzed by the fear, she’d move them out, get a protective order but her step father would always find them. As her mother’s punishment for leaving he’d always beat Carla and her brother, then threaten to kill them if she didn’t come back. Finally her mother just gave up. When Carla was sixteen, he’d raped her, when Carla’s mother came in to her room trying to stop him, he beat her unconscious, then raped Carla again. The only good thing that happened from all of this was that her step father ended up in prison.

Carla still lived in fear of her stepfather, he’d threatened to kill all of them when he got out of prison. His sentence, in her mind, wasn’t nearly as severe as it should have been. There would come a day when he’d be released from prison, she feared that day. It also explained to me her wanting to be a criminal attorney, a prosecutor, and her drive to be the best.

I was the first man she’d trusted in a very long time, despite that our relationship grew very slowly, almost at a snails pace. We both graduated from school, she got the job she wanted, I took a job with a very small law firm, just to stay close to her. I can’t really explain why but I had this overwhelming desire to get her over her distrust of men, she didn’t distrust me, that should have been enough. I made some friends at work, nice men, men I knew Carla could feel comfortable with, did things with them and their girlfriends or wives. Over time she did start to get over that apprehension, started to interact with other men, even men she’d just met, but I was still her man. I’m not saying that all of a sudden Carla lost all of her distrust and suspicion when it came to men, she still kept taking her self defense classes, and it did take a lot to allow a man into her inner circle, and become friends.

It was still a change, even the way she dressed changed, no longer were her clothes all oversize, almost hiding the fact she was a women. She no longer only wore pants suits to work, she changed to suits with skirts. She’d now wear skirts and dresses that were shorter, above the knee, not those the covered almost all of her legs. Her jeans now showed her shapely body instead of down playing it. Lower cut tops became common, in a way her complete wardrobe changed. Even her undergarments became sexier. I wouldn’t want you to get the impression Carla dressed slutty, that was not the case, refined but sensual would describe her manor of dress better.

I want you to understand, during this whole period of time we hadn’t had sex. That isn’t really correct, we had sex, some necking and petting, it did start to get more intense about the same time Carla got over her fear of men. We didn’t have intercourse until after she accept my invitation of marriage, I don’t care to count the number of times she’d said no.. For me that was the most wonderful experience of my life. I don’t think it was for Carla, she was so tense, but it was a big step for her. It wasn’t long before she did start to enjoy the experience, I can’t say she ever went wild, but in my mind she loved every minute of it. I really don’t know what went on in her mind, she really didn’t have anything to compare making love to me with. I want to believe she at least liked having sex with me, I know now she didn’t love having sex with me.

A little over a year after we were engaged Carla and I were married. We really did have a good marriage, we both worked hard, but we also play hard to. And we did everything together. During that time this amazing bubbly part of her personality emerged, she could laugh at just about anything, she was a joy to be around. It wasn't just me that realized that, our group of friends just kept growing. People were drawn to her, I felt special, she made me feel that way. I really have to believe that other men had to be jealous of me, she didn’t hide her love for me, everyone knew I was her man, her lover and her best friend. That is how I felt about her to, I’m just not good at showing that. If there was a flaw in our marriage it was the lack of children, Carla did want children, just later, I wanted them right away.

Funny things happen to people, things they would never believe possible, that is what happened to me. I’ve read some stories about it, seems that most men can put their finger on the very time it happened, I can’t. What ever caused it, maybe it was always there, I don’t know, it just seemed to appear. One day Carla and I were out for a run, we passed some men, I heard one of them comment, as we ran by, "I’d sure like to fuck that lady." OK the comment wasn’t that nice, but that is what he meant. I started thinking about just that, some man fucking Carla, I started getting hard, right there, right then, in front of god and everyone. I should have been getting mad, and I was getting hard. In a way my reaction scared me, but that fear didn’t stop me from thinking about it. At first it was only an occasional thought but it finally crept into my love making. In all honesty it became an obsession, I had to see Carla with another man.

I’d love to hide behind uncontrollable desire as my excuse for wanting this, it would be easier to just blame the subconscious, but the honest truth is I knew exactly what I was doing. It really was never an uncontrollable urge, I could have put a stop to my feelings, I could have changed them. I didn’t want to change them, I got pleasure from my fantasies, I got sexual satisfaction from them. Deep down I did feel inadequate as a lover, I did want to see her cry out in ecstasy, I did want to see her lust for sex but I also knew she was happy with me, both as a husband and a lover, she never wanted more.