Outer Banks Marjorie

I am a 60+ year old bi woman. Many of my stories, originate in memories and recent events in my life. All contain a combination of real and fictional characters with names changed as appropriate to protect the 'guilty.' They are memoirs spiced with a kinky imagination. I am submissive by natural inclination in most relationships, most often extremely submissive in sex.

If you like kinky mature women I hope you will enjoy my stories and comment on what you liked and perhaps didn't like to help me improve.

I apologize in advance if my stories seem to be just a continuation of my life journal. Where possible I will provide a reference back to the story that provides the necessary background and I sometimes, to better frame the scene, include passages from stories I have previously published.

From my story OUTER BANKS

As Charles and I climbed the stairs to my cabin he said, "I'll come by tomorrow to fetch Annie. I know her, I saw how she and Bailey were looking at each other all through dinner and I'm sure Annie will be staying the night."

We were in the cabin now. Charles picked up his keys from the counter and with me in tow started for the back door and his car. I stopped walking and pulled him back. "Charles, can a girl at least get a kiss goodnight?" He leaned in and kissed me. A gentle, soft, I love you kiss.

I took his hand and led him into the bedroom, saying, "Instead of coming to get her in the morning, wouldn't it be easier to just invite them over for breakfast?"

Standing in the bedroom with the moonlight coming in the window, the only light in the room, we kissed again, this time at his initiative, and slowly took each other's clothing off caressing every part that we revealed. As we stood naked in each other's arms I felt his body reacting to mine as he hardened and began to push against me. He moaned just a little when I reach down and grasped it stroking him gently.

We moved to the bed and almost fell in. This was not the man I remembered this was a new gentle considerate loving man but still a man who knew what he wanted in bed and took it. I needed that.

He pushed my head down to take him in my mouth and later when he returned the feeling with his mouth and tongue he did not stop until I was feeling the waves of the first of the orgasms I would have that night.

When he held, sucked on and caressed my breasts he kiddingly said, "I remember being here before. Thanks for taking care of my girls all this time." How could he know I call them them my girls.

The sex we had was not anything like I expected. It was fun, light hearted and kinky with lots of dirt talk and yet many very intense moments.

Charles seemed to know me and my needs almost as though we had been lovers for years. When he entered me he was careful to wait for me. When the wave of pleasure from my orgasm was just fading he did not stop, he intensified his thrusts slamming my hyper sensitive clit over and over pushing me to an orgasm that seemed to go on forever, wave after wave wracking my body with pleasure.

Later as we lay in each other's arms and still later with him spooning behind me I saw that the narrow shaft of that new moon moonlight coming in crossing over us in the bed.

He whispered, "Annie, I love you!"

Three months later, on the beach, I changed my name and started a new life. I became Anne Marie LaVeau Johnson. My ancestors would be proud of the woman I had finally become. My family including Charles still call me Robin and that is fine.

~~~

OUTER BANKS -- Marjorie

A King Tide happens when the sun and moon align to change the gravitational pull on oceans. These especially high tides can cause or worsen coastal flooding. When King Tides, what I call Voodoo Tides, happen they can bring change not just to the ocean, the shore, but also to my life and my direction.

That Voodoo Tide night, Charles actually did leave for home I only stopped him in a dream. My marriage on the beach only happened in that same dream.

Charles is a good man, a wonderful lover and a friend BUT I do not love him. I was hoping that our friendship would grow into love as it did for me and Beth but it did not happen.

After he leaves that night I am alone on the deck of my cabin, it's late and I am drinking again. That is bad but it dims everything, all the pain and that is good. I'm sure I can hear Bailey and Annie, laughing in the cabin next door.

I am still missing Beth. She has been gone almost two years now and there is not a day, not one fucking single day, that her memory does not haunt me. As I walk the beach I imagine some of her ashes have washed up onto the sand and perhaps her spirit is walking beside me.

Bailey, like her mom Beth, seems to be uncompromisingly bi. I still greatly regret what happened with her. A mother should never, not even a step mom. (Dear reader, read my story BAILEY for details of what happened.)

Some time after her fling with Annie was over and she returned to New England, Bailey sent me a picture of her with her current lover, a black girl, and my heart stopped. I could have been looking at a picture of myself with her mom Beth thirty years ago. I cried.

Making love to Bailey was perhaps the biggest mistake of my life. She could be Beth at 30, her voice, her body, her mannerisms, her face, her kiss, everything.

I am not going back to Florida. I belong here, on this beach, in this little house. It is paid for and I could, some day perhaps, be a legend black lady beach bum. So, I have no woman in my life, I have a wonderful man I don't love. I will start over, let Charles go and find again someone, a man or woman, I love so much that without them I would die.

I can live a Lesbian life or a heterosexual life but having both, I fear, is not going to happen again for me. I'm too old.

The bottom line is I'm starting to think I actually need a year or two alone. Too much has happened, far too quickly.

~~~

Bailey has gone back to her life in New England and Annie has gone off to school in Colorado, very far from mother ocean. Charles stays in touch, an occasional breakfast or nice walk on the beach, but he did not take rejection well and I fear I have done forever damage to our friendship. He may never really understand but he is a great guy and will find a much better woman than me, one who actually loves him.

I am attempting some minor renovation of the rental cottage next door and building a carport next to my cottage to shield my convertible from the sun. It says a lot that Charles referred me to a friend rather than taking the job himself.

I'm staying here in my 600 square feet for the foreseeable future. The ocean is my healing balm and Beth is just offshore waiting to swim with me. I need more time to say goodbye.

The other cabin went back on the rental market last Friday.

~~~

When one door closes.......

On an early morning walk this week I met a woman who looked to be about my age. I was just at the turning point of my morning two mile walk and she was coming the other way with her little dog Daisy. We said hello at the same time, nice and easy. We walked and talked and I found out her name is Marjorie, yes the old fashioned spelling. She was staying at one of the dreadful "upscale" hotel / resorts on the beach about 1/2 mile beyond my cottage.

When we approached my house she still had some distance to travel so I invited her in for morning coffee and Daisy for a cool drink. Sitting on my deck under the awning I learned a little more about her. Marjorie told me she was on the second week of an "escape." Her husband of thirty-five years died of Covid early in the pandemic and she returned to the ocean to, like me, grieve and plan next steps.

Nice woman. After a quick tour of my cabin, we talked about what it was like to live in a small space and about rentals. When she was planning her escape she was looking for a long term rental like my cabin. I explained that I owned the cabin I live in. Like it was scripted she said it was exactly what she wanted. I told her the name of the rental agent for the cabin next door but did not tell her I owned it.

Talking to her was like reading a book by opening it at random places. Disconnected snippets of her life and history, her opinions about politics and her views on sexual relationships and simple friendship. Like looking in a mirror on some things, polar opposites on others.

We talked about her husband, a dentist, my wife Beth and both families. When I mentioned Beth she said she had "girlfriends" off and on her entire life. Don't know why, I didn't really take offense, but I felt a need to clarify and told her that Beth was more than just a girlfriend, she was my wife.

Marjorie just smiled and told me that she understood but the only difference, she thought, was that she was married and had a husband she loved and one child by him when she met the first woman she loved. She was, I felt, very open and honest with me, a virtual stranger, about her sexuality almost to the point of being blunt. She told me it all worked out when, after struggling with the problem, she was honest with her hubby and shared that woman and later others with him. Marjorie told me how she felt the first time the three of them were together, being jealous of both and not really wanting to share either. She smiled, touched my hand and told me she didn't know why she was telling me all this, she had never shared those feelings with anyone.

As we talk I notice that Marjorie has a tattoo bracelet on her right wrist. Very narrow but extremely detailed and colorful, "a gift from a lover" she said. I also notice that she has a blue Dolphin tattooed to the left side of her neck with what appears to be a date under it, perhaps a name in script. I find myself wondering, no wanting to see, what other art is hidden on her body under her clothing.

She ended the conversation in an interesting way, almost inviting me to push the subject, by saying that even as she moves into her sixties she still loves sex but now, complicated relationships are more difficult to manage and most often unnecessary for sexual relief and pleasure. She told me that for her, sex these days is better characterized as "catch and release." If the chemistry is there sex might follow, then again maybe not, but never really more than sex and perhaps friendship, certainly not love. Marjorie explained further that her relationship with her hubby was what she thought was very traditional with him almost always taking the initiative in sex. Her "other life" as she put it, the women in her life over the years, the times with both her hubby and her woman, was just the opposite with her taking a decidedly dominant role.

She is looking directly in my eyes. She pauses and puts her hand tentatively on my knee. I feel her warmth travel along my thigh to my center. She says, "I sometimes paint as a hobby. Deep in your eyes I see green. I would love to paint your portrait someday and try to capture that color. Who knows what the future might hold."

I find myself questioning my own chemistry with her. She sees it in my expression and smiles inviting me to push the question. I do not.

Marjorie is 61. I initially think, but do not know, that she is mixed race. Light olive skin, perhaps part Italian with maybe some Hispanic ancestors. In this day of often blended race my imagination runs wild. Could she just be a White girl with an early summer tan?

Not at all average, her firm breasts are round and high on her chest. Her nipples, visibly pressing against her top suggest she is not wearing a bra. She has the very blond hair that screams Norwegian ancestors and eyes that are the steel light blue that drills holes.

We part company both saying we hoped to see each other again. When she stoops to harness her dog I see very clearly that she is wearing a thong and her revealed pale butt cheeks hint that her olive skin may indeed be just that early summer tan. A long, also colorful, scroll tattoo is on her low back partly hidden just above the top of her shorts.

As she walks away I see from her toned very defined legs that she, like me, spends a lot of time walking. I see her look back at the rental cottage. She sees me watching and smiles and waves. I watch her walk and see more clearly the tan lines of her halter top and shorts covering very clearly defined muscular butt cheeks working under the fabric as she walks.

I find myself wondering if when people watch me walking away they think I also look sexy. I sometimes, ok often, think the most sexy, most beautiful part of a woman's body is her butt and legs.

~~~~

The rental agent called me on Monday afternoon. There is an offer to lease the cottage through Thanksgiving at a price lower than weekly rentals but...cash in advance and with the pandemic rentals have been far from dependable. The cabin is less rented after Labor Day as well, so I took the offer. I asked if Nancy, the rental agent, had done a background check and she confirmed, Marjorie Driscoll, a recent widow, 61 years old, retired special needs teacher, a perfect credit score, three adult children, two grandchildren who will be visiting and a small dog that she needs permission to have with her in the cabin. I asked Nancy to not say anything about me owning the cottage.

Another door opens? At least a friend I think? Someone to walk the beach with?

Life went on at Blue Heron cottage. Yes, I have named my cabin. I even went out and bought one of those signs that until now I thought we're quite tacky. As I nailed it in place over the beach side door I was thinking that a dark feathered Great Blue lives it's life with all the other predominately white shore birds. They live in harmony. If only we humans could do the same. I also bought a sign for the rental cottage. It read "Dolphin." Maybe, just maybe, I'm reminded of her tattoo, that name will mean something to Marjorie.

A foolish woman thinks foolish things. My most recent foolishness came when for some reason I cannot fathom, except for Marjorie, I decided that I too needed a tattoo. Imagine the look on the tattoo artists face when I asked about it. He is a light skinned Black man with arms covered with colorful tattoos. He was honest and polite and asked what I had in mind and warned me that given my skin tone, even in color "image definition" would be a challenge. He stepped carefully around the fact that on my skin any tattoo was going to be barely visible. When I explained what I wanted, why and where I wanted it he agreed.

The skin of my breasts, especially in winter, is lighter. I asked him to tattoo on my right breast the outline of a Dolphin jumping over the letter "B."

Marjorie was scheduled to move in at the end of June, just in time for the 4th of July holiday. I called Nancy, my real estate agent, again and asked that she be sure the cleaning service did an exceptional job. Nancy knows wine so I asked her to personally select wines to fill the cottage wine rack. We also agreed that the cottage needed new fresh, quality linens, sheets, bath towels and a few colorful beach towels. She agreed to see to it. She suggest and I agreed that a welcome basket might be appropriate with local specialty foods and a selection of current Outer Banks attraction brochures and a book about the history of the area.

~~~~

Every year at the end of June I participate in a reunion with the three women who helped me start the business we eventually sold. We were and still are, "The Four!" Each year we get together in a different place. One of us plays hostess and decides the location and makes hotel, meal, tour and sometimes even 'bail' arrangements. We each pay for our own travel to the chosen destination but all other costs are split equally.

We have been to Disney Land, Puerto Rico, Jamaica, the Galápagos Islands, the Florida Keys and several National Parks. This year it is Melany's turn and I'm delighted she chose Charleston South Carolina as our destination, close enough to drive and very familiar low country territory. Mel moved to Charleston a few years ago when she met Julia.

Melany was the first non-technical person we hired. It only took a few months in business for us to realize that we needed someone to "run the office" if we were going to succeed and not work ninety-five hours a week. I hired Melany when in the interview she told me, "Hire me and I will be your Personnel, Admin and Finance departments. I will help you get the funding you need to grow the business and eventually sell it."

Melany did all that she said she would and more. A year later my two partners and I made her the fourth owner/partner of the company. Four woman out to beat the world! Melany's education and background were in finance and she constantly outpaced us all with her investment savvy. In the years following the sale she grew her wealth and helped the three of us with investment advice that gave us all financial independence.

Our destination this year is Melany's home. Two years ago Mel and Julia bought a historic plantation home on a river near Charleston. We also this year, get to meet Julia, " Julie", for the first time. Meeting Julie is a compromise from a suggestion a few years ago that we include our husbands and wives in the annual reunion. That plan worked for a couple of years but people die and get divorced and sometimes just don't have a husband or wife to bring along. We very quickly abandoned the idea.

Julie is an exception, I think, because she is a woman and "The Four" are all women and we can't expect her to move out of her own home while we visit. I have also, after some conversation with Melany, come to think Julie is a "TrophyWife" if it's even possible for a woman to have a "Trophy Wife." We'll see.

Melany is a lesbian with little or no experience with or interest in men and was when we hired her. At that time I was married to a man and I guess, as you might think, I was heterosexual. Melany in her own way helped me confirm my bi-sexual nature. Mary and Stephanie, the other partners, were heterosexual but neither were married at that time.

In those early days Melany and I talked about everything. I confided in her the problems I was having with my husband and the swinger lifestyle he wanted us to live. Melany was the first person to suggest I might be sexually submissive. I had not actually thought about that, not in the way she presented it. She is the first person in my life to say out loud that my sexual preference is to "do as I am told." She was and is correct. She is also the first person to help me explore it.

About six months after Melany joined us and after she and I had worked many late nights together I received an internal email from an email address I did not recognize. It read simply."I know that I can have my way with you." I had not heard (read) the phrase 'have my way with you' in a long time but I knew what it meant. The email continued, "If you want to know more, and play the game, simply reply 'Yes' to this email. Do not mention this email to anyone or try to find out who I am."

This happened at a time when I was under considerable stress and I needed the break from daily business routine. I replied "Yes."

Sometime later, maybe a few days, I received another email. "You will receive email 'tasks." You can back out of this at any time for any reason. Simply reply 'Stop' to any task assignment. Your first task is simple and a test of sorts. Remove your bra and put it in the top left drawer of your desk. I will retrieve it from there for my own pleasure later. Put your blouse back on and unbutton the top four buttons. Remain that way for the rest of the day. I know you have a meeting with clients today. Give them a thrill."

I did what I was told.

The following day the bra was gone but nothing else happened for about a week.