EDITED BY:
Miriam Belle (second draft)
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
-This story is weird.. I don't know what it is nor would I try to classify it. It has incest, exhibitionism, voyeurism and lesbianism. It simply is what it is. Please pardon any typos and enjoy the ambiguity! --bluefox07
* * *
Everything is relative.
For example, some people build their lives around an event or particular sport. John Jones revolved his life around the NFL, from the pre-season practice to the final moments of the Super Bowl post-game analysis. He was a big man with a big love for the game. He might have told you he put on the seventy extra pounds on his six-foot frame from a gland disorder or from having a wife who served portions of dinner far too generous for a man trying to stay in shape. The reality of it was by the time he turned twenty five, John had already joined the ever-growing ranks of American males who fattened up whilst planted on the couch in their sweats and t-shirts, hands buried deep in the flimsy plastic bags that held their potato chips.
On the opposite side of this coin was his wife Lindsay. Upon the discovery that her husband was more interested in watching touchdowns scored on television rather than making a score with her, she decided to pursue other interests. Sex was an every other night occasion in the schedule of their marriage, which had been fine when they tied the knot back in 2000. To her dismay his lust for creativity in the bedroom had gone the way of his regular exercise habits and she found herself on the short end of a depressingly routine stick.
Lindsay knew she couldn't cheat on John. She knew that if she wanted to, she very well could have done so with the greatest of ease. She was a very beautiful woman in the context of suburban housewives. Her appeal was a subtly sexy one, her fourth generation Irish-Italian looks both exotic and fetching. She watched what she ate and ran every day. She had even bought herself one of those Ab Lounge machines off a television infomercial.
John had claimed it was rip off, but when she began to see definition in her long flat sometimes-toneless stomach she was converted to a full-fledged believer. Her only complaint was that even now, after six months of using the thing she still couldn't figure out how to store it under the bed without taking the whole damn thing apart.
The thought of cheating crossed her mind often, but she resisted the idea.
As John had centered his life on the gridiron, Lindsay centered hers on her one real passion: writing. In the morning, while John worked at the office Lindsay committed four hours from six to ten to her craft. She had high hopes of someday publishing a novel, but she honed her skills online. She had been a Literotica writer for a year by the time the annual "Nude Day Story Contest" came up on the message boards at the site. She had never entered a contest before, instead choosing to focus on her small collection of stories.
Her work was well received in most cases, though her one venture into lesbianism was thoroughly shot down from the moment it was posted on the site. She had submitted forty stories to the site and all of them, save for the lesbian opus "Jessica loves Rachel," had been rewarded with voting scores 4.5 and above. John savored a touchdown on the field while Lindsay relished in the success of a new erotic story. It was a release for her as much as it was a turn-on.
Maybe that's why the failure of "Jessica loves Rachel" was so hard to accept.
It was a cool morning on the day she decided to sit down and write her submission for the Nude Day Contest. Lindsay had just finished with her morning run and shower, sitting down at her desk dressed in a baggy white t-shirt and her spandex shorts. She had pulled her shoulder length dark hair away from her face in a ponytail as she adjusted in her seat and turned on the computer.
She had been wracking her brain for days to come up with something fresh and new for her entry. Lindsay wanted it to be fun and sexy, and yet be something that was relatively new. As with many of her stories, she discovered that the execution of the idea was to be far more difficult than the conception.
Lindsay stared at the computer screen for an hour, her blue eyes filled with a thoughtful desperation as she played with different ideas. She knew she wanted to step out from her normal ventures in the categories of Erotic Couplings and Horror. She leaned back in her comfortable computer chair, stretching her arms out above her head.
After another fifteen minutes of dead ends, Lindsay logged onto the Literotica website and read her feedback reviews. For some reason, she opened the page that had the scathing reviews of "Jessica loves Rachel" and began browsing them again. She knew them all by heart and the act of looking at them again was borderline self-inflicted torture for her. Her chin resting in her palm, she scrolled down and read them one by one.
"It was a nice try," she read out loud the last comment posted, an in depth review by a woman named "the_conquering_clit," and sighed, "The descriptions of your main characters were perfect, but the sex was flat and tepid. Maybe you should research your subject matter a little more? If you do, record it on tape and send it to me! Ha Ha... --TCC"
Lindsay rolled her eyes, "Yeah, I'll get right on that..."
Research the subject matter more? Lindsay knew that she was knowledgeable when it came to a lot of the aspects of sex, but lesbianism was an area she knew little about. She had seen movies and late night cable shows that portrayed the taboo subject, but even then she had felt somewhat removed from it. The magazines John kept hidden in the footlocker in the back of the bedroom closet were wholly dedicated to the idea of women loving women.
What did Mrs. The Conquering Clit expect her to do? Go out and try lesbianism on for size?
The phone rang, startling Lindsay out of her thoughts. She picked up the cordless phone and said, "Hello?"
"Hey babe," John said, "How ya doing?"
"I'm fine," Lindsay sighed. The truth was, she was anything but fine.
"Listen, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind me going to Jackie's for a beer after work?"
Jackie's... the biggest sports bar in the city and also home of the most sexed up waitresses in the north county. Lindsay felt the urge to say no, to simply tell him if he wanted to flirt and get tipsy he could do it here with her. She wanted to say all that, but she didn't. Instead, after a long pause she replied, "Sure. That would be fine, John."
"Really?" he sounded surprised.
Lindsay nodded and looked back at the computer screen, "Sure."
"Okay, that's great," John said enthusiastically, "I'll be home late so don't expect me home for dinner."
"Okay," Lindsay said absently as an idea began to form in her mind, "No problem."
"Love you babe," John said and hung up the phone.
"You too," she said to no one.
Lindsay hung the phone up and sat back in her chair as her brain toyed with ideas she couldn't believe she was thinking. John's preference to be at the sports bar had spurred her in a very specific way to think outside her comfort zone. She surprised herself by imagining herself with another woman in an intimate setting. It wasn't something she had really considered before outside the writing of "Jessica loves Rachel." Perhaps Mrs. The Conquering Clit was on to something with her suggestion.
Lindsay couldn't help but blush as she considered her options. The first rule of writing and writing well is to write about what you know. The further a person got from their experience the more subjective and speculative the writing became. Something was lost in the translation between the idea and the words. She could see that now as she thought back on her previous stories in comparison to the shunned selection of "Jessica loves Rachel."
"Write what you know," she said to herself.
Her determination to put an entry into the Nude Day Story Contest fueled the desire to write her penultimate story and finally tackle the one subject she couldn't understand. She would write a story about a woman dabbling in lesbianism and further more, her tactics to seduce her first lover would involve a lot of nudity. It was a rough concept, and if she was too heavy handed about it she might give birth to another dud of a yarn. She decided it would be the whole truth of her adventure, whether it ended successfully or not.
Lindsay stood up from the computer and took a deep breath. She thought of John and his buddies at the bar as they would be tonight, laughing and guffawing over the day's events and the game on the big screen television set. She could easily envision John flirting in his not-so-subtle manner with the busty little waitresses and eyeing them like a man who hasn't seen food or water in three days. She wasn't beyond feeling resentful over these scenarios, but she would not allow herself to become bitter.
If John didn't like what he had at home, then that was fine.
Lindsay walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. She let her dark hair fall down around her shoulders and then after a moment of contemplation, she pulled her shirt off. Her naked torso was tanned with naturally olive skin, her full breasts hanging down slightly more than she would have liked, but once past the age of thirty the laws of gravity weren't so kind to busty women. Lindsay was no exception, and though her 42DD breasts were anything but saggy, she had noticed a few light stretch marks on the slopes of her pear shaped breasts.
She cupped her large tits in her hands and moved them around, massaging them and squeezing them. Her nipples were already hard, indicators that her decision to explore her sexuality outside her marriage was indeed a serious turn-on. The nubs were rock solid and extended out from the dark brown areolas like twin spikes. Lindsay rubbed them back and forth between her fingers gently, watching herself in the mirror. A small shiver tickled the back of her neck and then shot down her spine to the interior depths of her sex.
Once her shorts were off, she appraised herself in the mirror, taking time to objectively critique her body. She was a few pounds overweight, of that she was certain. While she had muscle definition, she often felt her thighs were a little too thick and that her ass was more akin to two basketballs grafted to her backside. Still, she couldn't deny that many men would glance at her behind when she walked by. She could feel their eyes on her and she knew that even though she had little more curve than other women, she was still very much an eye catcher. This realization both embarrassed and flattered her, but she was thankful for it regardless.
She figured there were worse ways to be.
"How the hell am I going to do this?" she looked into her own light blue eyes, half hoping that her reflection would have an answer for her. Lindsay had always imagined her reflection to be the stronger, more aggressive woman in the equation of her personal mental makeup. The reflection was the side of her personality that motivated her and took risks. She was fearless and sexually confident when it came to men and now, for women as well. Where other women might see a funhouse mirror image of their bodies to the point of disgust, Lindsay was lucky to see the woman she wanted to be.
Lindsay left the bathroom and walked back into the living room. The morning sun was now breaking through the blinds of the windows and casting broken light on the floor and walls. Lindsay felt excited, more so than she had felt in a long time. Her heart was beating as she planned her next move. When the inspiration struck her, she thought she might pass out. She didn't know very many women here in the city, but she did know one.
"No," she shook her head and put her hand on her chin as she paced around the coffee table. But her desire to pursue this new venture had captivated her, and in doing so arousing her. She could feel the tingling of anticipation in her sex and she couldn't deny the frankly pornographic images flooding her mind.
"This is wrong," she whispered as she picked up the phone and began entering the number.
The phone rang once and she felt a little dizzy. She imagined John coming home to find her naked and unconscious on the floor from hitting her head on the coffee table. She also could very well imagine him turning right around and heading back out to enjoy himself just a little bit longer.
And he would too.
Another ring, and Lindsay feared she might not be home.
