(Continued from Entry Nine)
Did I mention how sexy she was? Flaming red locks with flicks of blonde hung loosely down her back. Her body was tall, toned, with peach hued skin. With full, ripe lips, they were a temptation I was eager to taste. Thankfully, she wore a bikini that hugged in all the right places As the lush swell of her breasts spilled over her top- even at a distance- I glimpsed the outline of her nipples. She had a narrow waist and curvy hips. I followed the line of her long, taut legs. Black leather, knee-high boots completed he erotic picture.
As I continued to admire my view, I was anything but content. No amount of alcohol could numb the desire I felt. The longer I watched her, the hornier I became. Maddening thoughts swirled around in my head. I wanted to smell her scent. Make her shiver as I ran my tongue up her neck. Take her breasts in my hands, and lick her nipples till they hardened. Did she shave her pussy? I wanted to feel for myself. What sounds did she make when she was turned on? And to add to the insanity, my panties were drench from my own arousal. What to do?
Who wants to get a lap dance? My mind blissfully preoccupied, I barely registered the conversation at my table, until that one question almost had me falling out of my chair. It suddenly felt like Christmas, and I was being given the greatest gift. In my mind, I screamed. “Me! I’ll do it!”
Suddenly, all eyes fell upon me. The guys were grinning like Cheshire cats, including my husband. The ladies all wore stunned expressions. Realization dawned that I had voiced my willingness OUT LOUD. While momentarily horrified, there was no taking it back. Honestly, now that I rose to the occasion, I refused to forfeit. Opportunity was knocking, and I sure as hell would answer. Without hesitation, I pointed to the redhead and confidently declared, “I WANT HER!”
While I have never had sex with a woman, I had one encounter of close, physical contact. It was a small taste, but wasn’t enough to satisfying the yearnings within me.
I was on vacation with my husband and some friends. While I don’t know how it started, it was a tradition to go to a strip club. It didn’t matter if you were married or single. There was never any apprehension on anyone’s part. Personally, I felt like a reborn virgin filled with anticipation for my first experience. This was something I always thought about doing, but the opportunity never presented itself. If my husband was surprised by my agreeing to go, he didn’t show it.
Upon arrival, I was immediately swept away by a sea of beautiful, scantily clad women. Some were mingling with patrons, while others performed onstage. They moved with confidence, unashamed and liberated. I anxiously tried to seek out a redhead among the mass of blondes and brunettes. I could feel my adrenaline pumping, my heart racing. I was about to admit defeat until I spotted her. She was the lone redhead overshadowed by her fellow ladies. To me, she was the one. The only one.
Through the night, she was my sole focus. I can’t explain. I was just drawn to her like a magnet. Unfortunately, I was forced to admire her from a far. Perhaps in an act of cruel torture, she never ventured close to where I was sitting. It crossed my mind a hundred times to excuse myself from my party to get a better look at her. Yet, I worried it would raise suspicion with my husband. Plus, I didn’t want the redhead to think I was being a creepy stalker or something….TO BE CONTINUED
There is a poem I wrote in my childhood. Originally, I thought it was the result of emotional and mental anguish from relentless torment at the hands of school bullies. Now, I am not so sure. Perhaps somehow it ties into my struggle to define my identity, and hiding my desires from those around me. You be the judge!
Who Am I?
I get lost in my disguise
Humanity stares with questioning eyes
Will I reveal my true identity?
Drop the mask, so they can see
To take such risk could elicit danger
Is it best to remain a distant stranger?
I’m unsure of which path to travel
Not desiring my life to unravel
There’s a sexy endeavor that has been floating around in my mind for some time. Yeah, it could be considered dangerous. Yet…I have toed on daring lines before.
I won’t keep you in suspense. I want to place an advertisement online for a lesbian encounter. The title would read: Writer Seeking Muse. Specifically, I want a redhead who will spark my creativity, as well as cater to my sexual desires.
I’ll admit that I scoured a certain site to see if anyone peaked my interest. I was surprised at some of the tasteless, outlandish, even creepy posts. I’m not into fetishes or bondage. I’m not old- only 42- but I’m not interested in being with someone in her 20’s.
So, what exactly is my agenda? It’s more than the opportunity to engage in physical contact with a woman. I want to feel an emotional attraction to her; have her reciprocate it. I want to be friends and lovers, not merely a one- night stand.
I am well aware that I have a husband. I love him! Although I’ve kept him in the dark as to the extent of my feminine desires, he confessed to fantasizing about me being with another woman. He only wishes to be a silent observer during the encounter. I wasn’t shocked. After all, isn’t that every man’s typical fantasy.
This might sound crazy- and selfish- but I don’t want to fulfill my husband’s fantasy. Of course I WANT to be with a woman. The dilemma is I want to be with her at my leisure without anyone’s prying eyes. But I can’t help wonder if my husband is absent, would it constitute as cheating? What do you think?
There is a television show that I am becoming obsessed with. I won’t divulge the name, but the female lead is- what else- a redhead.
I was drawn to her for other reasons besides her hair color. He character is smart, sexy and seductive, while also vulnerable. She doesn’t portray a lesbian. The chemistry with her male counterpart is electrifying. And the sex scenes! Well, they are just mesmerizing. They go right to the edge of what is permissible on regular television. Yet, they don’t leave anything to the imagination. They are erotically charged, mingled with raw passion. I can clearly see their desire, the hunger to achieve some sense of fulfillment.
The successful execution of the sex scene could be attributed to great directing. Yet, there is a sense of reality, of living in the moment. As an observer, I taste every kiss. I tremble among every touch. Then there is that climatic moment. The red- haired beauty tosses her head back, while the camera zooms in on her expression of pure ecstasy. The image is priceless.
Is it weird that I am somewhat jealous? Oh, how I wish I could be in the room as these scenes play out. I wonder how the show’s crew maintain their professionalism. Do they get turned on? How do they tamper their own arousal? Would I be able to? I’d probably have to excuse myself, and go masturbate somewhere. It would be totally worth it!
I’m not ashamed or embarrassed to admit that I watch porn. Lots of people do it. Probably more than are willing to admit. I even confessed to my husband that I watch it. Yet, I’m sure he assumes I watch straight couples. That doesn’t excite me. I strictly watch lesbian porn. And of course, I prefer at least one of the women be a redhead. Let me make one thing perfectly clear: I DO NOT VIEW UNDERAGE PORNOGRAPHY!
There’s something just so erotically beautiful about two woman engaging in sensual and sexual pleasure. I prefer a natural experience void of “toys”. Sensual kisses as they disrobe. Hands gliding over soft flesh, as bodies grow heated with arousal. The intensity of their mutual orgasms.
My body can’t help but respond as I watch. I feel the wetness pool between my thighs. I squirm. My back arches as the sensation runs through me. I refrain from touching myself. I let my mind acknowledge what is happening, and let my body silently react. When I finally reach my peak, it’s intense. I would moan or cry out loud, but I don’t want to give the tenants above me a thrill.
Sometimes I role play that I’m the other woman in the video who is receiving the redhead’s attention. She is kissing me. Hot, open-mouth kisses travel down my body. She takes the weight of my breasts in her hands, as her mouth converges on my nipples. She tugs and laps upon the sensitive flesh. They stiffen under her assault. In this instance, I touch myself. I rub my clit, but it’s the redhead I imagine touching me. Faster and faster, she is bringing me closer to orgasm. I wet my fingers, pretending it’s her saliva that coats them. Brazenly, I find my G-spot and hit it with a feverish pace. It isn’t long before my orgasm erupts. I’m left heavily panting, and twisted among wet sheets. As I come down from my erotic euphoria, the redhead is smiling down at me with smug satisfaction.
Want a dirty, little tidbit? What drives me the wildest when watching lesbian porn is when they go down on one another.
The mouth is a powerful weapon when you know how to use it!
(continued from Entry Three)
The nameless stranger is now a redhead. Instead of sitting apart, I ask if I may share her table. She looks upon me with mild curiosity then simply nods in approval. We don’t exchange any words; each absorbed in our own activity. But I catch the subtle assessing of her green eyes. Her tongue darts out, moistening her bottom lip. I feign ignorance, but my body naturally reacts. I feel myself growing wet between my thighs.
“Um- I’ll be right back”, I announce. I needed to put some distance between us to regroup. Was it my imagination, or was she now looking at me with arousal? I almost run from the table.
This scenario is new to me. Usually, I play the silent admirer. No one actually shows any interest in return. Yet, this girl is definitely interested. Should I make a move? I envision those eyes. How they’d look at me if I touched her. Instantly, I grow hot. I have to go for it.
Getting myself in check, I return to her. Unfortunately, a harsh reality greets me. She is gone. Feeling foolish and mildly pissed, all I want is to get the hell out of there. Hastily I grab my journal, a pink slip of paper lie beneath it. As I read its contents, I audibly gasp. I read it again to be sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me. There is no mistaking the blunt challenge.
My name is Becca. Come walk on the wild side with me!
I can’t help the saucy grin that breaks across my face
Going to the bookstore is one of my favorite things to do. But lately…Well let’s just say it has taken on a new meaning. Whether I’m alone- and yes- also in the company of my husband, I’ve been checking out more than books. It’s women! As they pass me by, I’m unable to suppress the urge to scope out the redheads. It has become a ritualistic indulgence.
On a recent trip by myself, I was feeling a little bummed over a life situation. I had taken a journal with me in hopes of pouring my woes into my writing. While fragmented ideas swirled in my head, I wasn’t inspired to put them on paper. Then, like a lightning strike, a young girl- probably of college age- sat down at the table directly in front of me. Although she wasn’t my preferred redhead- blonde instead- she was petty.
Immediately, I was intrigued, even smitten. As time elapsed, I found myself completely swept away. She exuded a certain aura. If she noticed- or was unnerved by my not-so-subtle, stalker-like leering, she never let on. Soon she abruptly rose from her seat and headed towards me. My body actually jolted with fear. Oh shit, I’m busted!
I was afraid to meet her eyes, but I didn’t want to look like a coward. Channeling a shred of bravado- my breath suspended- I met her hypnotic green eyes. Luckily, she only wanted me to watch her table while she went to the ladies room. Phew! I wasn’t being chewed out for my prying eyes.
Almost immediately among her absence, a spark of creativity was infused. Once again I am submerged, as a naughty scenario plays out in my mind.
To be continued…
There’s an old adage that says blondes have more fun. Personally, I can’t attest to that being a fact. I was born a brunette. Only recently, did I color my hair red.
Why does society seem to put such emphasis on hair? Why do we favor one shade over another? Yet, if I voice the question aloud, one could counter back and ask why I am partial to redheads. In reality, I can’t respond. Simply being that I don’t know why.
I do have a definite opinion on the subject. I feel that redheads are a rare, extraordinary breed. Why they only account for a small percentage of the population is a mystery to me. Furthermore, I think that any luxury that’s of scarce supply should be appreciated while in existence. Redheads are no exception.
In closing, while I readily admit to encountering many beautiful women, I will always favor redheads.
Since childhood, I have possessed a fascination with nudity. More specifically, the female body. I vividly recall searching through the TV Guide looking for movies that featured nudity. It was a secret ritual, that bordered on obsession.
In my youthful innocence, it seemed “normal” to engage in this type of behavior. I told myself that curiosity of the human body was part of the natural progression in coming of age. Harboring an appreciation, exploring femininity, I didn’t question if I was crossing any dangerous lines, or venturing into strange territory. It felt as though I was partaking in a harmless journey, somehow meant to travel.
To be quite honest, I was envious of other females. In my eyes, they possessed a beauty that was unlike to my own. Born with some medical issues, I was always self- conscious of my appearance. I never felt beautiful. Many in society agreed, thrusting upon me harsh labels that took years to come to overcome. Oh, and how I detested mirrors. Their uncanny ability to highlight every flaw, flashing like a warning signal. What the hell? How does an object hold so much power?
Can I answer, with certainty, where my appreciation of women stems from? No! A psychologist would probably surmise that it relates to a deep- seeded desire to look like them. To be what I deem the definition of “perfect”. I’m not sure that I would agree with that analysis. Perhaps as I continue this project, the answer will be found.