(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’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?
Do you harbor any lifelong secrets? I do. That is part of the reason I decided to undertake this book. If I am being honest, I have lived a double-life, of sorts. Understand, it was not intentional. I did not set out to purposely deceive anyone for perverse pleasure, or possess a selfish, ulterior motive.
Since childhood, my “other self” resided primarily in my head through impulsive thoughts and a vivid imagination. Although, over the past few years, I couldn’t deny its presence in my soul. Unfamiliar desire, suspicion, confusion and doubt all wrestled within me. A battle waged within me that I chose to fight in private. My only opposition was a nagging question that took center stage: Am I a lesbian?
This was territory I never thought I would explore. After all, I was raised in “traditional” Catholic household. To have intimate tendencies toward women seemed taboo. Yet, I must say that certain members of my family have had the courage to “come out”, and now live as gay members of the community. So, it left me to wonder what keeps me from revealing my secret. Fear? Shame? Maybe it’s because I am unsure what to label myself. Who am I?