Your erotic stories

Last year, I attended my cousin Stephanie’s wedding and the entire family turned out to celebrate the occasion. A solo attendee, I wanted to bring Lenka; in fact she was more than eager to go with me…

I thought my father’s relatives were stuffy and dry, especially the older matrons. I was comfortable with my sexuality but would they be accepting?

Usually I didn’t give a damn what anyone thought but for some unexplained reason I felt timid and shy around them. With all their money and “pinkies-up” attitude, I doubted they’d have an ounce of understanding.

Since my inclusion in the “family”, I heard the whispers about me at social functions.

“She’s so intelligent and pretty…why can’t she find a man, settle down and get married.”

My Aunt Gertrude was the most vociferous of the lot,

“Jordan dear, with you’re charm and good looks, you must be beating them off with a stick…”

“No auntie, no one special in my life,” I’d reply resignedly.

“Maybe you’re not looking in the right places,” she’d say with authority.

I was looking in the “right places”, only not the establishments frequented by men.

Since I last talked to my Aunt, I’d found that special someone but refused to bring Lenka, too afraid of the implications and the talk that would ensue. Such behavior was truly uncharacteristic of me but I felt very protective toward my lover.

After the festivities, my cousin Paul drove me to the train station. While we waited in the car for the express to New York City, my heart was heavy.

“I should have told them years ago…” I mumbled solemnly.

Of course, my immediate family, my mother and my aunt who helped raise me knew, as well as Paul and a few other close cousins. But, it wasn’t common knowledge. Oh, I’m sure many had their suspicions.

“…still can’t face up to them,” Paul said referring to the old dowager guard at the family affairs.

“No, I can’t…shit Paul, I really wanted to bring Lenka…”

“You shouldn’t give a flying fuck what those old crows think…” he said with some bitterness. Paul met Lenka at a party I gave in her honor. When her visa expired, it was Paul who volunteered to marry her for the sole purpose that she could remain in the USA with me. I owed him; I owed him big time for his gallant gesture.

Paul, more than anyone else, knew how very much in love I was with Lenka, and she with me.

The train rumbled into the station it was time to say goodbye. I felt some tears moisten my eyes and I looked at Paul with I’m sure a forlorn expression.

“Hey, don’t get upset…there’s always the next family gathering…you gonna be ok?” he asked with compassion.

I nodded my head and embraced Paul affectionately.

“Thanks Paul. Have I told you lately that I think you’re the best cousin a girl could have?” I uttered with sincerity.

“NO!” he stated loudly, then in a much gentler tone,

“You don’t have to say anything; love you, Jordan.”

“Love you too,” I blubbered on his shoulder and kissed his cheek.

The journey was uneventful and I lightly dozed with thoughts of Lenka just below the surface of my mind. It was past midnight when I exited the subway and hurriedly walked to my small apartment in the Village.

I entered as quiet as a church mouse and saw Lenka dozing on the sofa. Watching her sleep was a delight for me. The way her wavy blonde hair fell on the pillow, the contented, peaceful look on her face. The sight stirred my emotions and filled me with love for her.

I lightly kissed her and she turned towards me. A sound sleeper, Lenka rarely stirred but she slowly opened her eyes and smiled.

“Have a good time?” she asked with her lovely accent.

“Yes…but I missed you…”

“Well, you’re here with me now…” Lenka held out her arms and I fell into a loving embrace with her.

Before I met Lenka, I honestly never entertained the idea that I would find the “one”, the person I wanted to be with for the rest of my days. Yet, against all odds…

Later that night without disturbing Lenka, I got out of bed. In the tiny adjoining bedroom that I used as my office, I started typing on the computer.

For a long time, I wanted to put my thoughts in some logical order about my life. The light tapping on the keyboard echoed in the room as I gazed at the ceiling for inspiration. I thought about my childhood and the hardships that my mother endured trying to give me a normal upbringing. I adored her, still do and she is my best friend.

In The Beginning:

I was born on an Army post in North Dakota. Poor mom never made it to the base hospital and I entered the world on the living room floor; a healthy seven pound, three ounce baby girl. A big fan of daytime soaps, my mother named me after one of her favorite characters.

Dad was an NCO with a penchant for alcohol. After one year of horrific fights and physical abuse my mother left him for good. I saw him once in the twenty plus years since my mother divorced him. In all that time he made no effort to contact me or expressed a desire to be part of my life, even a very tiny part.

Dying from advanced liver disease, my dad had the pallid, ghostly appearance of an old man. I had no emotional connection to the person in the hospital bed and was unmoved by his passing.

When I was barely a year old, we moved to my aunts house in Chicago. Auntie gave me the love and caring of a parent. I guess you could say I had two mom’s.

My childhood, at least to me, seemed normal. I was a tomboy but liked girlie things; dolls, dresses, etc. I participated in sports, soccer and track in particular.

My aunt attended most of my athletic events because my mom managed a restaurant and worked six days a week to bring home the bacon. From my youngest years I never resented her not being there and instinctively knew that it was necessary.

Money always seemed to be tight and presents for Christmas and birthdays were simple and few. Usually to fulfill a school need or clothes so that I didn’t look like a farmer.

Auntie was the supplier of toys and I discovered there was no Santa at the very young age of seven when I spied her hiding gifts in the attic; the same gifts that I opened on Christmas Day

My teen years were confusing to me and I became very moody. Always thin and wiry for a girl, I gradually developed an athletic feminine body with B/C cup breasts.

I used writing as an outlet to express my feelings and my early work is sickly dark, gloomy and cynical.

Although I wasn’t sexually interested in boys, they appealed to me as friends. I had several that I was very close to; as close as my best girlfriends.

My true feelings about my sexuality didn’t emerge until an eighteen year old foreign exchange student from Germany came to live with us during my senior year of high school. Sigrid was a sleek and very sexy blonde.

In a short period of time, I became infatuated with her. and surprised myself by wondering what it would be like to have sex with her. I imagined kissing her and how her naked skin would feel against mine.

Since we shared the same bedroom it was virtually impossible to engage in any form of self-pleasure. When I was in dire need, I would go into the adjoining bathroom, turn on the faucet so that the sound of running water would drown out my moans and finger myself to orgasm. In hindsight, I wasn’t fooling anybody, especially Sigrid.

European’s have a much healthier attitude about sex and it was only a week or two past my eighteenth birthday that I found out. After one of my illicit, late night solo affairs, I was returning to my bed trying to be as quiet as possible when Sigrid’s voice startled me.

“I am a little cold. Would it be ok if I slept with you?” she asked in excellent English.

Chicago winters are brutal, and since my bedroom was on the third floor, precious little heat rose for any kind of comfort. For warmth during my childhood, I often slept snuggled against my mother in her bed.

Although I was extremely nervous, I heard myself reply with a shaky “yes”. Sigrid was wearing flannel pajamas but my bed was a single and we would undoubtedly have to cuddle to generate heat.

With her body close to mine, Sigrid put her arms around me and held me close. Her smell was intoxicating and had the hairs on the back of my neck standing straight-up.

“Umm…this is better…I feel warm now…”

Christ, I was so hot for her, I wanted to diddle myself. Nothing happened that night but it was sheer torture being that near to Sigrid.

Over the next several days, Sigrid really seemed to open up to me. She talked about her family back home and how she especially missed her friend Marthe.

“We are VERY GOOD friends, she stated with some underlying intent, and it was the emphasis on very good that alerted me.

“You have special friend?” she asked with a great deal of curiosity.

I did but not in the way she was intimating.

“No,” I said very shyly, and felt my face grow hot.

“You want be my special friend?” she asked in a sexy voice.

“Yeah, that would be nice,” I heard myself say, and looked deep into her blue eyes filled with desire.

Jesus, I sounded like an idiot but Sigrid was obviously experienced with girls.

That night I lingered in the bathroom for a long time before I got in bed next to Sigrid. My nerves were on edge but my desires were in high gear. When she pulled me toward her for an embrace I discovered she was naked. Jolts of electricity thundered to my pussy. I wanted her, in fact I never wanted anything more at that moment in my life.

Sigrid gazed at me with a heartfelt expression and pulled my lips to hers. The sensation was out of this world and I kissed her with ardor. She raised her upper body, keeping the blankets tented and in the sparse light, I saw her nipples harden.

My hands gently squeezed the mounds, half the size of mine but exceedingly firm and the texture of Sigrid’s skin was like the lining of a velvety glove.

“You like?” she breathed so sexily.

“Oh yeah,” I uttered with passion.

Sigrid offered a taut nipple to my hungry mouth and dear Lord, did I ever suckle her luscious tits. The turgid protuberance inflamed my lust and my libido went into hyper drive. I whipped the end with my tongue tip all the while pulling tenderly on the succulent stub between my lips.

Above me, Sigrid was gasping,

“Oh…oh…auch…oh…auch…”

An intense yearning to lick her pussy overtook me and I turned my body so that I was facing south. Sigrid was mewling her want as I licked the skin on her hard belly until the silky hair of her mound grazed my cheek. I reached out and pulled her firm thighs closer and they opened for me as if on cue.

Like a blind man on a date, I used my lips and tongue to explore the musky wetness of Sigrid’s engorged slit. The tart flavor was similar to mine. I loved how the rich creamy fluid seeped into my mouth and down my gullet.

The Teutonic vixen was undulating her hips, keeping a steady motion against my slathering tongue. With my hands under her ass cheeks, I brought the sopping flesh closer and painted her crease with up and down swipes that ended with gentle licks over her clit.

Sigrid was moaning so loud I feared that my mother would hear us in the bedroom directly below. But, slowing down or stopping wasn’t an option because my body was on fire with lust.

My tongue went into high gear, relentlessly rasping the tender, swollen bud at the top of her slit. Sigrid’s motions intensified and I tightened my grip on her flexing butt. Her zesty juices bubbled and frothed from her hole and I gorged on the delicious nectar.

As I ravenously lathed her sopping slice, Sigrid groaned words in German that I didn’t understand. My hunger for her pussy intensified and I shamelessly sucked/licked her inflamed clit until I sensed her body stiffen and quake. She’s cumming, my mind informed me and I felt her hand on the back of my head as she mashed my face into her drenched sex.

When I raised my head, I smiled at her. Sigrid’s fluids were dripping off my chin and I used the back of my hand to wipe away the drops. A dreamy, almost faraway look graced her pretty visage as an aura of accomplishment pervaded my being.

Sigrid gazed affectionately at me and took me in her arms. We exchanged tender kisses and I experienced the powerful feeling of closeness with another human being. When I told her it was my first time a look of astonishment washed over her countenance

“I do not believe this is first time for you,” she stated with surprise.

Shyly, I nodded my head yes. I had taken to girl on girl love like a fish to water.

Sigrid took me to the dizzying heights of sexual rapture. She trailed soft wet kisses over my body, suckled my needy breasts and devoured my pulsating gash until I nearly feinted from the incredible orgasm that surged through my body.

Sigrid instructed me in the ways of Sapphic loving and I was a star pupil. The amorphous yearning that inhabited my being was finally out in the open. Girls were my thing, my ticket to a happy sex life and if I was lucky, maybe I’d find someone to love.

Not long after Sigrid and I embarked on our exploits, my mother cornered me in the kitchen one afternoon. Sigrid was on the girls volleyball team and at an away meet. Perfect timing, I thought cynically to myself afterwards.

“Jordan, would you like to tell me what’s going on upstairs at night…I hear the strangest noises coming from your bedroom…”

In typical mommy fashion, she went straight for the jugular.

“Ah…er…nothing mom…”

“Nothing? Sometimes I swear I’m hearing the soundtrack from a porn movie,” she stated emphatically.

Prior to Sigrid’s visit, my parent and I talked about my confused sexual feelings. As understanding as a mother could be, she insisted that over time I would identify them.

“Ok mom. It’s like this, Sigrid and me…” I started, but stopped.

Why I suddenly felt shame for my actions had me in a quandary.

“Nice and slow, start at the beginning…”

For the remainder of the afternoon, I forthrightly explained my relationship with Sigrid. In other words, I came clean and fessed up. My mother always told me honesty is the best policy and I wasn’t about to disappoint her. Anyway, I’m sure she had a very good notion as to the truth.

My mom proceeded to tell me that falling for someone, especially someone leaving in six months with little chance that I would ever see them again, was a good way to get my heart broken. It was sound advice and I heeded the warning.

My attraction to Sigrid was more on the level of a deep friendship that involved sex but it never grew into love with all the trappings. And, I was sure she felt the same about me.

My sexual awakening was followed by a physical awakening. I admired Sigrid’s very fit, muscular form and asked her how I could obtain the same look. In the school gym after hours, she guided me through a workout that left me drenched in sweat but invigorated.

My involvement in Tae Kwon Do and Sigrid’s training program with heavy weights shaped my body until I was a sinewy 115 lbs. When I flexed in the mirror, I gasped. My body fat had dropped considerably and my muscles had real “pop” to them.

“Jesus, Sig…look at my biceps!” I crowed.

In fact, they looked bigger than hers but the beaming expression of pride on Sigrid’s face was the best compliment she could give me. I still follow her plan to this day. I’ve made some adjustments along the way but my hard body in a bikini has helped me bed some very hot women.

All too soon it was time for Sigrid to say goodbye and we spent her last night in each others arms. Our lovemaking was filled with passion and lasted until I saw the light pink glow of the early morning light invade my bedroom.

“I vill miss you, Jordan…you haf been very special friend to me,”

Damn, my eyes welled up and I couldn’t stop the flow of tears. Sigrid was my best friend, my lover and I knew that she cared about me very much. The feeling was mutual.

When Sigrid returned to Germany, my mother’s words rang true in my head; I missed her terribly and my heart ached to see her, to be with her, smell her lovely scent and feel her nude body on mine.

The College Years:

During my college days, I truly enjoyed bedding hot straight girls. It was challenging and fulfilling, especially when they would respond like it was the best thing that ever happened to them.

My first roommate Roxanne was an endearing, kindly soul. Mildly overweight by the standards of the day, she had an innocent sexuality that appealed to me. At the time, I doubted she had any experience with boys or girls.

I was changing into my workout clothes one morning when I spied her discreetly checking me out. There was dead quiet in the room when the sudden sound of her voice startled me.

“Jordon…I hope you don’t mind me asking…how did you get into such good shape?…I mean…you have muscles but they look great on you…I’m sorry I’m not making much sense…It’s just…I’d like to look like you…”

I wasted no time in explaining to Roxanne how I maintained my physique and that it was entirely possible for her to achieve the same results. For real shape changing results, weight training, cardio and proper nutrition were essential to a total makeover.

After I recommended several bodybuilding websites for her to checkout, Roxanne embarked on a journey of discovery that few have the stamina and commitment to complete. By the end of term I noticed a change; she had trimmed down considerably and her figure looked fetching. When we returned for spring semester, we settled into the routine of college and I observed that Roxanne seemed more outgoing and confident. Always shy about changing in front me, Roxie announced she was headed to the shower. As she peeled the clothes away and got down to her bra and panties, I couldn’t help but stare.

Roxanne’s body was undergoing a metamorphosis and was much leaner, tighter. Shit, the girl made my pussy twitch just looking at her. It won’t be long until I see some good muscular development, I silently mused.

Since our schedules usually conflicted, we saw little of each other but always found some time on the weekends to be gal pals. I enjoyed her company as she was sweet, charming and just about the nicest person I ever met.

Roxanne dated a few guys but nothing serious developed and if it did, I was unaware. Although she kept to herself about matters of the heart, she opened up on a few occasions, especially if she had a couple of drinks in her.

“I can’t believe I’m still a virgin,” she stated wistfully one night after we returned from a frat party.

“Girl…yer lookin’ hot! Give it time, it’ll happen,” I blurted out without thinking.

Roxanne regarded me curiously.

“Are you a vir…ya know what I mean,” she asked sheepishly.

Except for a well used vibrator, I guess I was in the technical sense, although I didn’t feel like one.

“I am,” I stated with a dose of humility.

“Gosh, yer kidding…with yer pretty face and bod…I’m shocked.”

Now it was my turn to feel sheepish. I needed to change the subject, and quickly.

“Hey, do ya think Kip’s interested,” I stated referring to one of the frat brothers she had a crush on.

“I was gonna tell ya sooner but he asked me out tonight…I guess that’s why I’m concerned about my lack of…you know…”

“Wow!” I was happy beyond words for her.

Kip was an attractive guy with a great personality and sense of humor. Roxanne saw him at a Sigma Chi mixer during fall semester but was too self-conscious about her physical appearance to start-up a conversation. Now that she was approaching hottie status, he noticed her first and they’d gotten very chummy in a short period of time.

“Jordan…I ah…know how to kiss a guy and all that…but what if he wants to do more,” she stated nervously.

I sat next to Roxanne, took her hands in mine and looked into her lovely blue eyes.

“Hey, don’t worry…when the time comes…and it feels right…you’ll know what to do…follow your heart…”

I felt like a fool. Me, a lesbian trying to give dating advice to a straight girl. However, I was positive that Roxanne didn’t have an inkling about my sexual preference. Or so I thought; oh how naïve I was.

Roxanne and Kip dated for the rest of spring term and it looked like romance was in the air. She continued her workout program with religious zeal and her transformation was nothing less than amazing.

During finals week she dropped a bombshell on me that saddened me to my core. Roxanne was transferring to a school closer to home because of Kip. He was attending Drexel University in Philadelphia and she wanted to be near him. How could I blame her? She was falling in love.

When Roxanne told me, I blubbered on her shoulder like kid.

“I’m gonna miss you…”

“Oh Jordan…” she cried softly and held me tenderly.

“Promise we’ll stay in touch…we’ll always be friends,” I stated with utter sincerity.

“You know it! You’ve done so much for me…I owe you girlfriend…thank you…”

We held each other for a few minutes until Jordan pulled back with an excited look on her face.

“Can ya visit me sometime over the summer? My folks have a house up in the mountains with a pool and…maybe the week of July 4th?” She asked hopefully.

Hell, if I had to walk all the way to Pennsylvania, I would because I valued her friendship so highly.

That year I was working as a waitress in the restaurant my mother managed. I begged her to let me go but my mom could be unyielding about practical matters like earning enough money to stay in college.

In the end, my mother relented. Roxanne picked me up at the airport and we started the long journey to the Pocono Mountains. As she drove, we chatted with the air of familiarity. Her relationship with Kip had blossomed and she was excited about their prospects for a future together.

“I finally lost it…” she said shyly.

“Yer…innocence?” I asked.

“Uh huh…and it was like you said, I knew with all my heart I wanted to make love to him and it just…happened,” she gushed.

Roxanne was positively beaming and I was overjoyed for my friend.

“Is Kip coming up for the holiday?” I asked, hoping to meet the guy who stole Roxanne’s heart.

“Not till next Saturday…he’s working at his dad’s company and can’t get off till then and…my parents are in Florida visiting my sick aunt…so we’ll have the house to ourselves,” she said with a crafty grin.

When we pulled into a secluded road that ran along an imposing lake, I marveled at the size of the houses that lined the banks.

Roxanne guided the car down a narrow lane and a large, two story cottage loomed before us. The home was situated on a private cove in a very secluded part of the resort.

After a light lunch, Roxanne guided me to the guest room where I hastily changed for some sunbathing time. I was the first one on the deck and waited patiently for her to appear.

When Roxanne walked out, my jaw dropped. Her transformation to muscular hottie was complete. I simply gawked at her. In her string bikini, she looked like she stepped off the pages of a bodybuilding magazine with a well defined physique that was astonishingly feminine at the same time.

“Wow Roxanne…you look…amazing!” I gushed.

Kip is one lucky son of a bitch, I mused quietly.

“Thanks,” she stated humbly, and blushed.

The sight of Roxanne’s hard body ignited my libido. But, I had to walk on eggshells with her. After all she was Kip’s girl and…hetero.

I spent the afternoon in a semi-excited state and fought a fierce internal battle with myself. It was nearing dinner time when I excused myself to take a refreshing dip in the pool. I heard a splash behind me and turned to see Roxanne swimming towards me.

Because I’d been waiting tables for long hours at the restaurant, my workouts had suffered and while I was toned and tight, I paled in comparison to Roxanne. Goddamn, I was jealous and resolved to commit myself to fitness when I returned to Chicago.

In a role reversal, I was the one who felt shy and intimidated around Roxanne. We’d been imbibing most of the afternoon and I was pleasantly buzzed when she swam up right in front of me. The water clinging to her skin gave her muscles a sexy glow in the sunlight

Roxanne put her arms around my neck and gazed at me adoringly.

“Best friends?” she asked so sweetly that my heart melted.

“Yeah…best friends” I answered, and my eyes welled up.

At that moment in time, Roxanne was my dearest and closest gal pal. Her embrace was tender, wanting and it was me who feared what was coming next. The last thing I wanted was to spoil our friendship.

Roxanne pulled back and untied the stings on her top, then went under and removed her bottoms. She was delightfully naked in the water.

“Turn around,” she commanded.

Roxanne popped the snap on my top and I skinned the bottoms down my legs. Without exchanging another word we swam side by side in the pool. The mercurial smile on her face was hard to fathom but I instinctively knew that she was bi-curious. A feeling of elation spread through my being and I was proud that she had chosen me.

“I gonna catch some rays,” I stated, interrupting the silence.

I found the nearest lounger and watched Roxanne swim to the side of the pool. When she hauled her dripping body out of the water, I gasped and ogled her exquisite form. As a burning desire for the hottie started to grow, she struck a muscle pose.

Roxanne’s physique was a sculpted wonder of lean sinew and curves. Her shapely ass in particular caught my attention.

“How did you get your butt to look so…” I couldn’t find the right words.

“Countless squats and dead lifts…she said with a serious expression.

Roxanne’s breasts were round swells with long pink nipples on her chest. Christ, I was salivating just staring at them. She’s got to know I’m hot for her, my brain screamed.

Roxanne sat on the lounger next to me and started talking about her commitment to physical fitness. Then, the bombshell went off,

“Jordan, do you think I’m…like attractive…what I mean to say is…oh, I can’t explain…shit”

It was one of the rare times I heard her utter an expletive.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is…let me start over…when I looked at the photos of the women on the body building websites…I…ah…found myself getting turned on…but it really inspired me…I wanted to look like them in the worst way…”

Roxanne lowered her head and I heard her sniffling. Immediately, I sat up and put my arm around her shoulders.

“Hey, it’s perfectly natural…don’t be upset,” I stated soothingly.

“I’m sorry…I feel like I asked you come here under false pretenses…I was hoping that you…”

I took Roxanne in my arms and held her, stroking her naked back in an attempt to comfort her. Little did I know it was having a different effect.

“That feels nice,” she purred.

My hands ran the length of her back, from her shoulders to the top of her butt.

“I’ve been really curious…what it would be like with another girl…what it would feel like…it’s just that…Jordan…”

“Shh…it’s ok…you don’t have to explain…”

I tilted her pretty face up to mine and kissed her squarely on the lips. Roxanne threw her arms around my neck and drove her tongue into my mouth. It was apparent to me that she wanted this to happen and was waiting for the right time and place.

Roxanne moaned as I planted light sucking kisses over the supple skin of her neck and my hands skillfully manipulated the tight pink buds on her chest.

“I want you Jordan,” she groaned.

“You’ve got me girl!” I cried.

Roxanne threw herself into Sapphic loving with startling intensity. The blonde muscular hottie sucked my titties like she’d been doing it for years and lit a forest fire in my loins.

I was gasping, light headed when Roxanne finally stopped, picked me up in a startling display of strength, carried me to her oversized lounger and lay on top of me.

Jesus, the girl loves tits, my mind exulted as she renewed her assault on my heaving breasts. Her nipping teeth nearly drove me insane. Abruptly, she stopped and gazed at me with an expression of pure lust.

I’d seduced straight girls who gave their all when it came to lesbian lovin’ but Roxanne surprised me. Her talented mouth and lips bussed the flesh on my belly until she reached my mound. I kept a closely clipped triangle of pubes above my slit with the rest of my pubic area clean shaven.

“Hmm…umm…” she growled, and buried her face betwixt my thighs.

What she lacked in technique, Roxanne more than made up for in determination. She knew just where to lick and lashed my clit with intense feathery light whips. In no time at all I was howling,

Oh God! Oh God! Oh…oh…oh…”

Up on my elbows, I watched in total awe as my best friend gorged on my gurgling pussy. A pair of hands grasped my buns tightly as her relentless tongue lambasted my swampy crease.

Approaching the brink, I threw my legs over her muscled shoulders and pushed my throbbing gash against Roxanne’s gobbling lips until a searing hot wave washed over me.

“Oh fuck…” I yelled, lost in the throes of a nifty orgasm.

In the aftermath Roxanne looked sheepish until I extolled her prowess.

“Damn girl! That was intense!” I crowed.

Roxanne’s embarrassed expression dissolved to one of pride and I jumped her hot bod like a lioness on a zebra.

My eager lips suckled her boobs and I fingered her sopping slit until Roxanne was delirious.

“Oh…oh…eat me…please eat me…oh Jordan…”

I feasted on my friend with a boundless hunger. Tasting her tangy juices and savoring every drop that invaded my thirsty maw.

Watching my dear friend explode in orgasm was a dream come true and I promptly buried my tongue in her butt hole and energetically tossed her salad.

“Wow…oh my God…oh my God…” she trumpeted to the evening sky.

After I completed my assault on her hard body, Roxanne lay limp and drenched in sweat on the lounger. She turned her head and gaped at me with an expression of complete satisfaction.

“That was…incredible…oh God…I can’t move…”

The setting sun and the chill air heralded our exit to the upstairs shower. As we were toweling off, Roxanne gazed at me with the fondest look on her pretty face.

“Jordan…I…ah…thanks…” and she blushed.

The week in the Pocono Mountains with Roxanne is on the top five weeks list in my life. I introduced her to my vibrator and Lordy but the girl was a hootin’ and a hollerin’.

Several nights we went clubbing and the sight of Roxanne in a spaghetti strap “T” and short form fitting skirt was awe inspiring. The girl was a vision of strength and femininity.

Roxanne fully explored her bi-curious side. Her fascination with my vibrator turned into several pussy pounding sessions. I took great delight in reaming her tight hole with the long cylindrical missile. My only regret? A strap-on would have been the ideal instrument for girl fucking.

By the time Saturday rolled around, I was sexually satisfied and a little sore but it was Roxanne who seemed unhappy that our brief affair had to end.

Kip’s was scheduled to meet up with Roxanne in Philly around the same time I was leaving for Chicago. We were having breakfast and the introspective expression on her face belied some internal conflict.

“Hey, is something’ bugging you” I enquired.

“I ah…Jordan…this week has been…very enlightening…I’m sad to see you go…”

When Roxanne looked up her eyes were wet.

“Hey…you’re not sorry about…ya know…what we did and…” Roxanne interrupted me.

“Oh no! I think what I’m trying to say is…”

Roxanne cleared her throat and plowed ahead,

“You helped me discover something that I’ve dreamed about since I started weight training. The feelings kept getting stronger and…I’ve had a crush on you since we first met in freshman year.”

Roxanne looked positively sheepish and I took her in my arms.

“I’m gonna miss you Jordan…I’m gonna miss you a whole heck of a lot,” she whimpered in my ear.

We kissed with a great deal of fervor and the soulful look in Roxanne’s eyes had my loins a buzzin’.

“Can we make love…one more time, before ya have to go?” she asked pleadingly.

I practically raped the muscle hottie right there on the kitchen table, our feral cries of passion filling the air above us. We were unusually quiet in the car as Roxanne drove to the airport but her affectionate smiles warmed my heart and soul. There wasn’t much to say. Her life would revolve around Kip in Philadelphia.

When we reached the departure area, a tearful goodbye was unavoidable. We held each other and cried softly. I knew then that if Roxanne had returned to college as my roommate, my life might have taken a different path.

We stayed in touch over the years via telephone and eventually emails. Roxanne married Kip and had a couple of kids. Last Christmas, I received a photo greeting card of the entire family and saw that she had changed little over the years.

I often wondered if Roxanne continued the exploration of her bi-side. Was I her first and last? Our telephone conversations and emails never strayed into the intimate areas of her life.

Regrets? No…it wasn’t meant to be. Just one episode in a series of “might have beens” that occur in ones life.

Sophomore year flew by. My sex life was sporadic but gratifying and while love eluded me, it conked me right on the noggin at the start of term in junior year.

The very first time I saw her, she caught my fancy and I soon discovered I wanted a full on relationship with her. Hanna, just the mere mention of her name still makes my heart flutter with emotion.

I met Hanna at a Frat mixer and to my astonishment, none of the brothers’ paid any attention to her so I struck up a conversation. A statuesque brunette with a slender, athletic body, she radiated sexuality on a scale that was off the charts.

Incidentally, the Frat mixers were a great way for me to meet hetero girls. The brothers always invited far too many women. The stragglers who kept to themselves or were ignored by the frat guys were easy pickins for me.

Hanna’s beauty and incredibly hot body must have been too intimidating for any guy (that night at least) to approach her.

“Hey, I’m Jordan,” I greeted the lanky lovely.

“Hanna,” was her one word answer, but the smile on her face conveyed a warmth that interested me from the beginning.

The noise level in the house was painful and I suggested we go outside.

“How does it feel to be ignored?” I asked casually.

Hanna sighed and a look of sadness crossed her face.

“I’m not surprised…ya see…I ah…broke up with my boyfriend or I should say he broke up with me last summer and well…I’ve been dying to meet a new guy…at least one who seems nice, ya know, not a creep…” Hanna was clearly crestfallen.

Hanna looked upset and unexpectedly, I put my arm around her shoulder and gave it a sympathetic squeeze.

“There’ll be other mixers…” I said until she cut me off.

“This is my third mixer in as many weeks and except for some idle chit-chat no one seems…ya know…interested in me…”

“If you don’t mind me asking…I mean I know we just met…but why did your boyfriend dump…I mean break it off?”

“It’s simple really…he met someone else,” she stated sadly.

Hanna was genuinely distressed and tears pooled in her pretty eyes.

“We tried to have a long distance relationship but with him at Stanford and me here in Illinois…I guess the temptation was too much for him…” she said in a halting voice filled with emotion.

“Hey, don’t cry…you’ll meet somebody…”

“Ya know how it is, ya feel like you’ll never meet anyone new…who likes ya for who you are and…” Her face was a mask of pain.

I put my arm around Hanna again and she genuinely liked my sympathetic gesture.

“I’m sorry…I feel like I’m taking advantage of you…I’m gonna head back to my dorm…thanks for listening Jordan…”

“Wait a sec…I wasn’t havin’ a very good time at the party…lets go to the Brass Rail Tavern and toss a few beers…on me…whadda ya say?”

“But, I’m not twenty-one…” Hanna said with trepidation.

“No problemo girl, I know the bartender,” I stated factually.

And, in truth I was very friendly with the female barkeep on I guess you can say an intimate level.

Hanna brightened and took my arm.

“What are we waiting for…time to forget past loves…”

I had a great time with Hanna that night. Witty, charming, intelligent, kindhearted…I could on and on concerning her attributes. The girl was a lesbian’s dream come true but I was positive she didn’t have a gay bone in her body.

My sensibilities told me that even the straightest of straight girls could be swayed to try anything once, especially during the bi-curious college years. However, I realized from the start that I could easily fall for Hanna.

We partied until the bar closed and walked back to her dorm room on unsteady legs. Her roommate was absent and when Hanna asked if I wanted to stay until I was more sober, my heart leapt with joy.

However, I didn’t even try a little bit to get into her pants because I was truly fascinated by Hanna. An Elementary Education major, I was enthralled by her artless and sincere personality. She was what the guys called a babe but the type of babe they would bring home to meet mom.

As we came down from our alcohol induced high, Hanna spoke frankly about her desire to someday get married and start a family.

“…I guess that’s on hold for awhile…” she stated humorously.

Hanna’s mood had improved greatly and we exchanged cell numbers and pledged to keep in touch.

“Damn Jordan, I feel like we’ve been friends for years…ya know how to party girl…thanks for being there for me tonight,” She stated forthrightly and gave me a friendly hug. My face grew hot and I realized I was blushing.

A deep friendship evolved in a short space of time and most weekends were spent in each others company. We hung out together, went to parties but gradually I noticed that we were spending time solely in each others presence.

My sex life was on hold during this period because I was hot for Hanna. I never revealed my sexual leanings to her but the subject came up one night after we left a boisterous frat party that saw Hanna turn down a guy who was all over her, asking for a date. Shit, he was very handsome and if he had asked me, I might have considered it. I often wondered what sex was like without a dildo and I would have let him have his way with me. However, the point was academic because he was after Hanna.

At parties and mixers, I was usually approached by guys but I made it clear I wasn’t interested in anything but friendship. Surprisingly, a few understood and I forged some lasing bonds with the opposite sex while I was in college.

Very loopy from the multiple beers we drank at the party, Hanna and I made a bee line for her room. We collapsed on her bed giggling like two kids.

“Jeez Hanna, why’d ya turn that guy down…what a hunk!” I gushed.

“I don’t see YOU accepting any dates,” she stated with authority.

Hanna’s face was alive with a look of reckoning. She was gazing at me as though for the first time she understood something about me without my telling her.

“I don’t want ya ta get angry with me but can I ask ya something personal?”

“Sure, fire away…” I stated confidently.

“Are you gay…ya know…lesbian?”

Oh fuck but did I ever blush. My face was so hot you could have fried an egg on it.

“Hmm…you don’t say…” she answered her own question.

If I didn’t know Hanna better, I would have sworn she was mocking me but that wasn’t Hanna. The girl was tolerant to a fault, about the most unjudgemental person I ever met. I felt extremely sheepish and my face must have betrayed my mood because she took me in her arms and held me tenderly.

Since I never talked about dating guys; past, present or future or wanting to go out with them, it must have been easy for someone of Hanna’s brain power to surmise the truth.

When Hanna pushed back a little, I couldn’t look her in the eyes.

“My oh my… a bashful, sexy girl. What am I to do with you?”

My gaze shifted upward until I was staring at Hanna. I truly met no one before her who was so in touch with their inner feelings. She’d obviously been having some desire for me, on what level I was unsure.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot…I always thought I was one hundred percent heterosexual but lately…” she said with a sigh.

I pulled Hanna close and put my head on her shoulder. There was something wonderfully comforting ensconced in her arms.

When I looked up at Hanna, it was there in her pretty brown eyes; the want, the need and her head moved toward mine for our first kiss. We made out for a long, long time that first night as tongues intertwined and danced a duel. When we stopped, we were both panting in breathy gasps.

My dream come true had soaked my panties but I wanted to take it slow and let Hanna make the next move. Suddenly, she appeared shy and unsure.

“I don’t know what…to do next…” she blushed in the most endearing way.

“Just hold me,” I mewled my need.

In Hanna’s arms I found a sense of peace, of closeness with her and I realized that nature would take over. Sure enough, she was pulling my top over my head. I sat up and she ran her hands over my upper body.

“Hmm…nice muscles,” she cooed.

My nipples were as hard as bullets at this point and when Hanna reached around back to unsnap my bra, I let out a moan of pleasure. In spite of all the exercising and dieting, I still had a decent “B” cup, a handful by most accounts. Hanna skillfully palmed my tits until I thought I would pass out from the pleasure.

When her lips attached to a swollen bump and lightly sucked, I gasped.

“Oh god…oh god…that feels fantastic…I blurted out.

Hanna’s hand squeezed my tit, pushing more nipple into her hungry mouth. Her tongue rasped the end with delicate feathery licks, lighting a blaze of sensations in my throbbing pussy.

Gently, I held my lovers head as she nursed with yearning at my heaving bosom. When Hanna finally stopped, she pulled back and gaped with pride at my distended nips, a product of her handi…er…mouthwork.

A growing need to have her tongue in my pussy had reached the critical phase and I fell back on the bed. Hanna pounced on me with a delighted look on her lovely face.

While she kissed me passionately, I felt her fingers in the waistband of my drawers, pulling then urgently down and off. A finger traced a line up my gooey slit and journeyed continuously, finding the slickness and eventually my clit.

As we kissed with intense ardor, I humped Hanna’s hand until I erupted in orgasm. It took me a few minutes to return to earth and I gazed at her adoringly.

“Oh girl…that was wonderful,” I crowed.

I took my lover in my arms and kissed her face, lavishing wet smooches over the silky skin.

“Now, it’s your turn.”

“…but I’m not finished sexy…” she cooed, and lowered her head to my swampy sex.

When Hanna’s tongue invaded my slit , I cried out from the sheer pleasure. Gently I held her head as she gorged on my quaking pussy; my hips moving steadily over her nibbling mouth. The intense pleasure that I was receiving was far beyond anything I had experienced to this point.

Why? Because I had fallen for Hanna? As the sensations intensified, I lost all track of my thoughts and wallowed in the extraordinary hedonistic joy of the moment. I felt a finger then two enter my pulsating hole.

Oh God! The girl is good…no…she’s incredible, my mind screamed in ecstasy. My clit was on fire and I was close to cumming when a surge shot through my body and pushed me over the edge.

I howled my orgasm like a banshee as colossal panting breaths escaped my mouth.

“Oh…oh…oh…oh god!” I moaned over and over.

Wave after wave plowed through me until they slowly dissolved to ripples. Awestruck by Hanna’s tour de force performance, I simply gaped at her with total admiration.

Hanna had a self-satisfied look on her lovely face.

“I thought you were 100% heterosexual? You did say as much, as I recall…” I questioned with a professorial smirk.

“Yeah…I am…except for my bi-curious phase…” she answered.

Bi-curious? The girl was a pussy eating dynamo! I jumped Hanna’s bones like a feral jungle cat with clothes flying in all directions. With her sleek body stretched out, I buried my face in her dark silky muff and supped on her until she yelled my name in orgasmic fury.

We spent the weekend in bed, indulging our sexual whims. I introduced Hanna to my two dildos, both left her gasping and craving more. My new lover had one healthy sex drive or I should say OVERDRIVE!

When we emerged on Monday, we were two young women in love. We did everything together; ate meals, partied, slept in the same bed, much to her roommates chagrin. It was obvious to our friends that we were in a relationship and while it bothered some, most were accepting of our newfound liaison.

Late one Saturday night while we were doing our laundry, Hanna sat on top of the washer, barefoot with a spaghetti strap “T”, no bra, and tiny workout shorts. She was studying for an exam and the sight of her taut, sleek body, brown hair, and flawless skin was turning me on. Unable to control myself, I relieved Hanna of the book in her hands and put my arms around her. My heart beat furiously with emotion and I kissed her soft lips with all the passion I could muster.

“Yer amazing Jordan,” she whispered yearningly.

Intense feelings of love resounded in my body but I was too frightened to express how I really felt. My hands wormed their way under her “T” and fondled her firm peach size breasts until the nipples crinkled and hardened. My lust consumed me as I raised her shirt and suckled the rigid cylinders

“Oh…oh…God…that feels so damn good…”

The reality that somebody might catch us seemed to add to the overall sensuality of the situation.

“Oh god…girl…eat me…eat my pussy…” she whispered huskily in my ear.

In one swift motion, I whipped Hanna’s shorts and panties off as she leaned back on the machine. Her luscious slit was yawing open, covered in dew as I descended for the banquet.

Thank God, no one walked into the laundry room or they would have gotten an eyeful and earful as I noisily slurped her abundant juices. Hanna came like a firecracker during the spin cycle and it was the type of episode that typified our sex life; spontaneous, intense and filled with passion.

During semester breaks, Hanna visited me in Chicago and over the summer stayed for a month. I wanted so badly to go and visit her but my waitress job kept me at home.

“Money for college comes first,” my mother would say in her practical voice. I usually grumbled in disagreement because it was useless trying to argue.

Our phone calls were frequent and while the cost annoyed my mom, she begrudgingly allowed me this one “extravagance”.

When we saw each other at the start of fall term, we were all over each other like two alley cats in heat.

“I missed you so much…” I uttered yearningly in her ear.

“I missed you too…” she groaned in return.

Hanna’s lips sought mine and we made out for a long time. I never seemed to tire kissing her and she me.

So dear Reader, you may ask, when did it all start to unravel?

It started subtly enough. As the semester wore on I noticed the difference in Hanna’s attitude towards me. Lord knows she was a very skilled lover but emotionally, she was more reserved and distant. A defense mechanism? Probably, because from the very beginning I found her to be a very loving person.

But, Hanna never professed any love for me. On the one occasion that I did utter the highest sentiment two human beings can share, she kept her silence and I guarded my tongue from then on.

Slowly, we drifted apart. We were spending less time together and she constantly made excuses, blaming her busy schedule. Our lovers trysts became sporadic and Hanna was going to the frat parties every weekend when I opted to stay away. Why she was pre-occupied with finding a guy when she had me, was very hurtful.

The day before Winter Break, I confronted Hanna and her words chilled me to the bone.

While I believed we had a solid relationship, Hanna told me she never truly committed herself to the idea. My supposition that she was more than bi-curious was false. To her, it was a college affair, a fling that she enjoyed to the hilt but it had to end. She wanted to get married and start a family someday. Why she couldn’t do that with me, I failed to grasp at the time.

I spent the holidays pining for her but she refused to return my calls and emails. The only communication I got was an email wishing me a Merry Christmas. Very formal, no message of endearment and it really tore me apart.

The realization that it was over and for good didn’t sink into my thick skull until spring break. Hanna avoided me like the plague around campus and through mutual friends I learned that she had met someone and was in love.

I steadfastly refused to be the stalker kind of lesbian and kept my distance. If Hanna really loved me, she would come back and while I clung desperately to that thread of hope, I knew deep in my heart that it was finished. I remembered my mother telling me nothing lasts forever and this was a case in point.

The day before graduation, I was packing and heard a soft knock on the door. When I turned and saw that it was Hanna my heart soared. I smiled at her but kept my distance. The last thing I wanted was some pathetic farewell scene.

“Hey, I ah…just stopped to say goodbye,” she said sheepishly.

“Thanks,” I replied, and continued folding clothes, preferring not to look at her.

“Look Jordan…I’m sorry if I hurt you but…I’m not ready for…”

I walked over to Hanna and put my finger against her lips, those supple lips I had kissed so passionately.

“You don’t have to try and explain…I understand and I don’t understand…” I had spoken the truth.

Tears enveloped my eyes, blurring my vision and Hanna embraced me for the last time.

“I love you Hanna,” I uttered from the depths of my soul.

When I looked up at her, tears ran from both eyes in an unbroken line down her face.

“Goodbye Jordan,” she said in a cracking voice, and pulled away. I watched her walk out of my life and broke down in sobs unable to control my breaking heart.

Hanna was my first love. I think about her sometimes and its true what they say about first loves; you never get over them. There’s a tiny piece of me that still yearns to be with her.

The month after graduation, I lived in my pj’s and bathrobe until my mother confronted me.

“Jordan, are you planning on spending the rest of your life like this?”

“No mom,” I answered despondently.

“Sweetheart, please tell me what’s wrong? Does this have anything to do with Hanna,”

The tears came, unstoppable and unrelenting. I fell into my mothers arms and cried my heart out.

“My poor baby.” I heard the sorrow in her voice and it only made me cry harder.

In words drenched with emotion and self-pity, I related my sad tale to my mother and she did her best to comfort me.

When You Least Expect It:

During my grief over Hanna, I received a letter from an attorney’s office in New York City. My paternal grandfather had established a small trust fund for me. According to the terms, now that I was twenty one, I was permitted to take a yearly stipend.

The correspondence requested my presence in New York to execute the necessary legal documents. Apparently my dad’s relatives had been trying to track me down for the last couple of years. Except for the one time I had visited my dying father in the hospital, I had no clue that any relatvies on his side existed, let alone with money.

My mother accompanied me when I traveled to NYC. I met my Great Aunt Gertrude and several cousins. Paul was my age and took a real shine to me. We became fast friends in only a few days.

However, most of my new found relatives were Park Avenue rich with the airs to match. But, I learned a lot about my dad. A hell raiser with a love for alcohol, parties and any excess of the flesh, he joined the military to escape his life of privilege. He was the black sheep of the family and wore his cloak proudly, often showing up unannounced at family affairs, blind stinking drunk. In other words, he was a total “fuck-up”.

When he married my mother, a naïve girl from a Chicago working class neighborhood, it was the last straw. After my grandfather ostracized my parent, he never revealed his roots to anyone, not even my mother.

Sometime during the last years of his life, my dad informed his father of my existence and the trust was established.

With the modest income from the trust, I would be able to attend graduate school in New York. My mother and I spoke at length and she agreed that I should pursue my dream of becoming a writer, especially if I had the means to do so.

My move to New York was effortless thanks to Paul. He helped me locate a very small apartment in Greenwich Village and showed me the ropes essential for survival in New York.

Aunt Gertrude (she despised the term Great Aunt Gertrude) insisted that part of my social calendar revolve around family gatherings, weddings, holidays, etc. My attendance was sporadic because I always spent the holidays with my mother in Chicago.

I loathed the sterile formality of my dads family but thanks to Paul and a few other cool cousins, I managed to at least partially enjoy myself whenever I went.

Graduate classes at NYU were challenging and I dedicated myself to writing. I zealously sent story after story to various publishers until one day, a popular literary magazine sent me a check for five hundred dollars.

A tale about star crossed lovers of the same sex, appealed to them and it was a tremendous thrill seeing my effort in print. All of twenty twenty-four at the time, I felt proud of my accomplishment.

After graduate school, I managed to garner employment with a small midtown publishing company as an editor. Both incomes were enough to pay the bills and live without the creditors knocking down the door.

I achieved a limited degree of success and did most of my writing at night when there were few distractions and I could concentrate on the task before me.

On a chill February morning my agent called and in an excited voice told me that he’d been contacted by an independent film company. They were intrigued by my girl meets girl story, the very first that I had published and commissioned me to write the screenplay.

Eighteen months later, I took a leave of absence from the publishing firm and was on a flight to Czechoslovakia. The Eastern European nation is a favorite among small film companies because the cost of production is far less expensive then in Hollywood.

My first day in Prague, I was introduced to Lenka as my interpreter. Her very pretty features threw me for a loop and I discovered I was tongue tied.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” she intoned in flawless English with a Slavic accent. The sound of her voice had a hypnotic effect on me and I caught myself staring at her.

I mumbled something and the next thing I knew Lenka was shaking my hand in the most charming way. For most of the extremely busy day, I was enthralled by her. The girl should be an actress, I mused to myself several times. She exuded a presence and sexuality that resounded inside of me.

It was a warm evening and after a raucous dinner with the film crew, Lenka asked if I’d like to walk back to my hotel instead of taking a taxi. I readily agreed.

Prague is a beautiful city and I was captivated by the architecture of the different buildings and the stunningly attractive young woman next to me.

When we reached the hotel, we stopped in the bar for a nightcap.

“Is this your first visit to the Czech Republic,” she asked.

Her vibrant green eyes held my gaze and I stuttered my reply,

“Yes…ah…yes it is.”

“Do you travel very much for your profession?”

“No…this is my first trip overseas.”

Lenka regarded me with a fair amount of skepticism.

“You are successful writer, yes?”

“I’ve had some success but it hasn’t brought me wealth and fame,” I answered honestly.

Lenka’s expression softened.

“Forgive me but we hear how rich American’s are…owning big houses and several automobiles…”

“I don’t own a car,” I stated factually.

The look of shock on Lenka’s pretty face was priceless.

“I live in New York City…no need for an auto, too expensive and I get around just fine, walking and taking the subway.”

Lenka smiled and chuckled in the most endearing way.

“As you American’s say…the joke’s on me…”

The late hour dictated ending our little tete-a-tete and I walked with Lenka into the lobby.

“Do you have far to go?” I asked.

Lenka looked at me with curiosity and I could tell that she was touched by the concern in my voice.

“No, no, it is not too far…Prague is a safe city…I assure you.”

When Lenka took my hands in hers to say goodbye, the electric sensation reverberated throughout my body.

Sleep escaped me that night and I tossed and turned until the first streaks of dawn appeared in my window. I knew with certainty that I could fall for Lenka. All the danger signs were evident and with three months on location, plenty of time for me to go ga-ga over her.

I contemplated my love life up to that point. Not since my relationship with Hanna ended, now some years ago did I have a significant other in my life.

But, any relationship with Lenka, if and when it might develop was doomed from the start. I would go back to the U.S. when filming was completed and probably never see her again.

Maybe she has a boyfriend or dare I speculate a girlfriend, I asked in my mind. Until I got to know her better, the answer would remain a mystery.

On the movie set, I learned just how tiresome the whole film making process can be. Sometimes it took hours to set up a shot with the proper camera angles, lighting and blocking.

Often, Lenka was asked to interpret the directors orders to the Czeck actors, extras and crew. She did so in a commanding way and I adored how she was able to speak both languages effortlessly. Her knowledge of English and some of its colloquial aspects was impressive.

I managed to hang with Lenka during meal breaks and damn but the girl had a healthy appetite. Admittedly, the quality of the catered food was superior to any good restaurant in the States and I over indulged myself.

After a few days, I realized that if I kept eating at an unrestricted pace, I’d be a fat porker in no time. Whenever I had a free morning or afternoon, I religiously spent time at the hotel spa, working my body to keep in shape.

When the set closed down after a day of filming, we were pals and it thrilled me to no end. If the distance wasn’t too great we would walk back to my hotel, usually stopping at the bar for a much needed alcoholic refreshment.

I described growing up in Chicago, the awful winters with the wind blowing off the lake, my close relationship with my mother, my school daze and life in New York. Why she looked utterly fascinated by all of my mundane stories, I can’t quite fathom.

But, it was during our after work soiree’s that Lenka opened up to me also. An only child, her father died when she was five and she was raised by a single mom, just like me.

“I remember my father as kind man, gentle man. He made me laugh…making silly faces…” Her sad eyes moistened briefly before she smiled at me.

While Lenka’s mother struggled to make ends meet, she earned enough for her daughter to take ballet and gymnastics lessons.

But, Lenka was a top notch student with an ear for languages. She spoke English, Russian and French.

“I like English best of all…hard to learn but I want go to US someday…” she said wistfully.

“Was it mandatory to learn Russian?” I asked, incorrectly guessing that the Soviets still occupied her country when she was in school.

“No, the soldiers left when I was very young…but it is long story… I will bore you”

“Oh, please tell me?” I pleaded.

I ordered another round of drinks and waited patiently for Lenka to resume.

“When I was in…what you Americans say…ah yes…high school, I fall in love for first time. Pavel was very handsome and he liked me too. But…he was Russian…er…half Russian. His mother was Czech but father was Soviet soldier…a big problem in my country,” Lenka took a gig gulp of vodka and continued.

“I keep this a secret from my mother and I have to sneak around to see him. She would forbid me if she found out because she grew up when the Russians occupy my country. You see, she hates Soviets. When I was little girl, she told me about the tanks in the streets, the soldiers always bothering people, arrest people and the prisons full with party dissidents.

Anyway, I see Pavel for maybe one year and my mother…she don’t know. He teach me Russian and I ask him to only speak Russian so I can learn.

Pavel, he always want me to make love with him but I am stubborn and ask him to wait. One night we go to party and he get drunk. He tell me no more Russian until I make love with him. I tell myself that I love him so I say ok.

Big mistake, after we make love Pavel don’t want to see me no more. I am smart and understand that he only wanted one thing from me. He never love me just want to make love.

One day after school I wait for him and yell at him. He is bigger than me but I know that I am stronger than Pavel. He never exercise. He is what you Americans call a ‘couch potato’.

When Pavel try to hit me, I punch him in eye, very hard. Oh, he yell and scream and cry like little baby. I have no sympathy for Pavel and tell him I will hit other eye if he try to hurt me ever again.

I think my mother will not find out but Pavel’s mother see her in store one day and tell her what I did. Pavel is with her and his eye is swollen and purple. When my mother come home she is very angry with me but also very proud that I beat up Russian. Crazy huh?” she said with so much humor that I laughed out loud.

On another night as we sat in the bar, I learned that Lenka graduated near the top of her class at the University and had aspirations because of her talent with foreign languages to go into the overseas diplomatic service. But, with any government position, regardless if its the US or Czechoslovakia, its not what you know but who you know.

“…so I am interpreter for foreigners, movie people, business men, wealthy tourists…it is how you say, ‘a living’…I live with my mother, help her pay for food, rent, clothes…”

Lenka’s honest portrayal of her life had endeared her to me. During her poignant conversations, I found her to be guileless, charming and unaffected with herself, despite her startlingly pretty looks.

When I arrived on the movie set in the morning and saw Lenka, my heart would flutter. Her warm smile would penetrate every part of me and I reveled in the feeling of that I was falling for her.

Was there a chance for me? Lenka’s loves in her young life revolved around men and while she was unattached at the tender age of twenty-three, no mention of a liaison with a woman. But, was that something Lenka would readily admit to anyone let alone a stranger from a different country?

When most of the exterior shots around Prague were in the can (movie talk) we set out for a location some miles outside the city.

The nearby town didn’t have sufficient hotel space for the entire cast and crew, and I was delighted to hear I would share a caravan or trailer with Lenka.

The hours of filming were longer because of the logistics involved. Intensely boring for me because I was along as an observer not an active participant (most authors are there for input on the script, if needed but no one asked me anything)

Lenka was very busy, barking orders to her countrymen on the set and it gave me an opportunity to observe just how stunningly lovely she was with her lustrous blonde hair, creamy complexion and sleek figure.

At night in the caravan, we’d swill vodka with cranberry juice and I discovered that Lenka, like most Europeans could hold her liquor. By the third or fourth round, I was very loopy while she appeared to be perfectly normal.

It was during one alcohol laced evening when Lenka asked me about the content of the movie.

“…film is about two girls…ah…in love?” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered in a slurred voice, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

The two lead actresses were very competent and projected the caring and depth of feeling that the characters had in the story. I was pleased with the performances but Lenka was veering into different territory.

“Please don’t be angry with Lenka…but why you write that kind of story…”

The moment of truth was at hand. The original tale was based in fact from my relationships with Sigrid, Roxanne and Hanna.

As I gulped down another primitive Cosmo, I told Lenka about my sexual orientation and the women who directly impacted my life. Her expression of innocent curiosity didn’t change once as I prattled on.

“It take a lot of courage to tell me…” she stated.

At the time, it was difficult to judge Lenka’s reaction and mentally I rebuked myself for speaking truthfully. However, she was just as open and friendly towards me as before. I chalked it up to the mature attitude that Europeans possessed concerning sex and sexuality.

The following evening our friendship took a different tack that totally surprised me. Our trailer was equipped with a sink and toilet but for baths or showers a trip to the hotel was a necessity. By day three, I was feeling overripe and in desperate need of soap and water on my body. The sponge baths in the caravan just weren’t cutting it for me.

When I informed Lenka that I was headed to the hotel for a hot shower, she extolled her need as well. A sort walk later, we arrived to find that one of two was occupied. I wanted Lenka to go ahead of me but…

“No…we can share, ok?” she asked with pleading eyes.

The thought of seeing her naked, nearly made me swoon. Lenka pulled me toward the curtain, reached in and turned the water on. As she gazed at me with a “come hither” smile, I realized her true intent.

In the tiny adjacent dressing area, Lenka removed her robe and I almost gasped out loud. The sight of her trim, toned and exquisite symmetrical body wowed me to my core. My eyes traveled the length taking in her curves, baseball sized breasts, full dark blonde bush above her pussy and lean muscular legs.

My hands were shaking as I removed my “T” shirt and shorts. I’m not prepared for this, my brain screamed at me.

It was tight quarters in the small space and our soapy bodies made contact several times, sending small jolts of current into my vagina. While I was nervous, Lenka giggled and pinched my compact butt a couple of times.

“I wash your back…” she demanded.

The sensation of her hands and washcloth on my skin ignited a nuclear holocaust in my loins. My crevice was positively boggy and I could faintly detect the pungent odor in the air around us.

When Lenka washed then palmed my ass, I dizzily lost my footing and slumped against her.

“You like when I clean you…” she breathed sexily in my ear.

All I could do was nod my head because at the moment speech escaped me. After a generous rinse, I did the same for her. I took it slow as my hands caressed the slick flesh of her back until they came to rest on her cute rump.

Lenka sighed her approval as I massaged her taut butt. However, a public bath was undesirable for any further exploration and instinctively we both recognized this as she helped me out of the shower.

“You will wait for me? I am almost finished…”

I wasn’t going anywhere without Lenka and as the steam billowed around me, she sang a song in Czech that sounded full of life.

As we walked back to the caravan, Lenka took my arm and her green eyes smoldered with a look of predation.

Oh my God, she wants this to happen my mind shouted silently

Inside, we fell on her on the bed which barely afforded one person any comfort, Lenka gazed at me with affectionate eyes.

“Until I meet you, I never think about woman…this way…”

When she blushed, my heart pounded savagely in my chest.

The luminous beauty in my arms held me close and lightly kissed my cheeks. I audibly moaned as Lenka brushed her lips over mine.

Tenderly and with yearning Lenka kissed me. I can’t recall another time that the simple act resonated so deeply within me. When her tongue wormed its way into my mouth, I groaned my acceptance, my absolute need. We necked until my lips felt numb and I planted gentle wet smooches over her lovely face, neck and shoulders.

Slowly, I opened her robe, savoring the sight of her elegant upper torso. I drank in the beauty of her creamy skin, small breasts and flat belly. But, what intrigued me the most were her succulent little nipples with the puffy base and pointy pencil eraser size ducts on top.

I had to restrain myself from engulfing one because I wanted to prolong Lenka’s first time and truly make it memorable. As my hands squeezed and palmed her tits, I gloried in the downy texture of her skin.

“Oh…oh…oh…you make Lenka feel good…” she sighed.

That’s all I had to hear and lowered my lips to a straining bud. Consumed by a titanic hunger, I suckled, nipped and licked Lenka’s nips until she cried out, panting in breathy gasps. My relentless lips pulled insistently on the tender flesh as she mumbled words in Czech that were beyond my understanding.

Finally, I let a swollen protuberance slip from my mouth and started the inexorable journey to Lenka’s golden triangle. Trailing wet kisses over her tummy, I picked up the faint scent of her sex and it grew stronger until my face was poised just above.

You’re ready my sexy Czech goddess, my brain intuited, and I dove for her privates like a Stuka during the Blitzkrieg. I devoured Lenka with an uncontrolled lust, basting her labia and clit with whirling feathery licks.

Lenka’s butt was elevated off the bed, riding my tongue, pushing it deep into her sopping crease. To say the girl was wet is an understatement, her gash bubbled like a leaky faucet, coating my throat with her distinctive tartness.

I shoved one then two fingers into Lenka’s steaming hole and her head flailed from side to side as she yelled words in her native language. In spite of the language barrier, I knew her orgasm was nearing the boiling point and doubled my efforts. I wanted the act of girl on girl sex to eclipse anything she previously experienced in her young life.

Lenka had the most tumultuous orgasm, I’ve ever witnessed as she thrashed on the bed, pounding her soaked slit on my mouth and coating my face with her sticky juices. It seemed like an eternity before she calmed down and gazed at me with a faraway look in her eyes.

To show my appreciation, I triumphantly licked my lips with the biggest shit eating grin I could muster. Suddenly, Lenka sat-up.

“Now…my turn…” she whispered in a husky voice, and oh sweet Jesus but the girl was a natural.

The caravan was a rockin’ and a rollin’ as I rode my lovers tongue to multiple orgasms. Steam covered the windows and the passionate cries of two women in heat filled the night air.

It was nearly dawn when we snuck over to the hotel for a refreshing hot shower. What a sight we were, two naked ladies cavorting in the stall like a couple of kids. I was positively giddy with joy.

Now the long hours on the set were almost unbearable as I watched Lenka work. Several times she consulted me on the meaning of the words in the script (something I might add that she never did before). With her back turned to the actors and crew, she’d gaze at me with a soulful expression and mouth the words,

“I want…sleep with you.” Her need came across loud and clear.

When filming was concluded for the day, we’d rush back to the trailer, stopping at the catered dinner spread to grab some food. As soon as the door shut, we were all over each other, the sound of wet slobbery kisses dominating the air.

Those four heavenly weeks on location in that backwater Czech town will live in my memory until I breath my last. I fell hopelessly, madly in love with Lenka and in some way, I realized that she was at the very least infatuated with me. She certainly showed all the signs.

Lenka’s sweet caring nature and playfulness were the ultimate turn-on. During the night when sleep escaped us, she’d chatter in English often asking me the true meaning of a word or phrase. Sometimes I would tease her,

“You’re just using me so you can learn English and speak like an American…”

“What you mean…using you?” she asked with a quizzical expression in her adorable accent.

“…like with Pavel…”

“Not true! Not true!” she stated vehemently until she saw the sly grin on my face.

Pretending she was annoyed, Lenka would play wrestle with me on the bed. Her strength impressed me and although I looked more muscular, she was as strong if not stronger than me.

While her thirst for linguistics nearly rivaled her thirst for my piquant juices, our impromptu lessons were often interrupted for a round of lovemaking. I’d purposely left my two best friends, the dildo twins at home. The last thing I wanted was some customs official snooping through my luggage and finding…

One night, I lamented the fact to Lenka who stared at me with uncomprehending eyes. When I grabbed a cylindrical bottle of hand lotion and made buzzing sounds, her eyes grew wide and she chuckled in the most endearing way.

The next evening Lenka surprised me with a cucumber that she must have secured from the catering wagon. We hammered the poor vegetable in each others twats until it was as limp as an overused penis and buried it next to the trailer as a fitting memorial for services rendered.

After all the casual encounters that I had chalked-up over the years, I had found someone that genuinely appeared to enjoy my company, seemed to care about me, took a deep interest in my feelings, my wants and needs.

During our time together, I’d gaze adoringly at Lenka as she laughed or smiled at a joke that only she thought was funny. Her entire countenance would light-up and I’d chuckle along with her even though I had no clue as to what she meant. The girl had the gift of gab and while I had no desire to learn her mother tongue, I could listen to her for hours as she chattered away in both languages.

Lenka could effortlessly shift emotional gears from light hearted to serious, impetuous to mannered and innocent to saucy. My spirit soared in her glowing presence and my heart would pound mercilessly.

I loved her, I had fallen hard and fast for the Slavic goddess.

When we returned to Prague for filming to commence on the sound stages, I asked Lenka to move in with me at the hotel. Although she declined citing her commitment to her mother, she did manage to stay several nights during the week.

But, a sobering reality entered my mind when I realized that we had only a few weeks left to be together. To make matters worse the interior shots were of the more intimate variety. Sometimes, the set was cleared of extraneous persons because the script called for various nude scenes.

The love affair between the two protagonists mirrored my life very closely and it was difficult to watch the disintegration of their relationship without my emotions running riot. My very real affair with Lenka was coming to an end and I would return to the United States desolate and forlorn.

On a cool September afternoon filming concluded in Prague. The wrap party was a raucous affair but I stood glumly in a dark corner, unable to move as a parade of tears tumbled down my face. The next morning I’d be on a jet bound for the US and Lenka would no longer be a part of my life. My soul was in the depths of despair.

Lenka walked up to me and without saying a word, put her arm around me and held me as we walked back to my hotel. In the room, I lay on the bed enfolded in her loving embrace. The storm of feelings inside me refused to go away. Lenka was everything to me now. How could I possibly return to the States without her?

At the time, my courage failed me. I wanted to ask her but something much more important burned in my heart. As she tenderly rubbed my back in a very soothing way, the words I could no longer keep hidden fell from my lips.

“I love you, Lenka,” I blurted out.

Lenka held me so tight that it took my breath away and murmured some words in Czech. She pulled back and gazed at me with an adoring expression.

“Lenka, love you…” and pointed to her heart.

I burst into tears of joy and wept on her shoulder.

“Don’t cry, Jordan…love supposed to be happy… not sad…”

Just the way she said my name Jor Dan made my heart soar with delight

“I’m happy…you’ve made me so happy…” I blubbered helplessly.

I tried to explain how much she meant to me and how difficult my return home would be without her. Then, I saw the tears in Lenka’s eyes and knew she was suffering the same anxiety. What will I do without you, my mind cried in misery.

“You are here now, Jordan…I cannot remove…” she stated with wet eyes, motioning with her hand over her heart.

We clung to each other as the answer to our dilemma remained elusive.

On the long journey home I pined for Lenka and made frequent trips to the lavatory for crying jags. By the time I arrived at the final leg of my journey, Chicago, my eyes were swollen and red.

I had promised to visit my mother when filming ended in Prague and there she was at the airport. As soon as she saw my face she frowned and I collapsed in her embrace, the tears coursing down my cheeks.

“My sweet child…are you that glad to see me? What’s wrong sweetheart…can you tell me?” her voice was filled with parental concern.

I was thirty-two years old but still felt like my mothers’ little girl during my emotional upheavals. In the car I blubbered and bawled my way through the story of my love affair with Lenka.

“…I can’t live without her mom…I love her…” and buried my weeping face in my hands.

When we reached the house, my mother made us some tea. It was her remedy for most of life ailments and on many occasions when I shared a mug with her, I had to agree. But, this time…

“Jordan…dear…I want you stop crying and listen to me, ok?”

It took a lot of fortitude but I managed to stop the flow of moisture from my eyes and gaped at my mother.

If you really love…ah…”

“Lenka…” I finished her thought.

“…you have to find a way to be with her. Do want to live in Czechoslovakia?”

Although I enjoyed Prague, I had no desire to live there. I had become a dyed in the wool New Yorker and the routine of my life revolved around the neighborhood I lived in. The multitude of quirky shops and restaurants that one can only find in a city like the Big Apple were a short walk from my doorstep. Everything I owned and held dear was contained in my diminutive third floor apartment.

However, none of it seemed to matter unless I could share my life with Lenka. I would give it all up for her.

But, What would I do in Prague for employment? Lenka lived with her mother and her salary wasn’t enough to support the two of them. Would I grow resentful giving up my life in the US?

The only solution was for Lenka to live with me in NYC but was I being too presumptuous? For every thought there was a question until I lost track of where I was. I confessed my confusion to my mom.

“Take it slow, have her visit you in New York…see if she likes the atmosphere.”

I started thinking logically. Paul had some influence via his wealth, maybe he could help Lenka find a job using her language skills. She’ll need a Green Card. How does one go about getting one?

Again the questions flooded my head but I kept going back to my mom’s advice. See if Lenka even wanted to live in the US. I hoped and prayed that she would.

All I can say is thank God for cell phones. I didn’t care how much it cost to call Lenka. My need to speak with her super ceded my pocketbook.

It was nearly midnight Prague time when I heard Lenka answer the phone. The sound of her voice had a calming effect on me and I inwardly sighed.

“I am missing you…she uttered in her marvelous accent, and the tears ran down my cheeks.

“I miss you so much,” I blurted out in return.

“You still love Lenka?” she asked in a beseeching way.

“I love you with all my heart and soul,” I answered in a wobbly tear filled voice.

“I am glad because…I love you very much, Jordan,”

Her words tore through me and I sobbed into my cell phone.

“Why are you crying? I say I love you…” I could hear the empathy in her voice.

“It’s…oh…I want to be with you…” I bawled helplessly.

“Me too…” were the only words that I discerned before I heard her sniffling.

After a brief silence, I learned Lenka was taking a few days off to spend time with her mother. Like me, her mother was an important role model in her life. Her next words thrilled me to the bone,

“I want come visit you…if ok with you?” she asked nervously.

“Yes! Please come to New York,” I practically shrieked in the phone.

“I have some money saved…”

“No Lenka…I’ll pay for your plane ticket…” I stated vociferously.

“You do that for me?” She asked tremulously.

My answer spilled out of my mouth,

“I would do anything for you Lenka…I love you.”

“You try to…ah…spoil me…make me love you more…” she said in a cracking voice.

If I’d had my way she’d be on a plane the next morning, instead I pleaded with her to visit over Christmas and New Years. The city looks absolutely dazzling at that time of the year. Lenka wanted to think about it and more importantly discuss it with her mother. After we ended the call, I lay on the couch consumed with intense feelings for the Czech beauty.

By the time I returned to New York, Lenka had accepted my invitation. She talked about her reluctance to leave her mother over the holidays but her mom insisted that she go.

“She is wonderful mother,” Lenka stated with pride.

Livin’ In The USA:

Before her arrival two months hence, I cleaned my apartment from top to bottom several times, bought the types of food I thought she might enjoy and stocked up on vodka. The girl had a penchant for the clear liquor and I guessed we’d be hoisting quite a few libations.

The night before Lenka’s appearance, I tossed and turned, far too excited to sleep. During her absence, I’d masturbated like a mad slut with the image of her lithe body firmly ensconced in my head. Sam and Dave, my two almost worn out vibrators (yes, I named them) would be glad for the rest but then I planned on using them just as frequently on my lover.

When I saw Lenka walk out of the immigration checkpoint, my heart exploded with joy. She looked positively radiant with her wavy blonde hair cascading to her shoulders, flawless creamy complexion, twinkling green eyes and sleek body encased in a pair of jeans that looked painted on her. Wow! My mind exulted.

The next thing I remember we were tenderly holding each other. Lenka kissed my cheek and whispered,

“Jordan…” that’s all she could utter, and I realized that she was choked-up.

As I pulled back, I saw the tears glide down her face and my eyes followed suit. I pulled her tight against my body.

“I missed you soo much…” that’s as far as I got before my voice failed me.

I so badly wanted to kiss her but the middle of the airport is no place for an intimate reunion. Lenka took my arm and gazed at me with the most heartfelt expression as we strode to the baggage claim area.

Although we were both the same height, 5′ 5″ in our stocking feet, I always had the illusion that Lenka was taller. But, it was the way she carried herself with that self-confident air, the same attitude she used on the movie set that made her seem so.

I couldn’t take my eye’s off of her. Is she real? Is she really next to me? My brain questioned.

In the taxi on the way into town Lenka described her flight and her stopover in London.

“Everyone speak English there. I don’t have to translate…”

When I reminded Lenka that the language originated in the British Isles, she blushed in the most charming way and I couldn’t stop myself, I put my arm around her and pulled her towards me for a kiss.

We made out like two horny teenagers all the way to my apartment. Our cab driver got an eye full and I gave him a very generous tip. As soon as I shut my door, were at it again but I didn’t want to bed Lenka just yet. I’d made reservations at an intimate little bistro and I wanted to stick to my plan.

But, Lenka had other ideas and was pulling my sweater over my head. I was powerless to stop her and felt the rush of cool air on my braless tits. Her lips attached themselves to a straining nipple and, my oh my but the girl suckled my breasts until my knees buckled from the sheer pleasure.

“Oh God…Lenka…that feels incredible…” I cried like one of the mythic harpies.

I fell onto the sofa with Lenka on top of me as the heat in my body rose to nuclear levels.

“Oh…oh…oh…oh…” I shrieked in ecstasy as she nipped and lightly bit my bullet hard tips.

The next thing I knew a hand was in my panties, cupping my pussy and running a finger up the center.

“Sweet Jesus girl! Yer driving me crazy…” I shouted.

Any doubts I might have had about Lenka’s desire for me vanished that evening. When I was naked as a jay bird on the sofa, she went down on me like no one before her. We locked hands and I threw my legs over her shoulders as she buried her amazing tongue in my soggy folds.

My butt rose and fell with remarkable fluidity over her sucking lips and blistering sensations scorched my heaving pussy. I lost all sense of time as Lenka had taken to me a state of bliss unknown to me.

When the waves of my orgasm swept over me, I remember crying out, yelling her name,

“Lenka…Lenka…Lenka…” over and over, as an extraordinary feeling of euphoria enveloped my being and, gradually I lost consciousness.

As I regained my senses, I opened my eyes to find Lenka seated next to me with a very concerned look on her radiant face.

“Jordan…you…ah…feint…I am worried…”

I pulled her on top of me.

“My love…my beautiful lover…promise you’ll never leave me…” I whispered huskily in her ear.

Lenka’s kissed me ardently and I saw her misting eyes.

“I love you…very much…I try to say…” she was having difficulty finding the appropriate English words.

Lenka sat up and held her arms outstretched,

“I love Jordan…this much!” she declared with a beaming smile.

We never made it out of my apartment that night, in fact we never left the living room. The neighbors got an earful as our animalistic cries of passion must have penetrated the walls.

The next morning I gave Lenka the tour of my humble abode. The tub and shower combination in the bathroom intrigued her and she insisted that we bathe together. A bubble bath was the perfect way to start a new day.

For breakfast I prepared eggs the way she liked them with thick slices of dark bread. Lenka ate the entire helping and asked for more. We washed them down with vodka and cranberry juice cocktails.

Lenka wanted to experience all the touristy sights and places that New Yorker’s generally avoid. Rockefeller Center, The Empire State Building, Times Square and Fifth Avenue just to mention a few. I indulged her every whim.

In a tradition that my mother started when I was very young, I hauled a small Douglas Fir up to my apartment on Christmas Eve. We decorated the sparse branches of our “Charley Brown” tree and listened to carols on the radio.

After our tree trimming party, we toasted to the holiday with eggnog which Lenka really enjoyed, imbibing several glasses. Sam and Dave got a workout that night and I’m glad neither malfunctioned from the energetic use.

On Christmas Day we cuddled and canoodled, lost in the throes of love until it was time to leave for a celebration at Paul’s apartment in Central Park West. It was a first for me as I usually spent the holiday in Chicago with my mother and aunt.

Paul had invited a select group of family and friends who enthusiastically greeted us. We had the time of our lives with good food, conversation and expensive wines. A truly memorable affair.

In the days leading up to New Years, I took Lenka to the intimate shops and boutiques in the Village that I frequented. I could have dropped a bundle of cash but she refused to allow me the pleasure, instead she chose a couple of outfits that looked stunning on her. Instinctively, I knew that she was a keeper, not a gold digger.

On New Years Eve we watched the ball drop in Times Square on TV but her visit was coming to a close and it put a damper on the celebration. The daunting reality that the next thirty-six hours might be my last with the woman I adored bolstered my resolve.

I wanted to say so much and I slowly gathered the courage that I needed to start what might turn out to be a very painful conversation. The last twelve days only confirmed what I already knew, that I loved Lenka to the depth and breadth of my soul.

After we drained the last of the champagne from our flutes, I took her hands in mine and looked deep into her vibrant green eyes.

“Lenka, I love you…more than I thought it was possible to love someone. You’re a part of me now…and I can’t face the reality that I may not see you again when you leave for home,”

The tears came, I couldn’t stop them and momentarily I lost my voice. Lenka’s eyes were leaking also and in a strangled voice, I continued.

“I want you to be part of my life, to share my life with me…I…was hoping that you would consider living with me…here in New York…I know it’s a lot to ask…”

Lenka flung her arms around me.

“I want be with you…I want share my life with you…” she said passionately.

We kissed passionately but it was imperative that we continue and hopefully come to a resolution. But, I could tell by the look on Lenka’s face that this was not over by a long shot.

For hours we talked about the logistics, how difficult it would be leaving her mother and the life she was accustomed to in Prague. What would she do in the US? What kind of job would she be able to find? The list of questions seemed to be endless.

But, Lenka always returned to the undeniable fact that she loved me enough to give up her existence in Czechoslovakia. Her declaration made me love the blonde hottie all the more.

“I always want come to United States…I like to try living here…but I must talk to my mother before I decide…”

Lenka returned home and we spoke daily about our situation. Her mother gave her blessing and it cheered me to no end.

Paul, bless his heart, was able to clear a lot of red tape and procured employment for Lenka in the international division of his law firm. However, he made the grandest gesture of all by marrying Lenka so she could stay in the US after her visa expired. I will thank him until there is no more breath in my body.

During our first months together, I explained to Lenka that while I had some very well-off relatives, I lived a much more humble life. Along with my trust fund, I still maintained my position at the publishing company. Both were enough to afford me a simple lifestyle in one of the most expensive metropolis in the world.

“I am not here for money…I am here for you…” she said with intense feeling.

Lenka proved the truth of that statement on a daily basis. Her loving attitude, playful spirit and intuition to my needs never failed to amaze me.

I went to sleep with her in my arms and awoke the same way. Our life together was happy, full of joy even on the days when we both arrived home late from our jobs.

Although I preferred dining out at the neat bistros and cafe’s that populated my neighborhood, Lenka was frugal albeit within reason. Her expertise with a dollar impressed me as she refused to spend money frivolously. On weeknights she could whip together a tasty meal in a matter of minutes, a skill that I lacked.

To my great delight, Lenka was a homebody like me but it wasn’t uncommon for us to venture out on the weekends for dining or clubbing.

My dear lovers one passion was the discount places on Canal Street. Not a Saturday went by that we weren’t shopping for clothes or the accessories in the multitude of stores. Lenka could have cared less that the merchandise was designer knock-off stuff.

“If it look good and price is cheap…I buy…” she’d tell the merchants who pestered us for business.

Lenka learned her bargaining skills at the outdoor markets in Prague and I have to admit that she acquired a nifty wardrobe for a tiny fraction of the cost in regular stores.

Watching TV with Lenka was a challenge and about the only time I got frustrated with her. While she liked “Grey’s Anatomy”, “Lost” well, made her feel lost. She questioned everything that happened on the show, driving me crazy in the process. When I ignored her, she’d mutter words in her native language so I wouldn’t understand what she was saying but eventually I got her to admit that it was derogatory.

“A mere trifle,” W.C. Fields said in a movie and if that was my only complaint then I was one lucky girl.

Lenka’s vigorous sex drive was a force to be reckoned and I managed to keep pace with her. Although, I was a few years older, I was in my prime sexually speaking and some of our strap-on sessions were the stuff of legends.

Between us life was grand. Had I found my life mate? In my heart of hearts, I knew it was true. Lenka was my partner, my lover, my companion and I wanted the world to know.

Epilogue:

The day the formal invitation arrived, I opened it and stared at the card inside.

“…requests the honor of your presence at the 80th Birthday celebration for Gertrude…”

The day of reckoning had arrived, my determination to bring Lenka with me to the next family function was firmly entrenched in my psyche. She wholeheartedly supported my decision.

“If we are together…then we go as couple…” she stated forcefully.

There were times when I marveled at Lenka’s pragmatic and very European approach to matters of the heart and life in general

My Aunt Gertrude’s eightieth birthday party was to be held at her daughter Constance’s home in Connecticut. Suddenly, I realized that Paul would be very pleased as he was very fond of Lenka and she was equally as fond of him.

When I entered the banquet room with Lenka on my arm, all eyes turned toward us and time stood still. Paul immediately came up to me.

“Brava my dear Lori,” he said softly in my ear.

As I embraced my cousin, tears crept into my eyes. Paul was the antithesis of all the gossip column trash that seems to follow the wealthy; kind, caring, and generous to a fault. I loved him like a brother. Lenka embraced Paul and when she pulled back, I gaped at his red cheeks.

“Aw shucks…” He stated like some country bumpkin.

Seated at our table, the odd looks and stares from the assembled persons was annoying at first but everyone seemed to warm up to Lenka. With her sweet disposition and charming ways, it was no surprise to me.

Auntie appeared to be agitated by the commotion and during dinner she kept casting strange looks in my direction. At first I thought nothing of it but I found it annoying.

The champagne was flowing freely and I was in dire need of a ladies room when I was directed to one next to the library.

After I exited the lavatory, I saw Aunt Gertrude, the “Dowager Queen” of the family, motioning for me to join her inside a very impressive room lined with books from floor to ceiling.

This is it, I’m out of the family…well maybe not out but exiled for certain, I thought resignedly.

I crossed the threshold and Auntie patted the sofa seat for me to join her.

“Lori dear…you ah…were very brave bringing Lenka with you… ”

Aunt Gertrude’s stumbling words were completely out of character. Her demeanor had softened to the point that she was regarding me with a heartfelt expression.

What the eff is going on, I mused silently.

“I don’t know how put this in the proper words but what I’m about to say, I don’t want to leave this room. Is that clear?” Her rheumy eyes were filled with intensity.

“Excuse me for asking but why all the drama?” I was a little annoyed by her ultimatum.

I’m either in the family or ostracized, make up yer mind ya old crone, I thought angrily.

“…because my dear, what I have to say you may find shocking.”

Good God all freakin’ mighty, get on with it, my brain screamed in silence. Auntie straightened her posture and cleared her throat.

“I was like you once…many years ago. I was attending college when I met someone and fell madly in love. Her name was Daisy and…”

“Whoa…did you say Daisy…you mean a girl?” I asked with a smirk.

“Yes…why do find that amusing?” she enquired, and a hurt look spread across her face.

I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face, this was too rich. My great aunt, the unofficial head of the family was into girls. It took all my self-control to stop smiling.

“I’m sorry Auntie, please tell me what happened,” I said apologetically, and took her wrinkled hands in mine. By now my curiosity was killing me.

“We met in freshman year and spent four glorious years together but you see my dear in the 1940’s, young women, especially those with money and breeding were expected to marry a man of similar background. It was doomed from the start, my family and Daisy’s would never permit us to remain together,” Aunt Gertrude seemed to age ten years, and I saw moisture at the corners of her eyes. She sighed deeply and continued…

“Daisy and I were very much in love. Nether of us was interested in men…I remember my first sexual encounter with the upstairs maid, French of course. She taught me so much that summer of my eighteenth year. By the time I left for college, I’d had a tryst with my mother’s personal maid as well.

I knew that a woman was my only means for sexual satisfaction; a rather novel idea in those days. No one cared if a woman was sexually satisfied. They were supposed to find gratification by taking care of their husband, rearing children, and running a smooth household.”

“But you had four children with Uncle…ah…” I interrupted.

“…Harold my dear, it was part of my wifely duty and I may add, I was fertile as hell. If we’d had sex on a regular basis, I might have had twice that number. But, I allowed him his mistresses and he turned a blind eye to my yearning to be in a woman’s arms.

It’s sad when I think about it but Harold loved me and you may find this surprising but I loved him too. We shared the same bed and I grew to enjoy his presence next to me. Every once in awhile, when the mood was just right…”

I gazed with wonder at my aged aunt.

“Surely you must realize that what you are experiencing is nothing unique, the times are different…I could say I was born eighty years too early but I don’t feel that way. I grew up in my time and in spite of the heart ache with Daisy, they were extraordinary times. I’ve enjoyed the good life that money afforded my family, my children…all the perks of wealth…”

I embraced my aunt with a good deal of affection.

“Thank you dear, I needed that!” she stated forcefully.

At that moment a soft rap on the library door interrupted our tete-a-tete.

“Mother…mother…are you ok?” we heard Constance muffled voice.

The door opened a crack and a face appeared.

“Constance, I’m fine…I’m speaking with Jordan, I’ll rejoin the party in a few minutes…”

“…but their bringing the cake out to sing “Happy Birthday…”

“Oh alright…” Auntie stated with exasperation.

Constance disappeared and Aunt Gertrude let out a chest rattling sigh.

“We’ll continue our talk some other time…I swear, the older I get the more they treat me like a child…especially Constance!”

When we rejoined the party, Aunt Gertrude insisted that I sit next to her with Lenka by my side. But, something had changed. My aunt genuinely appeared to be enjoying herself and cast smiling glances at me and Lenka.

Her eightieth birthday was a milestone in her life but her revelation about her past had stirred something inside me. I vowed to write an account of her early years.

Sadly, that was the last time I saw Aunt Gertrude hale and hearty. Several months ago, she developed pneumonia during an Atlantic crossing on the new Queen Mary II. By the time the ship docked in New York, she was gravely ill and never recovered.

Auntie’s funeral was difficult for me because she had opened up to me in a way that I would never have expected. She shared something with me that I doubt she discussed with her own children or closest friends. In that tiny amount of time I felt like we had bonded.

And, so dear Readers, my life with Lenka continues. Where will it lead? We are still very much in love and the hopefully the bond we have forged will last a lifetime.

All I know is that my heart beats faster when I’m with her and an overpowering feeling of love inhabits my soul. I hope I never lose that.