Your erotic stories

How I found bisexuality and a complete new world.

I met her at the gym. We went there at roughly the same time a few days each week. After a couple of weeks we acknowledged each other with a nod and a smile, after another few weeks it was “hello,” and after another week or so it was “how are you?”

That was followed in the forthcoming months by longer chats as we worked the machines, had a coffee or a juice after our work out, a meal after the gym and eventually a fuck at my house.

*

I’ve been married over twenty years, I have two children, both of whom are at university and my husband, a corporate lawyer travels an awful lot. He is away probably two weeks a month and I am very lonely indeed. I look for new hobbies and pastimes; I have to find ways to fill my days. I do some voluntary work and some part time editing work for a publishing house my family used to own. I play a lot of tennis, I am learning to play golf and bridge and I go to the gym most days. Naturally I shop a lot, I read many books, I have a wide circle of friends and, surprisingly a fairly active social life. None of which, however, compensates for the loneliness.

I have had what I guess is a fairly typical sex life. I ‘gave’ my virginity away in nice circumstances to a guy I loved, for all of three weeks, just after my eighteenth birthday. I had three other flings before meeting Richard when I was in my early twenties. We married after a couple of years. I have had one affair that lasted for about six months, a few years ago and I have never had a bisexual or lesbian moment in my life.

Oddly, maybe, as I have got older I have felt more sexual. I think about it more. I use yahoo messenger now and then, I write some erotic stories for a site and I exchange emails with guys I meet on both sites. I have many sexual fantasies. My sex life with Richard is ok, no more than that and maybe less. He is always tired and either, seems to have just got home or, is just going away, it doesn’t leave a lot of time for a strong sexual relationship, certainly not as it used to be.

In the past few years I have found myself masturbating more frequently and at present I probably do that every other day.

*

“Hi, I’m Catherine, Cat for short” I said between the ‘hello’ and ‘how are you’ stages.

She smiled. “Hi I’m Emma.”

She was younger than me, probably early thirties, maybe even late twenties. Attractive with short, dark hair she was about five five and nicely slim. In her gym gear there was no unsightly lumps or bumps, her tummy was flat, her bum looked firm and nicely rounded and she had pert, probably B cup, but well rounded boobs.

I on the other hand am ash blonde. My hairs is shoulder length and slightly wavy. I am five feet seven, have long and I think shapely legs and a reasonable bum. Many, and that is gleaned from observation over twenty years, consider my D cup breasts to be my crowning glory; they are both full and round.

Emma and I got on well. She was easy to talk to, smiled and laughed frequently and seemed to be interested in anything and everything. She was engaged, but had no idea when and even if they would marry. She worked as an estate agent, which gave her the time to visit the gym in the mid afternoons as I did, for she worked most evenings.

It was pleasant having someone to chat to either, between exercises or, after we’d finished. It was also nice for me because it ate up time, something I had too much of, especially when Richard was abroad, although even when he was home he rarely got home before nine.

I suppose it all started when we were having a coffee in the café at the gym when Emma said.

“You really do have an incredible figure Cat.”

Smiling and a little embarrassed I said. “Did you forget something Emma?”

“What do you mean?” She asked looking puzzled.

“Well nowadays when anyone says that to me,” I said suddenly realising that the only people that said it were guys on yahoo to whom I had sent a photo, but I had to continue. “They generally add or infer for your age.”

Emma laughed at that. She looked good when she smiled or laughed for unlike many people she seemed to smile with her entire face. “Not at all, many women half your age would love to have your body.”

“Would they now?” I replied not realising at first the double entendre road we were going down.

“Of course they would love it.”

“Well you have a great figure too Emma,” I tentatively replied.

“Do you think so?”

“Yes and I am sure many would love to have that too.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Mmmm well you never know.”

Nothing that overt or obvious, but probably a starting point.

Richard was away at the time and I was feeling particularly frustrated. I had some pasta, ciabatta bread, salad and a couple of glasses of red wine for dinner around eight. If anything that made me feel hornier. That was because, stupidly it was an Italian meal, and I so adore Italian men even though I have never had one. I slipped my white, gym tee shirt off and undid the clasp at the back of my black sports bra. Removing that was such a relief for to provide the necessary support and to stop the bloody great lumps of flesh leaping around at the gym, it has to be tight: put on a few ounces and it’s too tight. I sat there nibbling on a few raspberries topless, it felt good. I often work naked or just in panties around the house. The black, lycra pedal pushers were very tight, everywhere. I touched myself and it felt as if my entire pubic area pulsated. I pushed on where I knew my clit was. It felt lovely rubbing my clit through the lycra, so I masturbated like that and made myself cum quite heavily in my gym clothes. They had to be washed in any case!

There was another incident the following week. We were again in the gym café.

“You don’t seem to be your normal self today Cat, is everything ok?”

“Yes everything’s fine.”

“Tell me to mind my own business” she said reaching across the table and placing her hand on the back of mine. “But are you sure, you look so sad.”

I told her that I’d an awful row with Richard about him spending so much time away from home. It had gone on and on and then he had got up earlier than me this morning and had left for a ten day trip to the west coast of America.

“Oh fuck, I hate men problems, but I do have a sure fire solution.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Come to the pub and get drunk.”

I laughed. “Oh yeah, what pub is that?” I asked joking.

“The Finch at nine tonight.”

“Really?”

“Yes absolutely I can’t have my gym mate all upset can I?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well I do and be there,” she said squeezing my hand, standing up, looking me in the eye, smiling and adding. “I consider it a date.”

I wore blue denim jeans, and a white shirt with a dark blue cashmere pashmena round my neck. I was wearing strappy mid heeled sandals and my dark red painted toenails seemed like beacons as I looked down. I felt pretty good.

We didn’t get drunk and in fact only had a couple of drinks each.

“You seem better already,” Emma said as I walked into the pub. She got up from the bar stool and gave me a peck on the cheek, her hand slipping between my arm and body and almost touching the side of my boob.

“Yes I am,” I smiled. “Those moods about my husband pass quickly.”

She was also wearing jeans and as we sat on the high stools our knees would touch now and then. Nothing that obvious, nothing that suggestive, just accidental brushing of our knees.

We talked easily and she told me that she was quite worried about the thought of getting married.

“I mean forsaking all others” she laughed.

“Yes it is a pretty tall order these days.”

Laughing she said. “Tall? It’s fucking gargantuan.”

I gave her a lift home. It was just a little way out of my way. She house shared a pretty Victorian cottage with two others, a girl and a man. They were buying the cottage between them, which seemed to be a pretty good idea, but of course could cause problems if any of them wanted to pull out.

“Like to come in for coffee or, something?” She asked, her eyes glinting.

I did. It was very clean, almost pristine inside. She introduced me to Gordon.

“He’s the housekeeper,” she explained adding as they both smiled “And not the only gay in the village,” playing on a term from a popular TV show

“No there’s quite a community isn’t there love,” he said rather strongly. They bandied that about a bit quite losing me.

“Well goodnight Cat,” Emma said as we stood on the doorstep.

“Yes right goodnight Emma.”

She leaned forward, again slipping her hand between my arm and body and this time brushing the side of my boob. That didn’t particularly worry me for it happens all the time when men give me a peck on the cheek; by accident of course, but it did make me jump.

Emma pecked me on the cheek and said. “Thanks for coming Cat and the lift home.”

As I started walking down the path she called out. “I hope you enjoyed our date Cat, I did.”

As I masturbated that night in my bed I was absolutely amazed that in my mind I kept seeing Emma’s face. Nothing more, not her breasts or her naked body and certainly not us doing anything, simply her pretty face looking at me as I dredged up one of my favourite fantasies, a gang bang where I am had by a number of men. I made myself cum particularly heavily with one guy in my mouth, one between my breasts, one in my pussy and one up my ass: simply wishful thinking of course!

Most women don’t seem to shower after working out, but go home in their gym clothes and shower at home. It’s something to do with not wishing to show your body off in front of other women. It’s the same at the tennis club and, as I was starting to find out at golf as well.

Emma, though, usually had to go to work straight from the gym so she usually did shower.

A few evenings later, around six thirty, we were the only two left in that part of the changing room. I was not showering so was about to leave, when Emma said. “Hang on let’s have a coffee or something.”

“Ok.”

“Let me grab a quick shower” she said pulling her singlet off and quickly unclipping her bra. She dropped those on the bench and slid out of her dark blue, tracky trousers with three white lines down each leg. She stood there momentarily in her white, cotton panties. I looked away, but couldn’t help seeing her nicely shaped tits with small, coral pink areola and nipples.

“Be a love and watch my stuff as I shower, save me shoving it all in the locker” she said slipping her panties off and wrapping a towel round her.

When she came out of the shower wrapped in a towel, I said that I would get the drinks and she asked for a white wine.

I was in the café when she walked in. She was wearing a crisp white blouse, and a grey, pinstripe power suit, with a three button jacket undone and a tight pencil skirt with black tights or stockings. She looked fabulous.

“Wow you look great.”

“Thanks ma’am, praise indeed coming from you.”

Smiling I went on. “The real deal, the real high powered businesswoman.”

She laughed. “More high sexed than powered babe,” she said plomping herself down on the couch beside me, her skirt rearing up her legs sufficient enough to show that she was wearing stockings and not tights. Her hip was pressed tightly against mine and I wiggled a bit to move away. After the drinks had been delivered and we’d chatted for a while I was surprised to find that again our hips were touching; the softness of the sofa I thought. I didn’t move and actually it felt nice.

We drank our wine and suddenly Emma’s Blackberry buzzed. She looked at it and said. “Oh shit, I forgot an appointment, I have to run.”

Standing up she put her hand on my shoulder, leaned forward and pecked me on the cheek. As she did her crisp white blouse gaped and I couldn’t help looking down it. I was embarrassed when I saw that she had seen me looking.

“Nice Cat?” She said ambiguously, turning and walking across the bar, emphasising I am sure the wiggle of her pert bum and rounded hips in the tight skirt.

Richard was home that evening having returned from yet another tedious bloody business trip the day before. He got home from work around eight, we went out to a local restaurant for a quick meal and then went home and straight to bed. He fucked me. I felt nothing really, it was just a

fuck. I felt that I was just a hole into which he could shove his dick and fuck away. I made the expected sounds and moves and I did have an orgasm, but again Emma was looking on. This time I kept seeing those pert boobs, pink nipples and her legs in lacy top hold-ups. What’s happening to me was the thought that was in my mind as I drifted off to sleep.

“Fancy a meal one night this week?” She asked a week or so later.

We went to a little Italian and we got a little pissed. We laughed a lot, we were very touchy feely and several times Emma put her fingers on my wrist or on the back of my hand. I wasn’t sure whether the times our knees or feet touched under the table were deliberate or not.

“No you need to stretch like this,” Emma said at the gym a few days later.

I was lying on my back on the floor with one knee bent. I was pulling that to stretch the muscle. She knelt beside me. We were in one of the small gyms off the main room, we were the only two in there. She knelt beside me and held my upper thigh with one hand and my calf with the other. Looking into my eyes she said, rather huskily I thought. “It needs to go back like this so that your heel touches your bum.”

Holding my thigh quite firmly about four inches down from my pussy, she pulled on my lower leg until my heel did touch my bum.

“Pull it up like that and then ease it down like this she explained” pulling my lower leg away until my knee straightened. She did that several times.

I could not believe the sensations I felt and I had to struggle to hide them. I certainly couldn’t speak for I was sure my voice would be just a croak and I had to avert my gaze from hers for I was sure that would give something away. She manipulated my leg like that several times.

“See what I mean, your body should be telling you somthing?” She asked leaning right over me so that our bodies in general and our breasts in particular almost touched. I had no idea what she meant, but my body was telling me something. I didn’t have the nerve to ask what it should be telling me or tell her what it was saying.

That evening as I lay on my sofa in my conservatory listening to a Bach violin concerto, I felt hands on my breasts. In my mind, I could see as plainly as anything that they were Emma’s hands.

“Wow what a house,” Emma said as we drove up the drive to the six bedroom Victorian pile set in two acres that Richard inherited from his grandmother. I hated most of it, but loved the conservatory I’d had built on the back. It looked out over a lawn that sloped down to a large pond That’s where I was going to serve dinner for Emma and me.

I don’t really know why I invited her. The feelings she had been giving me lately certainly meant that I was tempting fate, but I asked her to dinner on an impulse. As usual Richard was away and neither of my children were home from uni.

“I hate it really,” I said as I grilled the lamb cutlets.

“Why?”

“Well it’s Victorian and I think quite ugly, but mainly because it came from his family.”

“His? Richard, your husband you mean.”

“Yes.”

When I had asked her to dinner, Emma said that she was working, but would come straight from a house showing. Although she had told me that I was still surprised when I opened the door and saw she was wearing the same power suit and blouse as she had at the gym a few days ago; she looked fantastic and made me feel underdressed in my short sleeved, yellow scooped front tee shirt type top and denim skirt. As I still had the remnants of a tan from our week at our house in Florida, I hadn’t bothered with tights, although the recent chilly October evenings would put an end to that very soon. The skirt was probably shorter than a forty something should wear and my twenty year old daughter always looked disapprovingly at me when I wore anything with the hem above the knee; I had no idea what she would think of this hem for it was a good six inches above my knees, still it made me feel good. I knew also that the top was a little tight and a little low for it was moulded to my boobs and I did show quite some cleavage. In retrospect I have often wondered whether there was some sub conscious reason for me, innocently I swear, dressing rather sexily.

As we ate dinner, I told her how I resented the fact we had to sell a lovely modern house in Richmond to come and live in this dump in Hertfordshire.

“Are you unhappy Cat?” she asked taking a sip of wine, putting her glass down, sliding her hand across the table and resting her fingertips on the back of my hand.

“I’m not really sure Emma, perhaps lonely more than unhappy. I just don’t seem able anymore to see where my life is going”

“I know what you mean I feel exactly the same sometimes” she said moving her fingertips on the back of my hand. I saw that she had fashionably square cut nails with the end few millimetres painted white and the remainder simply shiny with clear varnish.

“But you have so much going for you, you’re engaged.”

“Yeah right, tell me about it,” Emma said rather gloomily. I had thought for some time that she wasn’t at all sure about her relationship with Harry, but it wasn’t something I wanted to get into. She did though. “I’m not all sure I am doing the right thing” she went on her eyes looking right into mine.

I topped up our wine glasses. We had just started the second bottle of a nice South African Sauvignon Blanc.

“Let’s take our wine over to the sofa,” I said indicating a settee on the other side of the conservatory.

I’d had the almost twenty feet square conservatory built on a split level. The higher level as you enter it from the house was a dining area and had been where we’d been sitting. Half way across the room there were two steps down which led to a sitting area that looked out onto the garden and fish pond, both of which were lit up with numerous spotlights. It was a beautiful view and I just loved sitting on the deep cushions of the incredibly comfortable sofa looking out at it. As I followed Emma across the room, down the steps and to the sofa it suddenly struck me that the last time I had sat on it, I had masturbated imagining her hand on my breasts. As she sat down and the tight, pinstripe skirt reared up her nylon covered legs, a little shiver ran through me.

“You sit here often?” She asked.

“Yes most nights when Richard’s away. I read, listen to music and sometimes drink too much.”

Sounds divine,” she said as we both took sips of wine from the large glasses.

We had turned so we were half looking at each other. Emma had removed her jacket and I saw that the crisp, white blouse was very tight around her boobs and across her back, it gaped a little at each buttonhole. She looked great and I felt slightly tipsy.

As we had turned, so we had bent our legs at the knees and these were almost touching. Emma rested her right elbow on the back of the sofa and used that to support her head. As she was slightly behind me, I had to turn even more to look at her. I did, our eyes locked, she raised her eyebrows, we smiled and she said. “Ok Cat?”

“Yes Emma,” I replied leaning back so my head was against the sofa.

“You sure?” She said quietly as her hand moved from supporting her head towards mine.

I looked up and replied quietly.

“Yes.”

Her fingers found a strand of my hair and stroked it.

“I mean Cat, are you really sure?”

I wasn’t quite sure what she meant. Whether she was referring to our earlier conversation about being lonely or to her fondling my hair. She had pulled her knees onto the seat of the sofa and tucked her feet under her bum. That made her skirt ride further up her legs and, as it was only a two seater sofa, placed her knees very close to my leg.

I felt nervous. Half of me was thinking that she was making a pass, the other half thought I was being silly and mistaking pure friendliness for something more. The surprising thing to me was that part of me, probably quite a large part too, wanted it to be a pass.

Her fingers went deeper into my hair, she ran long strands through them, slowly and deliberately.

“This ok?” She said sounding rather breathless and a little husky.

I couldn’t look at her, I had my eyes cast down, I certainly couldn’t speak. I had never felt anything like the sexual tension and the sheer nervousness I was experiencing. And that was suddenly heightened when I saw just how far her skirt had now ridden up her legs. There was absolutely no doubt that again she was wearing holdup stockings.

“Wine often makes me feel very er, mellow” she said softly her hand now touching the crown of my head her fingers softly rubbing it in little circles; it was clearly a caress, maybe a signal of something I thought, but what, I wondered? Surely it was a pass, surely this wasn’t her just being friendly, surely this was a lesbian or at least bisexual advance?

“Mellow?”

“Yes Cat mellow. You know what I mean don’t you?”

“No, yes, I don’t know, I’m not sure.”

“Look at me?”

My heart pounding so Ioud I was sure she would hear it, I raised my eyes and turned my face towards her. She smiled and in her eyes I saw the look I had seen in many men’s eyes over the years. She wanted me, I knew it; it now seemed so obvious. All the previous events and experiences now had a meaning.

“You must know Cat.”

“What?” I croaked as I saw her face moving towards mine.

“That I feel more than just friendship.”

“Oh,” I whimpered rather pathetically.

“You do understand don’t you?” She whispered her face now just inches from nine; I still looked down.

“I don’t know Emma.”

I felt rather than saw her moving closer. She took hold of my chin, I did nothing. She brushed my hair away from my face. She slid her lips across my cheek. It made me jump, but it felt so nice. Pulling on my chin she turned my face towards her, I didn’t react, but I kept looking down and not at her.

“Cat, I think you do know,” she whispered as I felt her stockinged knee press firmly against the bare skin of my leg a few inches above my knee. “Look at me Cat.”

I looked up, our eyes met, she moved her face closer and then she kissed me. It was not a full mouth kiss, but one where both of her lips kissed and gently sucked my lower lip. I didn’t respond, but then I didn’t pull away.

“Is this ok?” She asked. I couldn’t muster any words, but I nodded and she kissed me again. Once more it wasn’t a full on kiss, more a lip caress than anything, but it felt lovely. I was shaking with nervousness. “You have guessed haven’t you Cat?”

“Guessed what?” I croaked.

“About me, about us?”

I didn’t know what to say, what stance or direction to take. I felt light headed, it was as if my mind had left my body and I had a ringing, no more a rushing sound in my ears. But then my mind exploded with emotions as I heard some of, if not the most erotic words I had ever heard.

“Have you ever been kissed by a woman before Cat.”

A little moan slid past my lips, a little groan and a sigh, more a whimper escaped as I felt the pressure on the back of my head pulling it towards her. I looked up and opened my eyes just in time to see her lovely lips opening and once more seeking mine. Just before they found them I mewed. “No I haven’t.”

This time it was a full on kiss. This time it was an open mouthed, lip squirming kiss. This time it was a tongue plunging kiss. And this time it was a kiss to which I found both my mind and body responding. It wasn’t, though a particularly long kiss, but it was a sweet, passionate and interesting one.

Her lips and mouth were softer than what I was used to, everything was smoother and her perfume wafted over me. There was none of the harsh bristles of a man and she seemed instinctively to know exactly how I wanted to be kissed. First, enquiring and passionate then soft, gentle and loving and then alternating between both.

She broke the kiss, but left her right hand on the back of my head in my hair and kept her face very close to mine. I again looked down for I was finding the whole situation very difficult to cope with. I was embarrassed, but excited, confused yet intrigued and interested but concerned. My heart was pounding and my pulses were racing. I was panting slightly and my body felt like jelly. I kept telling myself this couldn’t be happening to me, but the pressure of her hand on the back of my head told me that indeed it was.

“Never, not even once Cat?”

“No Emma, well not like that?” I said as she ran the back of the fingernails on her other hand across my cheek and lips to my chin.

“Like what?” She asked softly as she smiled and her eyes glinted at me.

“You know,” I whispered as I kept my eyes averted from hers.

She ran her fingertips onto my neck and down to where my neck joins my shoulders.

“Yes Cat, but I want you to tell me, I want to hear it from you,” she went softly stroking along the underside of my collar bone. It felt so sensual, so intimate and so come on I could hardly resist her.

“What?” I groaned as I felt my body responding strongly to her touch that was now moving down the bare skin of the top of my chest.

What type of kiss Cat? What type of kiss was it for you?”

“Oh Emma you know.”

“Yes, but tell me Cat. Tell me what it was?” She asked as her fingers reached the neck of my top and held the edge of the material.

“Oh Emma it was, oh you know, sexy.”

“Oh Cat yes, yes it was,” she whispered her mouth going very near to my ear as her fingertips slid a few millimetres inside the neckline of my yellow top. “And were you comfortable with that?”

I hesitated as I took in the feeling of her fingertips slightly inside my top on my bare skin just where my breast flares out from my chest.

I looked at her; her eyes were full of tenderness and concern. She looked so pretty. Hardly audibly I whispered. “Yes Emma.”

As I said that so her hand slid further down the outside of my top and she brushed her fingertips across my right breast. It was as if I had an electric shock.

“And this?” She asked her lips and tongue finding my ear as her fingers continued to slide softly over my boobs.

“Oh Emma,” I groaned loving the sensations but fearing that they were so wrong as her lips again found mine.

This time the kiss was blatantly sexual, it was full of meaning and suggestiveness. She used her tongue like a cock and my mouth like a cunt. She was fucking my mouth with her tongue as, at the same time, her hand cupped my left breast and squeezed it with exactly the amount of pressure it wanted. It felt wonderful and unconsciously, I swear, I pushed my boob against her hand.

The kiss went on for what seemed an age and the longer it went on the better it became. Not only that, but also the more it continued the more I began to relax and before I was fully aware of it I had put my arms round her neck and I was kissing her back, just as I did with Richard.

“Cat I have wanted to do this for so long,” Emma whispered as she parted our mouths and we looked into each others eyes her hand still cupping my breasts.

“Have you Emma,” I replied rather inanely, not really having any idea how to reply.

She kissed me again and once more I felt her fingertips back on where my breast swells out from my chest. This time, though, they didn’t stay there but were slowly edged downwards inside my thin top to the edge of my bra and then slightly inside that so her fingertips could only have been a tiny distance from my nipple.

Was this going too far I wondered? Not necessarily too far physically, but emotionally. Was it too much too soon? Had she taken me from an innocent wondering whether I was reading the signs correctly to her co-respondent in lesbian love too quickly? Was she pushing my boundaries too far and was she stretching my sexuality flexibility to breaking point? I didn’t know, but I was close to stopping her, pushing her off and slinking back to my comfortable world of heterosexuality.

Close, but not quite there. I was mulling on that when I felt her hand slip right inside my bra and cup my bare breasts. I was still mulling when she pinched my nipple between her finger and thumb and there was still a degree of mull when I felt her pull my top down so that she bared my breast.

The mulling stopped though when, with a low noise, almost like that made by a cat when very content she said in a quiet whisper. “Oh God Cat they are beautiful, your breasts are magnificent.” Without any further ado her lips went round my nipple and she sucked it like a baby on a teat.

I cried out, I arched my back and my hands held her head pulling her mouth more firmly to me. The pleasure was immense and put an end to my mulling. In retrospect it was that moment that instance when she first sucked my nipple that ended my bi curiosity and addiction to being straight.

“Cat can we go somewhere?” She asked.

I had no idea what she meant. “Why?”

“I feel on show surrounded by all this glass.”

“It’s totally secluded, no one can see. What’s the problem?”

“I want to make love to you Cat, I want to have complete and utter sex with you, I want to take you to bed. And I can’t do it with all this fucking glass round me, I feel as if I’m in a fish bowl.”

Although she made me smile as her fairly frequent swearing did, her words crashed over me like a waterfall. They were so erotic, so wanton, so appropriate and so exactly what I needed to hear, I think. But I was reticent. The enormity of what Emma was suggesting felt overwhelming and once more I went into a state of total conflict. I was afraid, afraid of the unknown, of going past a vague point I thought of as my sexual boundary and afraid of the potential consequences of doing that. Yet I was incredibly aroused and amazingly excited. Emma had made me feel things I’d never experienced before. I liked being with her. She was so gentle and caring, considerate and kind,

yet very knowing, sexually wise and very, very seductive. I wanted to please her. My body wanted to do as she asked, but my mind was urging caution. My inner self was saying yes, my alter ego, no.

“Well Cat?” She asked sitting up straight her blouse stretching across her breasts and gaping at each buttonhole showing sights of her bra and boobs.

“I don’t know Emma, I just don’t know.”

We stood up and she kissed me, well more licked my lips again; it was so different and it was gorgeous.

“I think you do know Cat, I think you know very well, don’t you?” She asked holding my face with both hands and looking deep into my eyes.

She kissed me again. No she didn’t kiss me, this time we kissed. And this was again something so different and so wonderful. To be in her arms, to have her in my arms, to have my breasts against her, to have her breasts against me, to feel my tummy against her body, to feel her stomach against mine, to have our legs pressed together were all incredible. Her hands were in my hair, up and down my back and on my bum squeezing it; I held mine still on her back, for some reason right on her bra strap.

As she broke the kiss she repeated. “You do know don’t you Cat.”

“Yes Emma, yes I do,” I said in hardly a whisper. “Come on,” I said sliding my boob back into my bra and pulling my top up.

I took her to a spare room, we have plenty in the ugly Victorian pile. I thought it wiser, more considerate. We stood by the bed. “Ok Cat?”

“Yes.”

“You sure, we can stop right now and never talk about it again,” she said putting a strong psychological argument to me. After saying yes I could hardly now say no so I said.

“I’m sure Emma.”

She took me in her arms again and whispered. “I take it you have never done anything like this before with a woman.

“No, nothing.”

“Not even at school?” She asked sliding her hands inside the hem of the tee shirt type top.

“No.”

“Or at uni?” She persisted easing it upwards.

“No nothing,” I replied as the yellow material came over my boobs, up my chest and off my head.

“Oh God Cat, just look at what all womanhood has been missing.”

I smiled. “You flatterer.”

“Yes absolutely” she said smiling back and cupping both of my breasts inside the white, lace as good as see through bra. “And from where I am standing Cat, it gets me everywhere,” she went on adroitly unclipping my bra and quickly removing it. She looked, no she stared intently at my naked tits. My nipples had hardened completely and I felt a little embarrassed, even though I am generally comfortable about how my boobs look. Her hands pushing them together and pinching each nipple sent streams of excruciatingly lovely sensations through me. “And if you’ll forgive my coarse language,” she went on. “They are fucking lovely. She kissed each breast in turn

“Oh baby you just get on the bed like that.” I sat on the edge of the bed

She stood beside it, close to me so that our knees touched. Hardly taken her eyes from my body for a second, as she undid her blouse, nonchalantly unclipped and removed her bra and then slid her skirt off. She looked gorgeous and, I acknowledged hugely sexy, something I doubt I would have even thought about let alone acknowledged a few weeks ago. Wearing just a black thong and her long, lacy topped, hold-ups with her high heeled shoes she looked awesome.

She sat beside me. “You look amazing Cat,” she whispered as she put one arm round my shoulders, cupped my breast with her other hand and then kissed me. After a little while we fell back so we were lying on the bed. It was then that I touched her breast. I knew of course from touching my own what the feel was like physically. It was the emotional touch that hit me, particularly as she closed her eyes more tightly and let out a little moan.

“Mmmm that’s lovely,” she sighed as her hand edged enquiringly down me, moving from my breasts to my chest, onto my tummy and further onto my lower abdomen and then up the few inches of my skirt until it touched my pubic mound. She cupped that in her hand and squeezing me through the thin, silky material she applied the wonderful pressure to my clitoris. That made me erupt with a level of sexual pleasure that I had forgotten existed. It sent feelings of such intensity through me that I started to cum immediately. She instantly recognised this and, continuing the little circular movements of her fingers right on that magic spot, she cuddled me tightly to her with

her other arm so that our breasts were again pressed together the nipples merged into one mass of pink, rubbery sensations.

I shuddered to a rapid and very, very heavy climax in which my breath came in deep pants. I began to sob due to the sheer intensity of the feelings I was experiencing. Emma was with me through every shudder and spasm, every sigh and groan and every shiver and shake of my body. Seemingly thinking nothing about taking, but being focused on just one thing, making this the most wonderful experience she could for me.

It was so different to be totally the centre of attention with my pleasure being the only agenda item. Different due to the lack of the urgency that precedes a man’s ejaculation. Different due to the gentleness, her knowing ways, her softness and sweet smell and the lack of body hair. The feelings I gained were similar to those with a man but so different in many ways.

Momentarily sated I collapsed in her arms. Sobbing and heaving partly at realising the boundary I had just crossed, partly from the guilt of cheating on my husband, partly with a sort of fear or in a way shame as thoughts of my children flooded my mind, but mainly from the sheer degree of sexual pleasure that I had just gained. It was the most emotionally draining experience I had gone through since I had lost my virginity.

We lay there for some time Emma softly stroking my hair, lightly touching my breasts and planting small kisses on my cheeks. With me still in my skirt and her in her black panties and stockings there was a mood of gentleness combined with expectancy of what was still to come from this elegant and erotic wantonness. I had never experienced anything like this for normally men seem to want to get away from the woman almost as soon as he has climaxed. But with Emma that seemed the furthest thing from her mind.

With both of us now fairly, but by no means totally, relaxed, we chatted in the way we usually did at the gym. Emma explained that she had been attracted to women for many years and that now she considered herself to be almost completely bi-sexual for she still enjoyed a very active sex life with her boy friend “And” she went on with a giggle. “With the odd bit on the side now and then.”

Obviously I took the chance to question her on whether the feelings I had gained with her meant that I was potentially a lesbian. “Absolutely not” she said with conviction. I also asked would I in the future be likely to become more and more attracted to women. She explained that it doesn’t work like that. Her feelings and those of other bi-sexual girls she knew were sort of compartmentalised and that when with men they were totally straight but then, again, when with women they were quite the opposite. “But, she laughed cupping my breast, it does mean you can enjoy both and believe me threesomes can be great, reckon Richard would fancy me?”

Smiling I replied. “Any man would Emma,” as the rather bizarre thought of my somewhat staid lawyer of a husband indulging in a threesome. But then I thought maybe something like that is needed to rekindle our sex life.

“Would you do that?”

“Maybe, would you ask him?”

“I’m not sure.”

As we were talking we were touching and cuddling and she was occasionally kissing me and gently licking my face and eyes and lips and neck. Stroking my hair and so softly touching my breasts and tummy I felt so comfortable and relaxed that I quite rapidly reached the conclusion that there could be nothing at all wrong with something as beautiful as this and I began to become a more active participant.

I returned her caresses by running my fingertips across her face and lips and by running my hands through her dark, fairly short hair. I trickled them down her neck and across her chest. Plucking up my courage I trailed them across her smallish breasts and nipples that, as I became more aroused, seemed to take on an almost magnetic attraction. To me they assumed enormous proportions and I felt myself thinking how much I would like to take them into my mouth and suck on them like a baby. It struck me then that of course I could do that and it struck me even harder when I thought ‘I will do that.’

As she saw my more enthusiastic responses so she became more active and the mood between us changed back to one of intensity and passion. We were now both kissing each other on the mouth and our hands were moving across the other’s breasts with more urgency cupping and kneading the soft, pliant and, to me, such, exciting flesh . Emma ever so gently rolled me onto my back and laid on her side her hand fully embracing my boob her finger and thumb rolling the nipple between them. Kissing deeply I felt her hand moving. It came away from m y nipple and stroked the underflesh of my right breast, it moved further onto the bottom of my ribcage and kept going until she slid her fingers slightly inside the waist band of my skirt until I could feel her nails on the skin of my belly. She stayed like that for a while her fingers gently rubbing me inside the skirt gradually pushing it further down until it was stretched tightly across my hips and could go no further. I showed no resistance at all to that, in fact I loved it.

Presumably encouraged, she pushed herself up a little and, looking deep into my eyes, she brought both of her hands to my waist. Smiling, she murmured.

“Perhaps we should get rid of this?”

She undid the brass button and began easing the short zip down at the front of the skirt. Now loose, she slowly pulled my skirt down and I raised my bottom off the bed to help her remove it completely. I felt marvellous lying before her clad merely in my white transparent panties through which I knew my pubic shadow was clearly on view. I guess my latent exhibitionistic side was coming through.

“Oh Cat you are gorgeous” she muttered as her hand, idly almost, trailed across my panties. It may have been an involuntary caress by her but to me the effect was electrifying for, for the first time, the sheer enormity of what I was about to do hit me. And my God did I want it.

Sensing my need, or more to the point as she explained afterwards my total capitulation, she plunged on now totally confident of my intentions and willingness. And quite rightly so.

In the next few hours I experienced so many new things and sensations and came so many times that my recall of it all is fuzzy. The entire lovemaking session that went on well into the night and restarted in the morning seems to have merged into one memory of sheer bliss, amazing tenderness and incredible excitement. It was as though I had one continual orgasm that rose to crescendos, subsided a little and then soared to even higher levels. It was like being on a roller coaster when you go so steeply down or around that you think that it’s impossible for it to go steeper or tighter only for it then immediately to do so. That was precisely the feelings I got with this amazing orgasm.

Emma started this by kneeling beside me and, whilst staring deep into my eyes, she slowly rolled her panties down over her tummy gradually revealing the soft patch of dark down at the base. I found this to be such a turn on that, without thinking but to her evident pleasure, I did the same and pushed my own panties off lifting my bottom from the bed as I did so.

And then we started what was probably the most exciting single sexual escapade that I have ever experienced.

Lying there on the bed totally naked in another woman’s arms was both thrilling and exciting. My mind was reeling from the sexual pleasure and the feeling of adventure, achievement and the crossing of boundaries. I would never have thought having sex with another woman could be like this or could give me such feelings.

The first amazing feeling was being naked in another woman’s arms. The softness and curves of her body against mine was so different to that of a man as was, of course, the absence of the hardness that presses so enticingly into a girl’s stomach. But the gentleness and the knowingness with which she approached me was the most surprising thing. It seemed as though she could anticipate my every need. When I wanted a tender embrace or a soft caress her hands would gently stroke my breasts or softly rub the inside and outside of my lips. As my passion rose and more urgency was required so her arms would hold me tighter, her fingers would press into my flesh, she would pinch my nipples and squeeze joyously, painfully the softness of my boobs. As I needed relief from the wonderful torment of feelings she built up in me she knew just the moment to plunge her fingers rigid with penetrative probing deep into my insides.

She knew when to bring me off and when to hold me right on the edge. When to kiss me lovingly and treat me with tenderness and when to be rough and act as though I were her whore. Her technique was perfect, at least in my inexperienced opinion. She touched my clitoris with just the right amount of pressure rubbing alongside it from front to back as opposed to right on top as most men do. She stroked me around the outside of my lips rather than poking her fingers roughly inside thus giving me so much more pleasure than normally received from a man’s, inevitable but nonetheless, unfortunate fumblings. And she knew just when I was ready to move from one stage of lesbian lovemaking to the next.

Our earlier efforts, needed though they had been to initiate me, palled into insignificance against that we moved onto during that most fantastic first night of my bisexual life style.

Emma loved all, and I do mean all, of my body in ways that it had never been loved before and ways that I hardly even imagined existed. There didn’t seem to be any part of me that she didn’t touch and caress and from which both she and I didn’t gain sexual pleasure. From stroking my hair and touching my eyebrows, eyelashes and eyelids to rubbing the soles of my feet. From caressing the crown of my head and stroking my neck gently, to massaging my calf and buttock muscles. She rubbed her body against mine and dangled her nipples against my breasts. Her pubis mound was ground against mine and the lips of her pussy were pressed against the cheeks of my bottom. She intertwined her legs with mine so that the lips were pressed together and she ran her erect and hardened nipple up and down my soaked, pink crack

She used her mouth on me so wonderfully it was though I had never been orally loved before, but then I hadn’t by a woman. Again she just seemed to know when I wanted gentleness and when I needed more urgency. When it was appropriate to drive her tongue inside me and when gently lapping motions around the outside were what I needed. She used her lips, teeth, tongue and mouth on every part of me. My face, chest, breasts, tummy and legs. And of course between my legs but not concentrated just on the front entrance. Equally adept at arousing incredible sensations from my labia and vulva as she was at stimulating my anus she loved me everywhere. Her magical mouth visited me my clit, my cunt and my arse and each of them received it with such unrestrained joy and pleasure. They each revelled in being initiated into girly sex.

Responding to her, following her lead and returning some of the wonderful favours she had bestowed on me just seemed so natural and necessary and I wanted to do it. Her nipples in my mouth, my tongue licking her breasts and chewing the rubbery tips, my fingers finding and lovingly stroking her velvety wetness. Slipping them in and running them around the moistened, pink slash between her legs. Anointing and arousing her clitoris. All these actions I did without being asked, I did them because I wanted to and because they seemed to be the right things to do. I did them with enormous pleasure and gratitude and I revelled in the fulsome response I gained from her.

When her parted legs with her most womanly of places so beautifully on view was right before my eyes it seemed just the most perfectly natural thing in the world to kiss it. I did. The taste and smell of another woman was like an aphrodisiac and encouraged me to plunge on lapping at this incredible fountain of sexuality. I gobbled greedily, I imagine, as second by second I became bolder, gained new sensations and received new experiences. The feel of her lips on my tongue, the squirming of her body as I pleasured her, the sensation of my mouth engulfing her clitoris and sucking it into my teeth as she had done to me were new, powerful and wonderful experiences, and seemed so natural.

When I made her cum I felt incredible. I revelled in the writhing of her body, the gritted teeth, the tightly closed eyes, the panting, the gasping and the gripping of my hair, my hands, my breasts or the bedclothes . I gloried in cuddling her as she roared up to a wonderful crescendo of feelings. I felt such tenderness and love as I held her close as she soared over the peak and settled into that wonderfully warm time of immediate post orgasm, a feeling in women that no man seems to understand.

How often we dozed off only to wake again and resume I have no idea. How many times we made love and how many times each of us climaxed is an equal mystery. All I know is that it was light and the birds were singing when we finally slept in each others arms bringing my first night as a bisexual woman to a wonderful and totally satisfying end. I had found my new world.