and so it began…
“Aaaaaah, oh God, oh, oh………my voice screamed into the dark of my bedroom, my breathing and gasps coming in quick, hard, rhythmic pulses. Slowly, making the moment last as long as I could, my fingers withdrew from between my legs, my juices glistening on them in the dim light sneaking through my closed blinds and curtains from the street lamp outside of my condo.
I lay there, my breathing coming under control now, my naked body wet with the perspiration of satisfying masturbation; yet, another masturbation, taking care of my own damned needs again, I thought, as my fingers played with my soft pubes, wet from my excitement.
Sleep washed over me soon, a slight smile on my lips from sucking my climax from my fingers.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Betty said to me when I reached my office the next morning, “any news?”
The ‘news’ would be whether or not I had become, yet again, an aunt to the newest niece, or nephew, to be born to one of my prolific, propagating sisters.
“Nope, nothing yet, Betts” I replied taking off my winter coat, the chill of the outside air still fresh in my cheeks and on the tip of my nose.
“Well, I’m sure it won’t be long,” smiling at me and turning to answer her phone.
My parents wanted lots of grandchildren and my two sisters were doing their damndest to give them just that, popping out kids every couple of years for the last six years. Mom and Dad had long given up on me, their oldest, of ever having kids. Whenever the subject was raised about whether or not my latest beau was ‘the one’, my responses generally indicated that, I wasn’t as serious about whoever the beau was as they would have liked me to be.
My latest boyfriend had departed my life a few months back and that was okay; I missed the steady sex, sort of, not that it was that great, but really not much else. He asked me to marry him and I turned down the offer, not seeing me spending the rest of my life as his ‘wifey’, to use his words.
So once again, I was ‘between’ beaus, and at Thirty, I was just peachy-fucking-fine with my current status. I could have men; they came on to me a lot, but I was picky. Picky? Hell, I was damned choosy, latching on to a guy as a steady only when I felt the need to resume regular fucking again. I was attractive, I knew it, but I didn’t really flaunt it like most gals would have done that had my looks and body. I know that sounds very conceited and egotistical but its not meant to be, it’s just that I knew that men liked me a lot ever since I blossomed into womanhood at sixteen or so.
So, I had beaus whenever I wanted to but I didn’t have that ‘burning fire in my belly’ to marry and propagate the species. I just didn’t, and I seemed to be the only in my family to accept that fact.
“Lynn, are you sure you’re not a lesbo?” my sister, Jan, asked one night when I was visiting and had helped her get the kids ready for bed. Her nose wrinkled in distaste when she said the word.
“Screw you, Jan, I’ve probably had more dick than you’ll ever see,” I angrily said back to her. I was sure, in my head, that my prim and proper sister fucked only to make kids, her geeky husband not being a world-beater as far being ‘hot’ was concerned. But, that was her problem, not mine; as far as I was concerned, I didn’t have a problem.
To say my familial relationships, most times, is contentious, is an understatement of great magnitude.
“Goodnight, Betts, see you on Monday,” I said as we parted outside of our building.
“Goodnight, Lynn, have a good weekend,” she replied, waving as she turned into the wind howling between the canyons of downtown office buildings. Bending against the cold, I clutched my overcoat and rushed to O’Malley’s, a favorite after-work cocktail spot for the men and women of downtown.
Taking a seat at the bar, Cherie had my cocktail in front of me before my coat was off of my shoulders. Thanking her, I tipped my glass towards her in a silent toast, and let the single-malt scotch burn away the chill as it went down smoothly. Cherie winked at me as she went to serve another customer.
“Is this seat taken?” I heard from my right, and turning, I was hit by the ‘thunderbolt’ as my Sicilian ancestors would say. A tall brunette, five-ten? I quickly guessed, with eyes so blue they made balçova escort Paul Newman’s baby-blues look gray.
“Not as far as I know,” extending my hand in greeting, introducing myself as I did so. Wondering to myself why the hell I did that, she accepted my hand; her skin warm and soft, almost silk-like.
“Very nice to meet you, Lynn,” she said to me, “I’m Brianna but I prefer Brie,” settling onto the vacant stool. I signaled to Cherie, asking Brie what she was having.
“A Cosmo seems about right,” her smile as bright as a floodlight in the night. Great teeth, I thought to myself, as I smiled back. “Cherie makes the best Cosmos in the city,” I said as Cherie walked up to our spot at the bar, “Don’t you, girlfriend?” winking at Cherie. Cherie smiled in acceptance of my compliment.
“Girlfriend?” Brie said with a quizzical look, “Are you two an item?” Cherie and I laughed at the same time, and getting a hold of herself before I did, Cherie said, “No, though if we were, I probably wouldn’t have all those kids running around at home,” chuckling to herself as she attended to Brie’s Cosmo.
Brie stammered an apology to the both of us for saying that, the both of us telling her to blow it off, it was no big deal.
Visibly relaxing, Brie and I exchanged brief bios of who we were and how we came to be where we were in life and all. She was older than me by ten years or so, I surmised and very pleasing to the eye. She was a lawyer for a Fortune 500 Corporation, her offices in the same building as O’Malley’s.
“Well, that makes it convenient for after-work cocktails,” I joked. She laughed along with me but offered that she rarely stops in here for a drink, preferring her loft apartment and its comforts and homey feel. Leaning towards my ear conspiratorially, she said, sotto-voiced, “Actually my preferred method on relaxing after work is with a glass of wine and cannabis delecti” giggling just a bit.
I leaned back, smiling at her, and held up a hand for a high-five which she acknowledged with a slap. “My kind of woman,” I observed still smiling, her smile still radiant as she looked at me.
The time flew and Cherie kept our drinks full, both of us discovering a lot of similar likes and dislikes, as well as sardonic humor. When she asked of a husband or boyfriend in my life, I told her that I was without either at the moment but that was just fine with me. “Don’t get me wrong, they have their uses, but after they lose their erection I don’t find a driving need to have one around,” laughing as I said it. “My last two beaus were all hot to trot to get married and all that, but that didn’t appeal to me in the least,” I concluded, looking at her as I supported my head with a hand as I leaned on my elbow on the bar.
She was looking down at the stemmed glass she was twirling between her hands, a small smile on her lips, and looking up to me, softly said, “I certainly hear that, girlfriend. As for me, I just don’t bother with men anymore, too much of a pain in the ass,” laughing afterwards. Downing the last of her Cosmo, she stood to put on her winter coat, her suit coat opening to reveal a silk blouse, the top three buttons undone, her cleavage showing a sparse sprinkling of freckles on the tops of her breasts. Frankly I was staring at her bosom, as rude as it sounds. She noticed it, of course, but just smiled and said, “Thanks for the compliment.” Yeah, I didn’t blush much-not!
Reaching into her purse, she handed me her card, asking if I had plans for the weekend. Taking the card from her, I fished around in my own purse and returned the courtesy by giving her my own; answering her question, I told her nothing was going on with me that weekend.
“Good, neither do I,” she said, “Would you have dinner with me tomorrow evening at my place?” Not even pausing a second, I said, “I’d love to, what time?” And the time was set, directions were given and giving me a peck on the cheek, she walked out into the night.
I drove from the parking garage to my condo, attended to mail and phone messages, and stepped into my shower. I finished the hot shower by getting myself off; the mind-image was of Brie’s freckled cleavage and I don’t fucking know why.
“A slight change of plans, Lynn” I heard the voice say into my ear when I answered the karşıyaka escort phone; realizing it was Brie’s voice, my heart sank a bit thinking she was cancelling our dinner. But that wasn’t it at all.
It was nine in the morning and I was still in bed, awake the last half-hour trying to figure out why I masturbated, last night, thinking of Brie’s boobs and Damnit if I didn’t do it again, just finishing when the phone rang.
“There’s an ‘art-walk’ going on downtown that I’d like to see and was wondering if you’d like to join me,” she explained. Sounded good to me, I told her, and made arrangements to pick her up in front of her building at noon. Hanging up, I decided that I had to boogie-boogie to make it on time.
The downtown ‘art walk’ was actually held inside of the dozens of inter-building walkways that connected virtually all of the business center of downtown. It was winter and too damned cold to be held outside but thankfully these pedestrian tubes made walking downtown, in the winter, an indoor exercise. I used a parking garage near the start of the art walk and we had a lovely afternoon, getting to know each other better, sharing laughs and a couple of glasses of wine along the ‘tour’ route. Toward the end of the walking show, Brie put her arm through mine and asked if I was ready to head back to her place. Turning my head when I said that I was, she smiled and fucking kissed me on the lips, a short, kiss but one that kept my lips on fire during the ride back to her place.
What the hell was going on with me, I thought, as we rode to her place, both lost in our thoughts. Why did this woman fascinate me so much? I’ve never been that ‘way’ with a female in my life; that time in college with my suitemate didn’t count since we were both drunk and all we did was kiss a bit. Okay, maybe a bit of fondling also, but we were both drunk, for God’s sake!
Ushering me into her spacious loft, Brie tossed her coat onto a chair near the door and I followed suit. I wore slacks with a matching sweater that complimented my 34C’s very well. I did notice her take note of that fact when my coat came off, and for reasons unknown to me then, I felt a bit glad that she liked what she saw.
Her living spaces were tastefully and artfully laid out; her sleeping space in a corner of the loft was very large, elevated about eight feet from the main floor on large, wooden upright beams; there was still another ten feet or so to the top of the loft on top of her sleeping space. The space underneath her bedroom was her office/computer space. Her ‘bedroom’ was completely open and included a large, walk-in closet and a small bathroom. The shower and other bathroom were downstairs on the main level. In the farthest corner from her main entry door sat a hot tub on a small riser platform, the corners being windows, floor to ceiling with drawable drapery now pulled to the sides, letting daylight into the room. She had plenty of floor to ceiling windows and her place was flooded with what sunlight there was on this cold, wintery day.
“What can I do to help with dinner,” I asked as I followed into her kitchen area. “You can open and pour us some wine, if you’d like,” she said, “I’ve prepared everything already and all I have to do is let the oven do the work.” And so I did as asked, while she busied herself doing her thing with dinner. Both of our chores done, she toasted me with a clink of our glasses, and we headed for the conversation pit/living room/TV room area of her loft.
She stopped at a curio cabinet and opening a bottom drawer, she brought out a handsomely carved wooden box, bringing it with her to join me on the couch. As we chatted, comfortably by this point I might add, she nimbly cleaned and rolled a fat joint. Finished with that one, she began a smaller joint explaining that the ‘big boy’ was for after dinner, the small one she said, lighting it and taking a hit, was for now, handing it to me.
Savoring its pungy taste and odor as I drew it deep into my lungs, all I could say as I handed it back to her was “Wow!” She smiled, and nodded her acceptance of my compliment of her herb.
We sipped wine, finished the ‘wee boy’, the combination of wine and herb, mellowing us very nicely, thank you very fucking much. The oven dinged, we çeşme escort set the table and enjoyed a leisurely dinner, filling but not too much so. I ignored her protests and helped her clean away our dishes and such, and in a half-hour or so, we were done, the dishwasher turned on and put to work now.
Night had fallen and from her top-floor loft we looked upon the city lights, bright and numerous below us. There were taller buildings in the city, of course, but not near her loft; her building was the tallest around for several blocks by a couple of stories. The view was spectacular and mesmerizing and I told her so.
“Thanks, it wasn’t cheap, but I’m worth it,” mockingly, and leaning into me for support. I leaned back, finding the feel of her breast against my arm, I don’t know, comforting?
Her arm came around my shoulder, holding me to her. I stiffened for a millisecond but her breast pressing hard against my arm helped me relax. I don’t know why. Right about then, my head was so full of conflicting signals, that I’m not sure I could have told anyone my name.
It was a woman’s breast that was exciting you.
But, I’m not ‘queer’.
You masturbated thinking of her freckled cleavage.
But, I’ve masturbated thinking about ‘Ken and Barbie’ fucking.
You masturbated thinking of her freckled cleavage, for fucking sake!
I did, didn’t I?
“Brie, I’d better go while I still can,” I said, but did not feel.
“Oh no missy,” Brie said, “you have to help me finish that ‘fat boy’ I rolled.”
“Brie, if I smoke anymore, on top of the wine, I definitely won’t be in shape to drive,” I said, wishing it weren’t so.
“You don’t have to go, you know, you can spend the night,” She said to me, still hugging me softly to her, our breathing suddenly in synch. “I frequently entertain overnight guests. We can make accommodations,” She said, softly.
My stomach was doing flip-flops.
You know why.
Because your sister thinks you’re a fucking ‘lesbo’.
It was one fucking time and we were fucking drunk and my sister doesn’t know about it anyway!
“Are you sure?”
“I’m very sure, Lynn” Brie said, “Now let’s relax and fire up ‘Mr. Big’.”
“Definitely not my last beau,” laughing, which caused Brie to laugh with me, her other arm wrapping around me, holding me, so I wouldn’t fall to the floor.
And then she kissed me. I didn’t move back. I didn’t close my eyes. And when she pulled back to gauge my reaction, I smiled. I fucking smiled like an idiot. Walking away from me towards the couch, she said, “You’ve got soft lips, very soft lips, Lynn.”
“Thanks? I think?” I said a bit confused by my own feelings. She laughed good-naturedly and patted a spot on the couch next to her as she picked up the fat joint, lighting it and passing it to me. I handed it back and before she took her turn, she asked if I’d like for her to ‘shotgun’ me.
She took a hit, putting the doob in the ashtray, and placed her hands on the side of my head, drawing me to her. Her lips were on mine, my mouth opening enough for her to slowly blow the smoke into my mouth. Still holding my face in her hands, the ‘shotgun’ evolved into a kiss, what little smoke there was left, drifted from our lips as the kiss intensified. My mouth was enjoying what it was feeling, a familiar warmth growing in my crotch.
It took only the slightest pressure from her for me to lean into the back of the couch, the soft leather sinking slowly beneath our weight. I felt her hand lightly on my breast over my sweater, my nipples beginning to stir.
Pulling away, her fingers moved my hair from my eyes, she said, “Mmmm, but that felt nice, at least to me.”
“Me too,” I responded, “but you need to know that I’m in uncharted waters here. I’ve never made love with a woman before and unless I miss my guess, that’s on the agenda tonight,” the fingers of my hand stroking the side of her face.
“What’s on the agenda tonight,” kissing the side of my face and neck between words, “is for two new friends to enjoy the moment, and to let the magic of the moment take us where it will,” Brie said, still placing small kisses on my neck, her hand now softly caressing my breast.
And yes! It did feel good.
“The question for you, sweetheart, is whether or not your gut instinct is telling you that I can be trusted to take you only as far as you want to go. That’s the question, Lynn, do you trust me?”
Decision time, Lynn Marie, will it be door number one, two, or three?
continued in part 2…