I’ve been attracted to women my whole life, but I was married for two years before I worked up the bravery to admit it to my husband. He was initially terrified. And then as it sunk in that this was a part of me I couldn’t change and that it had not stopped me from marrying with whole heartedly, he began to accept my bisexuality.
He has waffled back and forth since then about whether he would be ok with my exploring this side of my sexuality. Initially, he thought nothing could be sexier and then he feared it would make me less attracted to him. Worse yet, he feared I would decide I was never into men at all, that I wanted to move on from men all together.
But as my friendship with L progressed, becoming flirty, then touchy, then even more flirty, I knew there was a chance it could be more. I knew she was hinting, wanting. As we spoke about it more and more, M knew there was mutual attraction, was still scared, but gave me a tentative go-ahead.
It was my birthday, and L had taken me out for drinks. I was loosening up and becoming more comfortable. Then we decided to head home. She was driving and she lingered by the passenger side. When she got in the car she blurted, “Don’t judge me, but I was going to kiss you just then.”
I laughed, “You’re a terrible influence.” And we drove in silence. I was becoming more aroused by the minute, thinking of the idea that it could actually have just happened, I felt myself becoming warm and moist.
“Pull over,” I demanded.
“Get into a parking lot. NOW.”
I grabbed her face as the car was in park. It took a moment for me to acclimate to someone’s kiss that wasn’t M’s. My hands wandered, cupping her breasts, massaging her legs, running through her hair. I couldn’t believe how immediately passionate it was, compared to my other make out sessions in my life.
She demanded I remove my bra and I pulled my dress down for her to reach my breasts. “They’re amazing.” With incredible skill, she found the pressure I craved, playing with one nipple while sucking on the other expertly. My back arched.
“How far are you willing to go?” she asked, looking up from my breasts.
I didn’t answer, panicking. Instead, I instructed her, “Lay back.”
I began massaging her breasts, then licking each nipple. I rolled them in my fingers, gently back and forth. Then I began to suck on them gently.
Her moans were dizzying, she sounded a moment from coming. “Harder,” she demanded. And it was a joy to comply.
We played like this, in a dark supermarket parking lot, for over an hour, going no further. Lacking a space and spousal approval, we replaced our bras and returned to our respective partners. She came inside to hug my husband when she dropped me off.
As she hugged me goodbye, she gently caressed the side of my breast.