I am a 60+ year old bi woman. Many of my stories, originate in memories and recent events of my life. All contain a combination of real and fictional characters with names changed as appropriate to protect the guilty. They are memoirs spiced with a kinky imagination. I am submissive by natural inclination in most relationships, most often extremely submissive in sex.
If you like kinky mature women I hope you will enjoy my stories and comment on what you liked and perhaps didn’t like to help me improve. I sometimes, to better frame the scene, include passages from stories I have previously published here on Literotica.
In this series I write as Doris Sweeney a White, widowed, bisexual, 53 year old woman.
*
My part time job in the sales/leasing office at OFH has made my social life interesting. I met Ron when he first looked at homes here as a place to move to in retirement. Months went by and one day he showed up at my office as a new resident. He bought one of the model homes about three months before without me knowing. We sat and talked about life at OFH and eventually he asked me to join him for dinner. There was something about him, something that didn’t quite fit my expectations for an attractive retired man. A little too well groomed, a little too neatly dressed, a little too polite? It was not any one thing but a combination. Oh well, I’ll figure it out, I’ll figure him out.
“Your choice” he said, so three days later we headed to my favorite Italian restaurant. Ron began his story at dinner and it continued in my living room over a dessert wine. I told Ron about my life before I moved to OFH and my family but avoided the subject of Val and any obvious discussion of sex. (Read about Val in OFH part 1 — 3) Ron explained that he and his wife owned their own business and never had children. His wife died in an automobile accident when she was forty-five. He dated over the years but never remarried.
As we talked we discovered that we both enjoy writing, Ron is actually a published author. For both of us what started as a casual interest and a way to record memoirs became more important and a way to interact socially with people of similar interests. Ron suggested it was also a way to vent unfulfilled fantasies. I bit my tongue and did not elaborate on my own leanings toward fantasy and erotica.
In the end, however, I couldn’t resist a tease, “Why Ron, what do you mean fantasies? Do you mean adventures or travel?”
He did not answer directly but offered, “I have always belonged to writers groups and also enjoyed meeting other writers as much as I enjoy writing.” He continued, “Doris, maybe we could start a writers group here at OFH.” I allowed my original question to go unanswered.
We agreed to give it some thought and then discuss it again at dinner the following Friday. He suggested that if we form a group we might ask people to write a story based on a prompt like writers workshops sometimes do. We agreed to be our own writers group guinea pigs when we decided on a first prompt, his suggestion, “Write about something you greatly regret.”
We left the conversation agreeing that we had two weeks and only two weeks to finish the story and we would then meet again to discuss the stories and the writers grouped . In the meantime I sent out a “Writers Group Being Formed” notice to OFH residents to see if there was any interest.
I almost immediately heard back from Lynn, a woman I met when she first moved in, and Olivia a new unknown woman and George a retired school teacher, also new to OFH.
My contribution to this Ron and Doris only first exchange was a difficult choice. I did not particularly want to reveal personal information quite yet so I decided to write the story as fiction.
Sure it was a twist on the prompt but call it writers prerogative. After that decision the story itself was simply and adaptation and consolidation of other stories I had already written.
REGRETS – a work of fiction.
Sara’s middle child, her only daughter El, caught her looking at another woman, a stranger, in a coffee shop. She asked if Sara was checking the woman out. Sara answered, “Of course not, El. Don’t be silly. Well maybe, what about it? She was very attractive don’t you think?”
El then asked, “Mom, tell the truth, have you ever?”
This conversation was awkward because El, now twenty-two came out as a lesbian in high school. She could tell…they can tell.
Sara answered honestly. “No I have not, the opportunity never presented itself, and to tell you the truth I do not know what I would have done if it did. What would your father have thought?”
El just smiled and said, “I knew it, I knew it by how you looked at her.”
When we returned home El wouldn’t let it go and asked, “Mom, would you try the ‘soft side of sex’ with a woman if it were possible?”
The answer was of course simple, “It’s never going to happen, baby. No one would be interested in me that way, certainly not at my age.”
El came very close and said in a soft voice, “Mom, stop the bull shit excuses, I’m standing right here and I’m interested.”
El very deliberately put her face, her lips, inches from Sara’s and taunted, “Well would you?”
“El stop, I’m your mother!”
Sara never should have but she did. It was wrong but she surrendered to a long suppressed urge and with El’s lips open slightly and only an inch away Sara leaned in and initiated the first kiss.
Sara admitted her first experience with the ‘soft side of sex’ was everything she had imagined. That afternoon with her daughter was something she would always deeply regret only because she was her daughter but at the same time Sara was grateful for the door it opened.
Ron’s contribution was surprising. He offered, if his story was true, a window into himself.
REGRETS — a simple perspective.
Long before I retired and after my wife died I met a new friend, Bill while volunteering for a local charity. Bill, in his mid 60s, had also not yet retired. Bill is of course not his real name.
Bill and I talked about where we were from and all the usual new acquaintance conversation and found out we both loved football. He was also a widower so we had that in common as well. Another new person in my life, a neighbor and perhaps eventually a friend.
After talking a few times over the following weeks, Bill invited me to his home to watch a game.
I brought beer and Bill had bought chicken wings and other snacks. The pre-game show would be on shortly and as Bill left the room to get food he first turned on the TV. He had apparently left his DVD player set up from a movie because as the television came on so did the movie. Bill had been watching porn.
He hurried back to turn off the DVD player all the while apologizing. I of course let him off with a comment about how it was no big deal. I went a little overboard by bragging that I watched similar shows all the time. Just two guys, each trying to out do the other.
Bill bragged about his collection and asked if I would like to watch one before the game. Before I could answer he restarted the video. I went along not thinking much of it.
The video was of two men with a woman but it was not the two men on one woman video I expected. It was pretty clearly a couple with a guy. The men were doing much more than having sex with her. They were touching and kissing each other as well. Seeing that made me feel uneasy. Yes, I had imagined, or maybe even seen in porn, one guy sucking another but the thought of them kissing and caressing each other as lovers left me uneasy and questioning what Bill might be really like. He was sitting next to me on the couch and he was without realizing it rubbing the front of his shorts. Without looking at me he was telling me how when his wife was alive they often had threesome parties with both other men and women.
He asked if I had ever experienced a threesome. I of course told him I had not, my wife would never have gone along with that. I hinted that I might do it if the opportunity came about and I think he caught that. Now I could see that he was getting hard as he continued to touch himself thru the fabric of his shorts.
I watched as he unzipped his shorts and freed his cock. It was embarrassingly bigger than mine. He looked at my pants and saw that I was not hard or even trying to rub myself.
I just looked at him. It was not even fully erect yet but it was the longest thickest cock I had ever seen and I couldn’t stop staring.
I saw him smile as he asked if I wanted to touch it. Without waiting for a reply he took my hand and put it around his shaft. I did not resist, I did not want to resist. It was initially soft and warm to my touch but as I moved my hand it got very hard very quickly . Bill was uncut. He squeezed my hand tight and pulled the foreskin down around the glands of his almost purple cock head. I was not fully aware I was doing it unassisted but I looked at my own hand moving up and down the length. I watched as droplets formed at the slit. I was embarrassed that I was wondering what they tasted like.
I was getting hard myself but Bill was so much harder and bigger than I ever get. Suddenly his pants were gone and he was standing in front of me and he put my other hand was between his legs cupping his balls. They too were so much bigger than mine and I found I wanted to touch them, squeeze them. Bill had long soft black hair everywhere, even his scrotum was covered.
The head of his cock as only inches from my face. The droplets of pre cum were rolling off onto my arm. I heard the words almost as though they were spoken in the movie still playing on the TV, “Kiss it. You want to. Kiss it.” He had moved my hand from his cock to his ass cheek and was leaning in putting the head almost against my lips. He never did force me. In the end it was my decision, actually it just happened. I opened my mouth as wide as I could, leaned forward, and he was in my mouth. Well, the head was in my mouth. My tongue seemed to be in the way. There was a slight smell of pee and an acid taste. I did not gag. Weren’t you supposed to gag?
He sensed I think, the panic I was feeling. He did not push himself further into my mouth but was instead stroking that part of him that was not in my mouth. There were no squirts, no spurts of hot cum. The only sign was that his knees gave way and bent slightly and he put his hand on my shoulder to steady himself. My mouth was filling and I had to swallow repeatedly to keep up with the flow of hot cum. I remember the taste was a little salty.
The football game came on, he pulled his shorts back on, and we pretended nothing unusual had just happened.
This was my first experience with another man. Did I regret it? Yes very much initially. I was embarrassed that I had submitted so willingly. Did I experience giving oral sex again? Yes, often, with him and other men.
Ron and I exchanged stories by email and without yet discussing them we made a date to talk about starting the writers group. Saturday came. I had not yet read his story and I was thinking about him as I showered. To shave or not to shave? Will he get lucky? Will I get lucky? Do I want him to get lucky? Does he want to get lucky? Was I too old? Was I too fat? Can he get it up? It amazes me how, at 63, I turn into a teenage girl at the prospect of a new sex partner.
But sadly, especially after having read his story there was no chemistry. I discovered something about myself, reading about and thinking about gay male sex was not a turn on. I had been married for years to a big hairy always horney, grabby man and it was a huge turn on when we had sex. I loved it when he patted my behind and called me babe and made me willingly submit to his lust. I had more recently experienced the ‘soft side of sex’ with another woman and that as well was a new thrill. But, honestly, Ron’s story about his first guy on guy sex left me………
I thought it would be fun to bring him flowers and perhaps a bottle of wine so I bought both. When I arrived he greeted me at the door dressed in jeans a white tee shirt and an Emeril Lagasse apron. I remember he was barefoot. I found that curious but he explained later how he was always barefoot or in stocking feet in the house.
I had on a pair of black tights. I sometimes wear them just because frankly, they complement and show off my butt. I was also wearing an oversize starched white mens dress shirt I sometimes wear because frankly it hangs low enough to minimize my big ass. I kicked my shoes off put on the apron he handed me and joined him barefoot in the kitchen.
Ron thanked me for the flowers and the wine. He told me I was the second person ever to give him flowers. He kissed me lightly on the cheek. I would later learn the first person to give him flowers was his wife on his 50th birthday. When he kissed me I put my hand on his upper arm and noticed for the first time how muscular he was. With that one touch something changed. Was it just touching him? His obvious masculinity? Was it chemistry?
As he kissed me on the cheek I touched his face and kissed him ever so gently on the lips.
We cooked, we laughed, we talked, I had a great time. In an hour or two he had become a man I seemingly had known forever. A good friend. As I looked at him across the table I saw the laugh lines of a man who had laughed often and hard. I saw the worry lines in his brow of a man who had suffered. I saw in his gray hair and beard a person who had aged into a very handsome man any woman would want. I found my mind wondering if he had gray hair everywhere? He did. Chemistry?
After dinner over wine we sat on his couch and talked. It had been a wonderful evening and I felt happy I was with him.
As we talked about our past lives I learned about his wife and how she died five years ago and I mentioned my husband and how he as well went too soon.
At the mention of my husband the conversation slowed and Ron became more serious, like he was trying to ask a question and could not find the words. I could see he was choosing his words very carefully. He wanted to ask but couldn’t. Maybe, just maybe he did not want to hear the answer. He told me he had had a great time blah blah and I stopped him.
I told him: “Look, I don’t pretend to know what you are thinking but I am not a lesbian. Like you, I am bisexual, and became aware of it after my husband died. Val and I were together here at OFH for only a year and that is probably what you heard about.” I finished, “If that does not work for you, I understand.”
I waited. He said nothing. A minute?
He took my hands and kissed me, gently but more than just a casual kiss. I don’t know why I did this but I took his hand and lead him into his bedroom. I took off his clothes and then mine and we laid in bed touching each other and kissing initially without any real intention of making love. But Ron’s erection was not to be ignored. I saw him put on a condom and I climbed up onto him and guided him into me with my hand. I saw he was going to cum and I reached behind, felt his balls spasm slightly and he moaned. The writers group ended before it started and friends only with Ron was a real long term option for me. We still see each other and yes we sleep together now and then.
I did not really regret my brief incest with my daughter, my time with Val here at OFH, and the one or two night flings since Val. They had shown me that I should have acted years sooner on my long suppressed need for the soft side of sex.
Lynn
It would be good I think to remind you dear reader of my last interaction with Lynn. (You can read about it in more detail in OFH part 3.)
When she first approached me here at OFH it was clear that Lynn was looking for an escape. An escape from her life alone but right now an escape from her son. I could only really help her with one of those.
“Lynn, if you want you can stay here for a while. I have a guest room with its own bathroom you can use and a tooth brush for tonight. You don’t owe me anything. I have no ‘expectations.’ Tomorrow we will go together to get more of your things and visit my lawyer who can help you tell your son it’s over.”
Lynn just looked at me and said, “Do you have a tee shirt I can borrow for tonight?”
Two weeks later we were standing in the kitchen making supper and talking about where we should go from here. Lynn had just told me that she met with her son that very afternoon and the problem was solved. “Whatever your lawyer did convinced him that he needed to back off and leave me alone.” So at least I now knew the one thousand dollars I had paid him was well spent.
Lynn asked how much the legal help cost and I told her the truth. She reached into her bag, took out her checkbook and wrote a check.
I asked her, “So I guess this means you will be moving out?”
Lynn smiled a genuinely warm smile and said, “I guess I could, but who will you then cook with and laugh with late at night?”
A little confused I asked, “You want to stay? A while longer?”
Lynn took my hand and led me into the kitchen where we sat and talked as we always did in the kitchen. She mentioned that she was rather fond of how I got up late at night and made a cup of tea. I asked her how she knew that. “Tea cup in the sink in the morning and you blocking the hall light shining under my door late at night as you went to the kitchen.” She asked me if I noticed that she had been leaving her door partially open the past few nights. I had but thought nothing of it.
Then I realized what she had done and asked her, “Lynn, tell me the truth, did you know I was standing outside your door listening?”
She squeezed my hand and said, “Do you really think I always talk dirty to myself when I masturbate?” “Did you enjoy the show?” She laughed.
I looked at her and smiling said, “Why you sneaky little… You know you made me wet don’t you?”
Her eyes were smiling when she said, “I was hoping you would come in and see not just hear the show.”
In my bedroom we kissed as though we had all the time in the world. We took each other’s clothing off savoring and kissing each body part revealed. Her breasts were in fact magnificent. Perfectly round with small, maybe the size of a quarter dollar pink areola with dozens of small bumps appearing as I licked them and sucked her nipples. As my hand went down her abdomen it found light soft hair just on her mons but not a single hair on or around her labia or butt. My labia as I age is thinning and darkening somewhat. Lynn’s were still a large thick pink rose. Before the night was over my fingers and tongue explored every fold and dimension of her perfect vagina and found her pearl hidden in the folds. She moaned as I licked her lying to me by saying that no one had ever…. Lynn it seems lies a lot.
We made soft gentle love, pleasing each other with our lips and hands until early morning and fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Now back to the writers group.
I had not seen or really talked to Lynn for more than two months when I called both her and Olivia and asked them that things had changed and asked if they would like to join a women only writers group. I was honest with both of them. There was only the three of us so far. Just like that, like the Queen of OFH, I cut the men out of the group.
My thought that we could write about a subject chosen by one of us on a rotating basis and meet every few weeks. Scheduling our initial meeting was delayed because Olivia had travel plans but Lynn was was able to visit me at my home the following Monday evening.
Lynn came with stories, lots of stories, and a confession. She told me that for years she and her husband wrote stories for each other to spice up their sex life. At first it was a pretty easy way to tell each other what they wanted in their own bedroom play. She told me that over time for both of them it became much more and often involved real and fictitious other people. Then unpredictably, she wrote a story about the two of them having a threesome with her best friend Stacy. The story was one of her most extreme and involved him having anal sex with Stacy, something he often said he wanted but she said she would never allow.
The night they read the story in bed he asked her if she had reconsidered and was hinting. She smiled and told him that Stacy and her husband do it all the time and Stacy likes it. She handed him a small tube of KY and a lubed condom and a first failed attempt soon went in the history books.
She wasn’t really sure, she was too nervous, too tight, couldn’t relax, it hurt too much, worried she was not clean enough. He was too nervous, and consequently not hard enough. As they had the good sense to laugh about the failed attempt he changed the subject slightly and asked if she was serious about bringing Stacy to their bed, into their sex life.
Lots of silence followed the question, no direct answers but lots of silence and finally, “let me think about it and maybe talk to her, maybe.”
I’ll get back to Stacy in a moment but first, if you recall I mentioned that Lynn came to my house with lots of stories AND a confession. The stories they wrote for each other and her confession are linked. It seems that months ago when she asked me to help her extricate herself from an incestuous affair with her son the affair was not something that just happened. It started with a story her husband wrote. It was all laid out in the story but it had spiraled out of control.
Well now the truth was finally out. What happened between her and her son was simply Lynn acting out a story her husband had written obviously, long before he died. The recollection she told me about now was very different than what she said months before.
“The original story as written by my husband involved me masturbating in the bathtub and being caught in the act by my step son, our oldest. My husband knew from a story I had written that I had seen him naked and was amazed at how gifted he was. My husband in his story simply took what I had openly fantasized about and made it happen in story form. Long after he died I reread all the stories and decided to try and make some really happen.”
Lynn continued, “The bathtub story seemed easy enough if I had the nerve to see it through. Now if I was thinking clearly I never would have dared. My step son, now married was visiting to help me file my taxes. He was out when I returned from some grocery shopping so I set the stage. The only real tub in our house is the guest bath, the one he was using. The master bath had been converted long ago into a walk-in shower.”
She paused for a moment seeming to have second thoughts about telling me but continued, “A little music, a glass of wine an open door and just enough bubble bath to be credible without blocking the view. My husband’s story spelled it all out. After his death masturbation was my new best friend so that part was easy and I had actually lost myself in the pleasure when my stepson walked in.”
Then it all flooded out, “I was so close, I knew that I could bring the orgasm to the surface by pinching my nipples, I did and I exploded. I have never been quiet in sex and as the orgasm swept over me I was my usual self and moaned rather loudly.”
The story continued, “Right after I screamed, even before I could come down from my orgasm, I open my eyes and he was in the bathroom watching me. That was the plan of course but I had actually not heard him come in so seeing him surprised me and I instinctively tried to cover up, no acting was necessary. He turned and without a word left the room. I quickly got out of the tub, dried myself as best I could, threw on my robe and went after him. Now I had to have the nerve to see this through.”
“He was in the den sitting on the couch. As I approached he apologized for intruding in the bath. As planned I kept the moment alive by asking him what he had seen. I knew of course that he had seen everything. He replied that it was nothing, everyone does it. Again as planned I sat down next to him and insisted he tell me what he saw. It was almost as though my husband had foreseen what would happen if I pushed him to talk about sex. He didn’t say anything at first. Then I pushed it. Did you like what you saw? I was way over the line but I put my hand on his leg mid thigh and waited.”
“He just stared at my hand and then spoke.”
“Mom, it’s not a big deal. Everyone does it.” He hesitated then continued, “Two weeks ago I came home early and found Becky (his wife) naked in bed with her electric best friend. It’s not a big deal.”
“I looked at him and said, Becky? But she has you. I knew from the look on his face that I had said the wrong thing.”
He began again, “Look mom, its complicated. There were things that Becky was keeping secret from me and they involve what she has discovered she enjoys that she thought I might not do for her. We talked and it’s ok now.”
“Doris, all the time he was talking his eyes had not moved from my hand on his thigh but now they shifted to my open robe. I realized that this was about to spin out of control but I was too stupid to back away while there was still time. I wanted to know. So I asked him what things could she not tell him.”
Again he hesitated but then said it “Mom, she wanted me to touch, finger and maybe lick her backside but was afraid to ask.”
“Doris, my mouth was in gear before my brain, ‘Oh, I like that too. Lots of women do. Dad did that all the time for me. He even now and then…….’ Fuck that was a really dumb thing to say.”
“I noticed his gaze had shifted away from my hand. I also saw the growing bulge in the front of his shorts. It was my last chance to run, to stop what was about to happen but I didn’t. The story as originally written had me wearing nothing but my robe and almost as though it were playing a role in the story the front of robe had opened as I sat down and he was looking directly at my breasts and below, between my legs.”
“Mom, you don’t shave?”
“Again with my brain slipping my mouth was open, ‘Not in the year since your dad died.'”
“My husband always said that I had perfect breasts. Actually he said tits but you get the idea. They were larger than when I first married because of the children and nursing but still firm at 34B.”
Lynn continued, “He did not hesitate but reached out and put his hand on my breast. I did not expect him to say anything but he did.”
“He was staring at his own hand, a hand now squeezing, fondling my breast and pinching my nipple, “Mom, you have the most fantastic tits!”
“I did not expect ‘Tits’ but it reminded me of his father. His other hand slid down between my legs.”
“Our eyes locked. As one finger then another slipped into me, ‘You’re wet! Mom, you want this?’ ”
“There would be no turning back. I said nothing.”
“I was touching the front of his shorts and he was pulling them off and then his cock was in my hand and he pushed me backward hard onto the carpeted floor. This was not how the story was written. He was forceful, demanding, almost angry.”
“I landed on my butt and back and he was on top of me pushing my knees apart exposing me to his stare and hands. I tried to talk to him but he was in control. His fingers were in my vagina and then my mouth.”
“We were on the floor and he was going down on me but he quickly changed and positioned himself between my legs. I moaned as he entered me but he was long and I thought I felt him hit the wall of my cervix. All the while I was urging him on but he was too big, too long to pound my clitoris and push me to orgasm. I pushed my fingers between us to try and make it happen but there would be no orgasm for me, not tonight. I saw from his breathing that he was close so I told him ‘Cum in me baby, I need you.’ ”
“Later in bed we agreed it could never happen again but he had called me Lynn, not Mom something had changed and he demanded a blow job during the night. Doris, it was not a blow job, he was fucking my face with no regard for my comfort as I gaged and then after three days I came to you Doris, for help. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the entire truth.”
I thanked her for being honest and we drifted off to other subjects. The underlying truth was that I had learned that this woman, Lynn had a very attractive kinky side to her sexuality. We continued to talk. Lynn asked me about my marriage, was I happy, was the sex good? Lots of questions. It soon became clear that what she really wanted to do was tell me about her marriage, her career and her hopes for the future.
I learned a lot. Lynn was a nurse and worked her entire married life. Her husband, she said, moved from job to job after college and his whole life, never really happy with any one career. Consequently he never really advanced or made serious money. He did have great life insurance from his last job and left her very well off but she always resented somewhat that for all of their marriage her earnings paid for virtually everything, their house, their IRA’s, college tuition for the children, everything.
In their last years together she said that just to spite him and boost her self esteem she spent a fortune on plastic surgery, her breasts, her butt, her belly, even her calf’s and neck only to hide it all by dressing like a 1970’s religious missionary.
It was clear, to me at least, that Lynn was looking for an escape. An escape from her life alone. Her stories were part of that escape.
I asked Lynn to tell me about Stacy. She thought for a moment and said, “Doris, I was married for 35 years. I have three children and five grandchildren.”
She stopped talking and I could sense she was trying to decide if she should continue but she did, “About fifteen years ago a very close friend, maybe my best friend, Stacy and I tested the limits, so yes, I have actually done more than think about sex with a woman before you.”
“Our husbands were playing golf and we were watching a movie.” She added, “We had a few glasses of wine and Stacy was sitting right next to me on my couch. I remember she was holding my hand. It was a romantic movie, and I liked that she was holding my hand, it felt warm, secure. Then she stood to get us another glass of wine and she leaned in and kissed me. Just a gentle kiss barely touching my lips, I did not resist but touched her face. Later feeling guilty, I thought that I had encouraged her by touching her face.”
Lynn told me she never knew who really initiated what happened but that initial light kiss became another deeper, more passionate, kiss and they were both willing participants. Eventually they ended up holding each other and touching each other through their clothing. She said Stacy was the aggressor, put her hand in Lynn’s shorts, touched her and fingered her. It ended quickly when they heard a car in the driveway.
Lynn told me, “Stacy didn’t initially talk about it but several weeks later we were alone together again and Stacy brought it up. She asked me if I liked what happened. She told me she loved me I thought nothing of it. That simple question led us to a kiss and back to bed, this time naked in each other’s arms. What did happen, mostly touching and kissing, was wonderful, warm soft and gentle, but it ended too quickly when we were again interrupted. It did not happened again. I never knew why but neither of us tried again.”
Then came the day when Lynn showed Stacy the story, about a threesome. This was long after Lynn’s husband was gone.
Stacy’s response was not at all what she expected. “Lynn, I love you.”
Stacy did not wait for a response but continued, “Baby, we have known each other for what? eight years now? I have watched you struggle to keep your family financially afloat, put the boys through college and I even watched you go through your crazy plastic surgery binge. I laughed with you as you enhanced your body in every way possible and then hid it under the most conservative possible clothing. I saw how timid and genuinely shy you were the two times we were together so I didn’t push it or try again. I love you. It’s not about sex I love you and the woman you are.”
Stacy continued, “I have had a few women in my life that I loved. I have even brought a few women to my bed with my husband, he gets me, he understands me.”
Big deep breath……”If you wanted me to go to bed with you and your hubby I would NOT have done it. Not for him. Not for you! I have never been with another man since I married and nothing will change that. I love you!”
She stopped talking for a moment and thought. “If you showed me this story because you would like to be with my husband and me we can talk about that……….in bed.”
Lynn was honest about Stacy. She was in the end never with her and her husband but she and Stacy were together often and still are.
This was a necessary long conversation between myself and Lynn. Olivia would be gone for two weeks so the writers group was on pause for a while.
I asked Lynn to have dinner with me, “Friday night, my house at 7:00. If you like Italian, I make a great lasagne, you bring a salad, I’ll buy us a bottle.” “Sound good to you?”
Lynn arrived at just a little before 7:00. She did not look like the oh so reserved ‘business suit’ Lynn I met when she first moved in or even the woman who was in my home just last Monday. She is about 5 foot 3 inches, I am taller. She was wearing a white silk top that allowed her nipples to reveal that she was braless. Her top ended above her tight black Spanx pants revealing a ribbon of bare skin and a long floral scroll tattoo on her lower back. Those oh so tight pants barely hid wider than expected hips and a lovely obvious curve to her butt. She also wore tall red heels. Her graying blond hair was in a long braid that hung on her back almost to her waist.
As I poured her a glass of wine she noticed I was barefoot and asked if she could join me. She didn’t wait for an answer but kicked off those heels. Her toe nails were red and accentuated the dark skin tone of her ankles and feet.
As we talked Lynn very quickly got to the point. “Doris, Monday was an important day for me. I was honest with you and let you see the me no one has seen and you did not reject me. Now you tell me the truth. How long really have women been in your life sexually?” “Show me the real Doris!”
I explained that I had spent my entire adult life happily with one man and had been with only one woman before I got married and that was when I first finished college.
As our meal cooked we sat in my kitchen and talked. I explained that long ago before I was married my work took me to a conference where I was sharing a room with a woman my age, a colleague. This was two years after college. The short version of the story has the hotel made a mistake and gave us a single king room instead of two queen beds. We thought nothing of it. Two adult women in a bed big enough for four people…what could go wrong? What could go wrong was an understatement because it did not include the influence of alcohol. In the end we would have been fine with one twin bed. She was experienced and I was not but from the first kiss I knew it was something I wanted. I guess it was really then that I realized I was bisexual.
I told Lynn that the one experience did not change me really and I eventually married a great guy, had children and led a very normal life until…
Lynn urged me on, “Until what? Don’t stop now! What happened?”
I was hesitant to answer. Her question brought back memories of a time I am not proud of. In the end I told her the truth.
“It only a few years ago when a year after my husband passed my middle child, a daughter, and I had sex. I’m not proud of it but it changed my life. I realized that for years I suppressed a need that was filled by Val for a while and then you for a bit now we’ll see who comes along but the door is now open.
Lynn asked me again about Val, “When you were with Val and your daughter was it like being with your husband? Being with my son was very much like my husband but with the passion the domination I had been denied all those years.”
I answered her as best I could. “I’m not sure how to answer that question. For me because I am equally attracted to both men and women it is emotionally very much the same but physically different. Being with a woman is better. Women know where the button are.
Lynn asked, “Why do you think did it ended between you and Val?”
The answer to that question was simple, “She found someone she wanted to be with more than me.”
We had finished dinner and after cleaning up we sat side by side in the living room on the couch.
As we talked Lynn asked me about my marriage, was I happy, was the sex good? Lots of questions.
She told me that this was the first time in forever she dared go braless.
I smiled and asked her if she would like to borrow a tee shirt, just for tonight. By the way, Lynn’s tits look wonderful in a Mickey Mouse tee shirt.
Dear reader, Join us in our soon to be published OVER FIFTY HOUSING — Olivia where Lynn and I will meet Olivia and start the OFH Writers group with the following writers prompt.
“Write about a secret desire fantasy you have that you have never told anyone.”