Confused Heart in the Heartland (FF, MF)

By Chaz Thain

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WARNING -- This is a work of erotic fiction intended only for
readers of a legally responsible age in the jurisdiction where
they live. This work may be archived and redistributed, but it
may not be sold or changed in any way. I encourage comments and
criticism.
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Dear Dr. Carroll,

	I know this letter will be way too long, but my situation is so
confused I'm afraid to leave anything out. If you print this in
your column, please feel free to cut all the meaningless babble.
I've also enclosed a stamped, self-addressed envelope in case you
want to reply directly. But I desperately need your advice.

	I grew up in San Francisco, a third-generation Chinese American
with very traditional parents. I have two brothers who are both
much older. In fact, my second brother left for college while I
was still in grade school. Since both brothers attended college
and grad school on the East Coast, I felt like an only child.

	My parents were very strict, very Chinese, so I was pushed to
excel in school and music. Luckily, my mother believed in
physical fitness or I would have spent my whole life playing
violin and studying. Volleyball was my sport and I always loved
the teamwork and the intensity of a close game. By now you may
have guessed that I'm tall. In fact, I'm freakishly tall for a
Chinese girl ... 5-feet-9.

	My looks are not much to brag about. When they're being kind,
people call me "cute." Objectively I think I'm attractive when I
smile, plain otherwise.

	Physically there's not much to say once you get past "tall." I
do have long, athletic legs that I've caught people checking out.
And my butt is firm from years of competitive volleyball. Up top,
well, I've heard descriptions like "slender," and "long-waisted,"
but nobody ever looks at my chest because I don't have one.
Thirty-two, B-cup, that's me. The only reason I bother with a bra
is my nipples are very dark against fairly pale skin.

	My problem is sexual, obviously, since I'm writing to sex
columnist. Please bear with me.

	Thanks to my protective parents, I went to an all-girls school
and never had a date until I was 17. Even then the occasion was
arranged by my parents and their old friends the Changs.

	Eddie Chang was okay at first, despite the thick glasses and the
fact that I was taller. We ate pizza and went to a movie, but Dr.
Jekyll turned into Mr. Hyde on the way home. He parked on the
street in full view of anybody passing by and suddenly his hands
and mouth were all over me.

	I had rarely been alone with a boy before and I was shocked as
only the truly naive can be. I barely even touched my OWN breasts
and there I was being mauled by a semi-stranger. My first kiss
was anything but romantic. I was totally disgusted when Eddie
tried to push his tongue in my mouth. When he shoved a hand up my
skirt and tried to poke a finger into my panties, I leapt from
the car and ran. Luckily I was only a mile from home. I refused
to answer my mother's questions about my date, and made sure I
was never alone with Eddie again.

	No biggie, of course. Lots of girls have lousy first dates.
Unfortunately my second date followed the same lines. The only
difference was Robert Fong made his play while we were still at
the movies. And I bailed out before he got around to lifting my
skirt. It turned out that Eddie had told a bunch of guys I was
"loose," which is the only reason Robert asked me out.

	Where was the romance I was reading about in books? What was it
about boys that was supposed to set me on fire? As far as I could
tell, they were more animal than human, and not very appealing
animals at that!

	I DID have one more date in high school, for the big annual
cotillion when I was a senior. My mother insisted on me going and
arranged for my escort. He was another friend of the family ...
three years older ... clearly bored with me AND attending a high
school cotillion. I suspect he was humoring his parents like I
was, and he never laid a finger on me aside from a couple of slow
dances. I was home in bed by midnight.

	So (you're thinking) she had a lousy time dating in high school
... just like 90 percent of the girls in America. What's the big
deal?

	The big deal was college ... and that's were things got REALLY
confusing!

	I had four scholarship offers, so naturally I took the one
farthest from my parents. I knew instinctively that I had to get
far, far away from them if I ever wanted to be my own person.
That's how I landed at a small, but well-known liberal arts
college in the upper Midwest.

	On my first day of college I was unpacking in my dorm room when
I heard a quick knock on the door. I opened it and met the
100-watt smile of Dannielle "Dannie" Bales, a sophomore with
personality enough for 10 people.

	Dannie was a resident assistant in my dorm, notifying freshmen
about orientation activities. To my delight, she stayed and
talked for half an hour. By the time she left, I was glowing with
pleasure at her attention. She has the knack of making you feel
you're special with a smile and a few words.

	Dannie told me later that she fell for me during those first 30
minutes in my room. The feeling was completely mutual, though I
really had no idea WHAT I was feeling. I just know I was flushed
from head to toe by the time she breezed out with a wave and a
promise to come back soon.

	 Well, Dannie and I were inseparable after that, though it was a
long time before our relationship became physical. You won't
believe this, but I honestly had the vague idea that lesbians
lived only in San Francisco because I had seen them there all my
life. It never occurred to me that lesbians could also be
feminine little extroverts from Chicago.

	I was in the middle of my first relationship and I didn't even
know it!

	It also never occurred to me that I was a lesbian. I had never
been sexually aroused by man or woman, though I was familiar with
a warm feeling that spread through my body during certain movies
and while reading certain books. I was quite familiar with my
inadequate breasts, and once I had taken the advice of a book and
squatted naked over a mirror to look between my legs.

	"Eeewwh!" I thought, "I'm obviously deformed."

	I decided nobody could ever be aroused by the sparse black hair
and dark, crinkly lips of my vagina, though it was interesting to
see such a vibrant shade of pink when I pulled myself open. At
least my asshole was not as ugly as I expected, considering its
function. Actually, it was kind of cute.

	Dannie was very touchy, which was completely outside my
experience. She was always touching my hands and arms, and
occasionally my face and legs. And she began giving me neck and
shoulder rubs that left me flushed and shaking. I had no idea,
but she was prepping me for something much more intimate.

	Finally she started giving me back rubs after we finished
studying each night that left me in a state of total -- but
uncomprehending -- arousal. You wanna know how naive I was? I was
wishing I could find a guy who made me feel the way Dannie did!

	Despite many offers, Dannie never let me give her more than a
token neck rub in return for the hour-long sessions she spent
taking the kinks out of my back. But she finally relented one
night in her room after a grueling study session.

	"Rub my back, Wendy, before I turn into one giant cramp!"

	So I finally got to give Dannie a real back rub. I made her lie
down on her bed and started by sitting next to her. But I soon
realized I could apply some real pressure by getting on the bed
and straddling her hips. That felt interesting, her solid butt
warm between my thighs. Then I gave her a world class massage. I
realize now that I was pouring all my unspoken feelings into that
passionate but tender back rub.

	I started where her neck met the base of her skull, gently
squeezing and stroking until she sighed. Then I moved on to the
rest of her neck, her shoulders and down her back. It thrilled me
when she moaned her pleasure. But I had barely gotten started
when she said, "Wait," and rose up to whip off her top. Then she
laid back down, looked over her shoulder and said simply, "Undo
my bra."

	A strange wave of heat swept through my body as I unhooked her
bra and felt her bare skin beneath my fingers. The warmth seemed
to gather between my legs and for the first time I felt myself
becoming wet. Suddenly I could feel every slight motion of my
swollen nipples inside by bra. I was lightheaded and breathing
like I had run up three flights of stairs. I knew I was on the
threshhold of something powerful and scary, but what?

	I think I might still be rubbing Dannie's back if she hadn't
finally sighed and turned over, tossing her bra aside. I had seen
glimpses of her breasts before, but now they were laid out below
me like a banquet in front of a starving woman. I couldn't take
my eyes off her milky white skin, her dusky pink areolae and her
thick nubs. Dannie rubbed the marks the underwires had left below
her breasts.

	"God it feels good to get that thing off," she whispered. Then I
did the boldest thing I've ever done. I pushed her hands aside
and started rubbing the marks below her breasts.

	"Hey," I said hoarsely, my mouth dry, "who's giving the massage
here?"

	I was terrified that Dannie would slap my hands away from her
breasts and tear herself away from me, but no. Her eyes stayed
closed and her delicious mouth (did I say that?) curved up into a
smile.

	"Hmmm," she said. "That feels woooonderful!"

	I worked under her breasts for awhile, then followed her bra
marks around her sides, all the time moving my eyes back and
forth from her beautiful mounds to her lovely face. I couldn't
look at her enough. I knew without even thinking that I wanted to
feel her warm breasts fill my hands and so -- scared to death --
I did it. I took her breasts in my hands and squeezed them
gently. My pulse was pounding in my head. There was no reaction,
so I continued rubbing them gently.

	"Do my nipples," Dannie whispered, her eyes still closed. Did I
hear that right? She wanted me to touch her nipples? I wasn't
sure, but my fingers moved on their own, sliding over her thick,
fleshy bumps. I stroked and tugged gently and lightly pinched
them between my fingers. The room was very hot.

	Dannie's eyes were open, finally, looking up at me, into my eyes
and into my soul. She put one hand on the back of my neck and
pulled me down to her, pulling my lips to hers.

	"Kiss me," she whispered, and I did. That kiss was everything
romantic and exciting I had ever read about or imagined. The
sensation of her lips on mine was thrilling, then her tongue
pressed between my lips into my mouth. Heavenly! Was that ME
groaning? She tasted warm and sweet like a melon fresh out of the
field.

	That kiss went on forever. Long enough for her to thoroughly
explore my mouth and for me, finally, to explore hers. Long
enough for me to notice her hands roughly gripping my hair and
her breasts pressing up against mine and her hips humping upwards
ever so slightly. Finally we came up for air, our faces an inch
apart, and Dannie was smiling broadly.

	"Shall I show you what to do?" she asked. Speechless, I could
only nod my eager agreement. She rolled me over onto my back and
got off the bed. My eyes followed her like radar while she lit
some candles, turned off the lights and double-locked the door.
Then she stood only inches away from the bed and unbuttoned her
jeans, pushing them slowly down her smoothly muscled legs while
her breasts hung swaying in front of her. Dannie's panties were a
blinding, pure white in the dim light, bulging where her pubic
hair filled the crotch. I think I whimpered.

	"You are soooo beautiful," she whispered, looking down at me,
which is exactly what I was thinking about her at that moment.
"I'm going to make love to you." And another wave of heat rushed
through my body, powered equally by eagerness and a hint of the
forbidden. There was so much juice between my legs I could feel
it wetting me.

	Gently, she undressed me, starting with my shoes and socks and a
short but pleasant foot massage. Then she straddled my waist and
began unbuttoning my shirt slowly. So slowly! I was on fire
wanting to feel her fingers on my bare skin. Finally she spread
my shirt open and saw my bra had the clasp in front.

	"This is handy," she grinned and flipped it open. She pulled the
cups off my small breasts, made even smaller by me lying on my
back. Now she was serious again, looking down at my chest then up
at my eyes.

	"They're beautiful," she whispered, and I melted again. She
covered my breasts with her warm hands and squeezed gently. "I
have been wanting to touch you for weeks."

	Then she put both hands on one breast, pushing it gently into a
cone shape with my prominent nipple at the very top. With one
motion she leaned down and took me into her mouth and I gasped,
strained and reflexively pushed my chest up to meet her glorious,
wet sucking. My nipple was a point of slippery, aching pleasure
that somehow went stabbing along my nerves to my other nipple and
down to my hips. I distinctly felt the muscles of my vagina
tighten, and I didn't even know I HAD any muscles there!

	THEN! Then she started using her tongue on me and before long
the whole universe had shrunk to my hard, sensitive nipple in her
sucking, licking mouth and the jets of pleasure zinging to every
corner of my brain. I thought I would pass out.

	She stopped, and kissed me again. Long. Hard. Powerful. My pussy
muscles spasmed again.

	Then my other nipple got the same treatment and at some point I
noticed a steady moaning sound in the room. Was somebody dying?
No, it was me. I was in a half-conscious fog of pleasure when she
opened the front of my jeans and hurriedly tugged them off. My
panties went next and then, gloriously, she was lying on top of
me ... acres of soft, sensitive skin touching me everywhere!

	"Fuck me," the thought became words so soft I was sure she
wouldn't hear. But she did. She stopped.

	"Say it again!" she demanded.

	"Fuck me," I whispered hoarsely.

	"Beg for it!" she ordered.

	"Please fuck me. Please, oh PLEASE, fuck me!" I never used that
word! I couldn't believe the words were coming from my mouth, or
that my hips were humping upwards, lifting her weight.

	"Oh darling I am going to fuck you soooo good," she whispered,
harsh and tender. "And it makes me so WET to hear you beg!" My
only reply was to moan and wrap my legs around her. But she was
pushing my legs open, sliding herself down, down. Where was she
going?

	I looked down past my wet, painfully erect nipples, across my
concave belly and my pubic mound to where Dannie's lovely face
hovered over my V. Our eyes locked.

	"I want your first to be wonderful," she said, and lowered her
mouth to my pussy. A moment later my mouth flew open, my head
slammed back on the pillow and my back arched, pressing my hips
up against her mouth. The pleasure before was a ripple compared
to this powerful wave.

	"AAAAAAAHHHH!" I cried, then again. "AAAAAAHHHH! AAAAAAHHHH!
AAAAAAHHHH!"

	It was impossible, obscene, dirty, but Dannie was licking me,
down THERE, her tongue sliding from my gaping, dripping, wide
open lower mouth up my slit to brush against my hooded clit. My
hips were pumping convulsively, my hands death-gripping the
comforter, my quivering mouth trying not to scream. I was
moaning, humping, pounding the bed with my fists and wanting
nothing more than her mouth and my pussy, together, neverending.

	The waves quickly grew more powerful, but I was only partly
aware, my head full of pink-orange fog so the final crest caught
me by surprise. The pleasure overwhelmed any remaining thought
and I became just an animal. A shaking, begging, convulsing,
dripping, glorious animal.

	"OOOOoooooooh, Dannie! My God! My God! Oh MY GOD! AAAAUUGGH!
AAAAUUGGH! AAAAUUGGH! OH FUCK! FUCK! FUCK ME SWEETHEART! FUCK
MEEEEeeeeeeee!!!

	Finally my thrashing, moaning and babbling subsided and I felt
my pussy squeezing and squeezing. Completely spent by my first
cum, I already knew I had to have more. And more. And more.

	Finally I got the strength to raise my head and look down at
Dannie. I found her looking at me with a big grin, her chin
resting on my pubic mound and her face glistening with my juices.
I thought she was beautiful.

	"Good?" she asked.

	"Good doesn't even begin to describe this feeling," I said
weakly, and her grin got even bigger.

	"I was hoping you'd like that, because I plan to do it a lot,"
Dannie said. My throat tightened, thinking of her licking me
again. Then she wiped her mouth on her arm and crawled up until
we were face to face, gazing into each other's eyes. She
straddled one of my legs and I felt the rasp of her coarse pubes
and the kiss of her wet lower lips on top of my thigh. She
squeezed my leg between hers and pressed her crotch against me,
then she pulled her hips up and pressed down again.

	Soon Dannie had a slow rhythm going, her hands gripping my arms
while she ground her sex against my leg. Her breathing started to
labor and she kissed my nipple, then briefly sucked it into her
mouth. I was in heaven, watching her arousal build. Her face
became flushed, her eyes closed and her sweet mouth became slack
and fell open slightly. I wanted to kiss those lips, but they
were just out of reach, so I watched.

	She kept rhythmically humping my thigh and she gasped when I
instinctively raised my leg to put more pressure on her crotch.
Dannie increased her tempo and now her whole body was moving up
and down on top of mine, her erect nipples brushing my skin. It
seemed to go on for a long time. The top of my thigh was
completely wet and I could feel droplets sliding down to wet the
sheets.

	Then her eyes were wide open, staring wildly into mine, while
her mouth tightened and became a wide 'O' of arousal.

	"Wendy! Wendy! I'm ... almost ... THERE! Uh! Uh! Unh! Uh! Uh!
Unh! Unnnhhmmmm! Unnhmm! Mmmm! Mmm! Mmm! Mm! Mmmph!

	Then her whole weight was on me, her face buried against a
breast, her tits flattened between us and she was cumming,
cumming as she humped me faster and faster! Her first scream was
short and high, but muffled against my small breast, then her
mouth found my nipple and she bit down sending an icy stab of
pain/pleasure searing through my body.

	"Mmmph! Mmph!" she moaned, and then raised her face to mine, her
features distorted with pleasure.

	"I'm FUCKING you sweetheart! Fucking! Fucking! So FUCKING GOOD!
My sweet FUCK! My lover! My sweet FUCKING LOVER!"

	And so it went for what seemed like an hour until she was
completely spent, flat on top of me, motionless but for her
ragged breathing. I was so happy she came making love to me, and
never felt more tender as I stroked her sweaty hair and smiled at
the ceiling.

	"So this is who I am," I thought at last. "A girl who loves
girls."

	It was awhile before I could call myself a lesbian, but I was
content. The puzzle was solved and the last piece fitted into
place.

	And that's how I discovered I was a lesbian. A couple from that
day forward, Dannie and I became roommates in second semester and
made love every chance we got. She made me come in dozens of ways
and taught me how to make her come. I became an expert lover with
my mouth, fingers, my whole body. My proudest moments came when
we lay cuddling after making love and I saw the deep satisfaction
in her eyes. We were both insatiable that first year, exploring
each other.

	She also introduced me to our school's close-knit lesbian
community. I found that our dorm had a reputation as the lesbian
dorm even though most of the girls who lived there were straight.
That's what my conservative parents got for insisting that I live
in an all-girl dorm. I made a point of getting along with both
hetero and gay girls, even though some of the straight girls
wouldn't have anything to do with the lesbians and vice-versa.

	I went home to San Francisco for the summer between freshman and
sophomore years, and missed Dannie horribly the whole time. We
would talk long distance and finger ourselves to orgasm while
urging each other on.

	My mother eagerly questioned me about dates and boys at college,
so I made up dates and boyfriends and showed her snapshots of my
male friends as evidence.

	"Anybody serious?" my mother would ask, and I replied, "No.
Still playing the field," while thinking of Dannie.

 	My sophomore and junior years were blissful, especially since
Dannie and I talked our parents into letting us attend summer
school in between. When our families visited we recruited guys we
knew to play our temporary boyfriends. Dannie kept a photo of her
high school boyfriend on her desk, while I had a poster of
Russell Crowe and displayed numerous snapshots of male buddies.

	 We made no apologies for not coming out to our families, though
the activist lesbians on campus held our cowardice in contempt.
As far as I was concerned, my parents would go to their graves
thinking I would eventually settle down with a nice Chinese boy.

	Our idyll finally ended when Dannie graduated with honors and
got a job in Chicago. The Windy City was far enough away from
school that it was tough to make the drive for a weekend visit.
Plus my father found me a great summer internship in San
Francisco. I couldn't say no to that, so back I went to the Bay
Area. Once again I spent my nights cradling the phone to my ear,
listening hungrily to Dannie's voice while desperately tugging on
my nipples and rubbing my pussy. Only that summer, family and job
obligations kept her from calling as often as before.

	I was wildly eager when I flew east for my senior year. Although
I loved school, the real reason my heart pounded as the plane
landed in Chicago was that Dannie was driving me back to campus.
We crushed each other with a hug when we met in the baggage claim
area, and I made her kiss me long and deep when we finally got to
her car. The ride back to school was one long reunion as we
shared stories, touches and our longing for each other. We fucked
that weekend until our lips were swollen, our tongues tired and
our pussies sore. I was crushed and tearful when Dannie had to
leave early Sunday for a family event back in Chicago.

	And that was the last time I saw Dannie until Thanksgiving! She
was traveling and working long hours for her company and helping
her parents deal with an unruly younger brother, so she was
rarely free. It was then I realized how spoiled I had been during
my first three years of college. Dannie had been my lover, my
best friend and my world in those years. The hole left by her
absence was huge.

	Not that I wasn't busy. I was swamped with school work, and 
involved in several campus organizations besides playing on the
volleyball team and playing with my chamber group. Still, my
emotional life was as barren as the Sahara. I was lonely.

	My emotional state did not go unnoticed among my friends and
acquaintances. In fact, I was surprised when several girls hit on
me during the first few weeks of school, including one who had a
boyfriend! All but one took my rejection gracefully and left me
alone to dream about Dannie.

	The exception was Buffy, although that was not her real name.
She got her nickname from a certain television character known
for sticking vampires with wooden stakes. Only our Buffy's fame
came from sticking girls with her famous strap-on.

	Buffy was a fifth-year student and softball player ... a bit
heavily built but powerfully muscled. Her firm, D-cup breasts and
bubble butt put us all to shame. And her face was attractive too,
though on the masculine side.

	Buffy propositioned me the day after Dannie left and I told her
to get lost in very clear terms. But unlike the others, she kept
coming back. At least once a week she showed up at my door,
asking to come in and talk. If I let her inside she typically
closed the door, to my irritation. Then she would sit or stand as
close to me as possible, talking in a low, suggestive voice. She
was very candid.

	"Listen, Wendy, I know you're in love with Dannie. Who isn't?
She's a fine piece of ass. But Dannie is gone and she's not
coming back," Buffy said. "Why not give me a chance?"

	"I'm not giving you a chance as you call it because even though
Dannie is not around, we're still a couple," I said.

	"Did Dannie say you're still a couple," Buffy demanded.

	"She doesn't have to say anything," I retorted confidently. "We
both know what we want, and we want each other."

	There was another reason I didn't want anything to do with
Buffy. Dannie had never put anything inside me bigger than a few
fingers. But a friend had seen Buffy come out of a bedroom late
one night at a house party -- drunk, nude and wearing her
strap-on. I don't know much about penises, but hers was reported
to look big and dangerous -- especially bobbing from the loins of
a hardbody like Buffy.

	Buffy was peeved at my resistance.

	"If she wants you so much, how come she can't find the time to
drive down from Chicago," Buffy said. "If you were my girl I'd be
driving down here every weekend just to sit on your face."

	Uncomfortable, I looked away. It bothered me that Dannie called
and came down so rarely, but I knew how much her work and family
were taking up her time. Anyway, Buffy continued to proposition
me and I continued to say no.

	Finally, as Thanksgiving approached I began leaving messages on
Dannie's machine, subtly (I thought) hinting I should spend the
holiday at her apartment in Chicago. She returned some of those
calls, mostly with brief messages left on my answering machine,
but she never mentioned Thanksgiving. I began to despair,
thinking I would not see her at all during the break. Surely her
company would not send her on the road during a holiday?

	Then came the call I had been waiting for. I returned from class
to find Dannie's voice on my answering machine. She would be
driving down to see me the day before Thanksgiving -- she gave no
other details, but I happily assumed she would take me back to
Chicago for Thanksgiving with her wonderful family and long,
breathless romps in her apartment. I called back, but missed her,
then began packing and telling everyone of my plans.

	The afternoon of Nov. 23 found the campus deserted, with me
waiting eagerly in my room, my suitcase ready. Finally I heard
those familiar steps coming down the hall and I jumped to open
the door.

	"Dannie!" I cried, hugging her and kissing her deeply, "I've
missed you sooooo much! Why, you're beautiful!"

	She smiled and hugged me in return. She looked terrific --
vibrant, healthy and stylishly dressed. She was even wearing
makeup, which she never did at school.

	"You look great, too!" she exclaimed, indicating the clingy,
feminine dress I put on to display my small assets for her
benefit. "And I can tell you've been working out like crazy!"

	We sat on the bed and chatted non-stop for half an hour,
catching up, before the conversation began to slow.

	"Well, let's go," I said, eyeing her full breasts, "unless you
want to lock the door and have some fun before we head for
Chicago."

	Her smile faded.

	 "Did you think you were coming to Chicago with me?" she asked.
"I never said that!"

	"But we've been talking about it all along," I cried.

	"No. You've been talking about it," Dannie said.

	"Well if we're not going to Chicago, where are we going," I said
impatiently.

	"Wendy, you're not coming with me," she said, then added
hesitantly, "I'm going to St. Louis with a friend and I thought I
should stop by to say hello."

	My eyes teared up and something seemed to be crushing my heart
in my chest. I was dumbstruck, looking at her in disbelief.

	"You're going to St. Louis with a friend for Thanksgiving?" I
said in disbelief. I knew Thanksgiving was a big deal in her
family, complete with squads of relatives arriving from all over
the country.

	"Yes, I'm spending Thanksgiving with my friend's family."

	Then it hit me. I had been dumped. Replaced by some girl from
St. Louis. My world collapsed and soon I was sobbing, face down
on my bed. Then I thought, "NO! I'll fight for this woman! The
only woman for me!"

	So I begged, I threatened, I pleaded and I demanded she come
back to me. We were meant for each other. She was the one.

	It would have been easier if she had gotten angry, shouted, even
hit me. But her face had the same patient, loving expression it
always wore when we fought. She talked, explained, and answered
questions, but the essential fact remained the same. There was
someone else.

	Finally my mind was blank, I was out of arguments. But there was
one thing -- one last, wild chance. I stood, faced her and slowly
unbuttoned the top of my dress. I knew my face was tear-stained
and blotchy, but my breasts were not. Dannie always loved my
breasts, couldn't get enough of them, sucked and nibbled me until
I was sore. I pushed the dress off my shoulders, I wore no bra,
and stood before her, arching my back, offering myself. Her eyes
were on my chest.

	"Please," I said, "let's make love one more time. At least I
know you'll remember me."

	She hesitated, then reached out. It was working! She was going
to touch my breasts! I closed my eyes. I would love her like
never before, make her explode with pleasure and tenderness. She
would stay!

	Then her fingertips brushed my cheek. I opened my eyes and she
was looking into them. There was tenderness in her eyes, and
distance.

	"I could never forget you, Wendy" she said softly. Then she was
gone.

	I cried for hours on my bed, not even bothering to button my
dress. Once there was an insistent knocking on my door and
someone calling my name, but I ignored them. They were in the
land of the living and I was in the land of the dead -- or
somewhere in between. I couldn't hurt this much if I were dead.

	I fell asleep in the cold darkness and woke up, groggy and
confused with a weak mid-morning light of Thanksgiving Day coming
through the curtains. Only I had nothing to give thanks for. I
cried again and slept again. The dorm was empty. I couldn't even
call my parents. They would realize that I was still at school,
and questions would be asked. Questions I couldn't answer.

	The sky was dark again when I woke to a knock on my door. They
kept knocking, whoever it was. Listlessly I sat up, slowly
buttoned my now-wrinkled dress and tottered to the door. It was
Buffy, with a pizza in one hand and a pair of Diet Cokes in the
other.

	"I know you don't want to see anybody, but I hate to think of
you crying in the dark. And unless you've got a tin can in there,
you have to go pee sometime."

	She was right. I desperately needed to pee and thirst made my
tongue thick in my mouth. I plodded to the bathroom, peed, then
just walked into one of the stalls and turned on the shower. I
drank from the spray. I don't know how long I stood there, but it
was long enough to get thoroughly chilled. Apathetic, I hadn't
bothered to turn on the hot water. I was shivering
uncontrollably.

	Then Buffy was there, turning off the water, stripping me out of
my sopping dress and panties, toweling me roughly. She said
something about the feeble-minded. She led me back to my room,
put me in bed and crawled in beside me. She was wearing only a
t-shirt and panties, though I barely noticed. She pulled my head
into her shoulder, wrapped me in her arms and said, "Cry it out.
Get it over with. That's how you get through these things."

	So I cried again, and slept again, but not as long this time.
When I woke up there was daylight coming through the window and
Buffy was gone. But the pizza and Cokes were still there and I
was starving. I wolfed down a slice of cold pizza and drank an
entire can of Coke in two long draughts. I belched loudly,
grimaced and began to think I might live. I pulled on a clean
t-shirt, gazed apathetically at my hair in the mirror and went
back to bed.

	I woke up as Buffy climbed into bed with me. She was nude. Her
breasts seemed huge as they briefly hung over me, her nipples big
and thick. She wrapped me in her arms and held me for a long
time, stroking my back. Her thickly muscled thigh was pushed
between mine, hard up against my crotch. I was too apathetic to
stop her or protest. I thought about how Dannie used to hold me
in bed, cried, then fell asleep.

	I woke up later with Buffy kissing my face and shoulders.

	"Leave me alone," I muttered weakly. "I don't feel like it."

	"I know you don't, sweetie, it's going to take you awhile, but I
need a little sugar. Just let me work and I'll take care of you."

	She took off my t-shirt and kissed me for a long time; face,
neck, shoulders, breasts. She was gentler than I expected. After
the longest time my nipples finally began to stiffen and swell.
She sucked gently and it felt good. She sucked a long time. My
pussy began to get warm and moist. I laid there motionless. She
scooted down and began to kiss my belly and thighs. I didn't
care. I was surprised my body was reacting to her when my
soul was dead.

	 Buffy finally settled her face between my legs, kissing gently
and teasing with her tongue. I could feel my lips swelling,
opening. I spread my legs wide, an automatic gesture. Her tongue
parted my labia, stroking up and down, finding the opening of my
vagina and circling the edges. I sighed, my brain numb and my
pussy burning.

	She settled into a pattern, penetrating me deeply with her
tongue, mouth pressed hard against my opening, then withdrawing
to rim the edges, then slowly sliding her tongue up my slit to
circle my clit -- not touching -- before descending again to
penetrate me with her long tongue. I found myself panting. She
teased and teased me that way until my hands reached down to grip
her short hair and I pushed my hips up while pushing her head
down, aching for contact.

	She gave in, fastened her open mouth over the top of my slit and
began lightly flicking my clit with her tongue-tip. I felt her
penetrate me with two fingers, then pull out and spear me again
and again. Her fingers raked the walls of my vagina. I groaned.
Her tongue was soft, slick, relentless and my back was arched and
my hips thrusting up, down, up, down, and then I came, screaming
for once a full-throated cum-scream because for once there was
nobody in the dorm to hear.

	"WaaAAAAAAAeeeeEEEEeeeeAAAAAAAAUUUGH!" I wailed, keening a
strange, powerful mixture of ecstasy and sadness. I drew a huge
breath and screamed again, even louder, screaming to be heard in
St. Louis.

	"Aaaaaaauuuuggghhh! Aaaugh! AAAUUGGHHH! DANNIE! DANNIE! DANNIE!
OH DANNIE FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME DANNIE!!! PLEASE FUCK ME
DANNIE!!!

	And with my nipples hard as rocks and my pussy gushing into
another woman's mouth, I screamed my lover's name again and again
and again until I was hoarse and exhausted. I was half-asleep
again, spent, before Buffy even lifted her face from my crotch.

	I regained consciousness not long afterward to find Buffy
standing beside the bed, strapping on her dildo.

	"I can't take that thing," I said listlessly. She chuckled.

	"You're as hot and wet as the Amazon," Buffy said, "you'll take
it just fine."

	She climbed on top of me and lifted my legs.

	"Here, it'll be easier if you pull your knees up to your chest."
Apathetically I did as I was told. I felt her fingers exploring,
looking for my opening, then the bulbous head of her dildo was
there, pressing firmly. It was impossibly big, like someone
trying to push an apple into my crotch. I knew it wouldn't work.

	"Relax," Buffy said, "breathe. Let it in."

	I realized I was holding my breath, so I consciously started
breathing again.

	"The hard part is over," she soothed, a big hand planted between
my breasts. "Stay relaxed and you'll get the best fucking of your
life!"

	I opened my mouth to explain that I was technically a virgin who
had never taken anything larger than a few fingers. But I lost
the power of speech when I felt that monster head sliding deeper,
inexorably and slowly deeper. Thank God I was dripping wet from
being eaten. Then I felt the head of the dildo press hard against
my cervix and Buffy's hips were flat against my crotch.

	I couldn't speak. It hurt. It hurt a lot. But the pain gradually
faded as Buffy stayed motionless for a long time, the giant dick
inside me, connecting us. I was panting, quick, shallow breaths
and beads of sweat covered my face and chest. Buffy was sweating,
too, her face glistening in the dim light from the window.

	"Beautiful," she said, smiling down at me. "You were MADE to
fuck!"

	I said nothing. I couldn't. I was completely overwhelmed by a
sense of being opened, entered and filled. All my senses were
focused on the unnaturally big, hard THING that had invaded and
taken over my body.

	Buffy hung over me for a long time as my pussy grew accustomed
to the dildo -- as much as it could. Then without warning she was
pulling it out -- slowly, slowly, slowly. It hurt again. It hurt
a lot as my overstretched and abused sheath closed slowly behind
the withdrawing head of the monster. She stopped. Then she was
pushing back into me. I pulled my legs back to my chest and
remembered to breathe. It hurt. But then she was buried in me
again, motionless, and the incredibly full sensation replaced the
pain.

	Again. Again. Again. She slowly withdrew and slowly reentered
me. The minutes ticked by. Sweat ran and dripped from Buffy's
powerful body, mingled with the sweat on my body and dripped down
my flanks to soak the sheets beneath. Juices oozed from my pussy
down my asscrack to make a wet spot under my butt. Gradually she
moved faster, in and out.

	"Why do you LIKE this!" I demanded hoarsely. She grinned down in
the semi-darkness.

	"Why do YOU?" she challenged.

	And I knew she was right. At first she had given me pain with a
little pleasure. Now she plunged into me and I felt pleasure with
a little pain.

	"If that's what you want, let's get it ON!" I growled angrily,
tugging hard on her nipples and shoving my hips up at her. She
cried out and doubled the speed of her thrusts. Soon the flat pad
that held the base of the dildo was slapping wetly against my
widespread crotch, covered with both our juices. Buffy went
faster and faster, breathing heavily, beginning to curse and say
horrible things.

	"Take it you little slut! Take my fat dick in your cunt! You
know you want to be fucked and fucked hard! Sweet little slut!
You won't be able to walk when I'm through with you! I can feel
that cunt of yours sucking my dick!"

	Dannie and I enjoyed talking dirty, but that was nothing like
the string of obscenities pouring from Buffy's mouth. She said
she wanted to make me bleed, wanted to tongue-fuck my ass, wanted
to pour her pussy juice down my throat, wanted her fist in my
cunt and a dozen other foul, forbidden wants. Hearing her made me
go WILD! I shouted obscenities back at her, bucked violently,
pinched her nipples until she screamed and raked her ass with my
nails.

	She came. Oh, how she came! I was awed by the uncontrolled fury
of the climax unleashed within the big, powerful body that had so
completely ruled me a minute before. Buffy convulsed and
shuddered as wave after wave of bliss swept over her. She rocked
her hips rapidly against mine, threw her head back and howled a
deep cry of triumph and pleasure. Tears ran freely down her
cheeks from her tightly closed eyes, and her mouth was stretched
into a huge 'O.'

	She collapsed, her weight crushing me. I don't suppose she
weighed over 160, but it felt like a ton compared with my lanky
135 pounds. She lay on me for a long time, panting while I
crooned softly and stroked her hair. My fingernails had left
long, red scratches across her back and buttocks.

	In the end she levered herself up far enough to unbuckle the
dildo's harness then tumbled onto her back beside me. She was
muttering "Ohmygod,ohmygod," repeated over and over. I reached
between my legs and gingerly worked the dildo out, wondering
if my pussy would ever return to the size where inserting a
tampon was a struggle.

	Then I discovered the secret of Buffy's dildo. The pad that held
the dildo against Buffy's crotch was two-sided. The long, thick
shaft that had been inside me protruded from one side, but the
other side had two smaller dildoes. One was short, but as thick
as my wrist and clearly designed to fit into her vagina. The
other dildo was little more than a springy bump, placed to rub
her clit. No wonder she loved using the fake phallus. Every time
she plunged the long shaft into me she was stretching her own
pussy and rubbing her joy button.

	After that I suppose Buffy and I could be called lovers. More
like sex partners. I never went to her room, but she came to my
door a couple of times a week and I usually let her in. I wanted
the sex and the feeling of a body against mine, but it was never
about love. I was still grieving for Danny.

	Buffy usually brought her dildo and I let her use it a few
times, but I couldn't take it without a lot of foreplay and I
usually didn't have the time. Plus, I never orgasmed with the big
shaft inside me. There was too much pain mixed with the pleasure.
She tried to get me to wear the dildo and use it on her, but I
refused.

	Buffy wasn't exactly faithful. I suspect she was fucking one of
the other girls on the softball team, and she slipped away on
occasional Friday nights to do something she was evasive about.
Knowing Buffy, she was fucking somebody.

	I was no better. Home for Christmas I lied to my parents, then
cruised lesbian bars. I got lucky twice. One time was quite
pleasant and I was home in bed by midnight, glowing from a couple
of nice orgasms. When I went home with the other woman, she
turned out to be older and kinkier than I wanted, so I just
apologized and walked out.

	One thing I hated about Buffy was she got stupid, mouthy and
tactless when she got drunk. And she liked to drink. After a
couple of disasters I quit going to parties with her. Even at gay
parties you could count on her to offend someone before the night
was over, usually one of the lesbian activists. That's how I
found out the secret of her Friday disappearances.

	The school year was winding down towards graduation and I was at
a party -- theater and fine arts people, both straight and gay.
There was a lot of drinking and some toking as there always is
when people have most of their grades locked up. I heard Buffy's
voice coming from the other side of the crowded room -- clearly
drunk. There was a break in the buzz of conversation and you
could hear her loud and clear.

	"What do I have to do to get some DICK around here!" she cried.
The leers and disgusted looks around me made me cringe and I
slipped out. People knew Buffy and I were occasional sex
partners, if not exactly soul mates. I didn't want to get dragged
into another boozy shouting match.

	Later that night I was awakened by a tapping on my door and
Buffy's hoarse whisper. I let her in because I hadn't gotten laid
in a week, and I had been wondering about her outburst at the
party.

	She didn't have her strap-on so we made out and petted awhile
before getting into a 69 and bringing each other off. Afterwards
she lay beside me, sleepily stroking my pussy while I fondled one
of her big tits. I was always intrigued by their size and weight.
She was still half-drunk, but I could handle her one-on-one.

	"Was that you hollering for dick at the theater department party
tonight," I asked, careful to keep my tone neutral.

	"Yeah," she yawned. "I was looking for a stiffy to sit on, but
every guy I tried was a faggot!"

	"I didn't know you liked dick," I whispered calmly.

	"Once in awhile I crave a fuck," she said sleepily. "I know a
guy on the football team over at St.  John's. He's hung like a
stallion and his roommate is nearly as big. I get a double-header
and they're cool about using condoms."

	"So that's where you go those Friday nights?" I said.

	"Friday is boy's night out," she said, dropping off, "but we
stay in the jock dorm so we don't run into their girlfriends."

	"SHIT!"I thought to myself, glaring at the ceiling. I'm sleeping
with a girl who's sleeping with not one, but two football
players. And who knows how many girls THEY were sleeping with! Or
boys. I didn't have much faith in condoms, and I was suddenly a
candidate for a whole list of diseases. That did it.

	I jumped out of bed, shouting at Buffy to get up, and gathering
her clothes. She awoke, befuddled.

	"What is it, a fire drill?"

	"Get your SLUT ass out of my bed and get your clothes on,
Buffy!" I demanded.

	"What? What's going on?"

	"You are out of my room and out of my life as of 10 seconds from
now," I bit out.

	"What did I do?" she cried plaintively as I tossed her clothes
in her face.

	"What did you DO! You mean besides fucking the St. John's
football team," I asked.

	"Hey, that's just once in awhile for fun," Buffy said
defensively. "It's not like a relationship or anything."

	"Stupid BITCH!" I shouted. "Your FUN has got me exposed to
everything from herpes to AIDS!"

	"I TOLD you they use condoms!" she shouted back, getting angry
"and it's not like I'm the only girl who likes an occasional
fuck."

	I pushed her, half-dressed, out the door while she shouted
angrily. I slammed the door and put my back against it. Seconds
later I was startled when she pounded the door with her fist.
BANG!

	"You're a stupid, naive CUNT!" she raged, alerting anybody on
the floor who had missed the festivities so far.

	"Go AWAY!" I screamed. Then BANG, she battered the door again.

	"You think you're SO fucking hot shit!" Buffy screamed. "Little
miss 'Yuck, a dildo.' Little miss, 'Not tonight I have to study.'
Little miss, 'Dannie and I are in LOOOO-OVE!' "

	Exhausted and dispirited, I didn't answer and she continued her
rant. And what she said next chilled me.

	"Well guess WHAT! you little fucking CUNT! Your beeee-loved
Dannie is in bed with a guy right NOW! That's right! LIVING with
a guy! ... ENGAGED to a guy! ... MARRYING a fucking guy in
September! And YOU are the only CUNT on this ENTIRE ... FUCKING
... CAMPUS who doesn't know! NOW what have you got to say!

	I startled Buffy by yanking open the door.

	"That's a LIE!" I screamed. "Take that back!"

	"It's the TRUTH!" she retorted, her face red.

	So without thinking I attacked her, starting the shortest
girlfight on record. I was flat on my back three seconds later,
having run straight into Buffy's outstretched hand. She didn't
even have to make a fist to stop me. So much for my career in
boxing.

	Hoping to preserve an ounce of dignity, I got slowly to my feet.
Then, ignoring the heads poking out of every door on the hall, I
glared briefly at Buffy, entered my room and SLAMMED the door
with all my strength. The hall was immediately filled with racket
as some girls tried to find out what happened, and others tried
to fill them in.

	Dannie could NOT be marrying a guy, I thought. It just wasn't
possible. So my brilliant strategy was to call her and demand the
truth, trying not to start sobbing while the phone rang in
Chicago.

	"Hullo," Dannie muttered sleepily. I was hugely relieved the
phone had not been answered by a guy.

	"Dannie!" I cried, "it's Wendy."

	"Oh, hi, Wendy," she said in the voice that told me she was
smiling. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

	"I'm so sorry, Dannie, but somebody told me an awful story about
you and I was silly enough to just pick up the phone to ask you."

	"What story," she asked cautiously.

	"Well, Buffy and I just had this screaming fight in the hall and
she said ... this will KILL you ... she said you were living with
a guy and engaged and getting married! I could murder that stupid
Buffy. She loves nothing better than starting trouble no matter
who gets hurt. Now she's saying horrible things about you because
she's mad at me, but by god I was mad at her first and for a very
good reason ... "

	Suddenly I realized I was doing all the talking.

	"Dannie? Are you there?

	"I'm here," she said, and there was a long pause.

	"It's not true, is it?" I asked tentatively.

	"It's true, Wendy, and I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I
tried and tried to write you, but gave up. I was just sure one of
the gossips at school ... " her voice trailed off.

	I sat there stunned.

	"Wendy, say something."

	"Wendy?"

	"But aren't you gay?" I finally managed.

	"I guess not ... at least not exclusively," Dannie said. "I
always dated guys in high school, but I was interested in girls,
too. Then I started dating guys at college and it just wasn't
working. You'll admit our alma mater is not known for its studly
guys?"

 	I was silent, but of course I had to admit that. With some
well-known exceptions, the guys at school tended to be pale,
studious and short on testosterone. That was one of the things I
actually liked about our campus. You could work late on a project
in a guy's room, fall asleep and not wake up with your panties
around your ankles.

	"So one night a girl started kissing me at a party," Dannie said
simply. "She was hot, so I thought I'd give it a try. And I found
out I like girls."

	I was still baffled.

	"But now you're straight again?" I asked.

	"Not 'again,' " she sighed. "I am what I am, and it doesn't
matter to me if I fall for a guy or a girl. I met Jeff at work
and it was like finding the last piece of a puzzle. We fit."

	It was all too much for me. My head was spinning with confusion.
The only thing I knew was that Dannie was a even farther out of
my reach than I thought. I surrendered.

	"Goodbye," I said softly, and hung up the phone. It started
ringing a few seconds later, but I let it ring. It stopped after
20 or 30 rings, then started again. I unplugged the phone and
silence descended.

	I sat there for a long time, staring at the phone, too far gone
for tears, until finally I got up and fell into bed and slept.

	Okay, this story has gotten incredibly long so I won't bore you
with any more details from college. In terms of sex and
relationships, nothing happened anyway. I graduated with honors
and spent the summer interviewing around the country before
taking a job in a large Midwestern city (NOT Chicago!). My
parents were disappointed not to have me in San Francisco, but
they rewarded my hard work in school -- and my new job -- by
buying me my first car! What a hoot! People couldn't believe I
had never owned a car at age 21.

	So ... new job, new car, new apartment, new city. Next, you're
thinking, I'll throw in a new relationship. Nope. I buried myself
in work and on my free days explored my new city and its
surroundings. I took classes in karate and watercolors, and I
kept my emotions in the freezer compartment of my head. I found a
community center where they played a very intense brand of
dogfight volleyball two nights a week. That was big fun after the
structured and disciplined game I had played for years.

	And I discovered live music! My new city majored in blues and
jazz, with minors in zydeco, rockabilly, reggae, country,
bluegrass and rock. I discovered this fact early on when I hunted
out a tiny joint famed for its barbecue. The music coming from
the back room was loud, upbeat and irresistable. My barbecue went
cold in the carryout bag while I spent the whole evening tapping
my toes and grinning like the Cheshire cat. After that I prowled
the city most Friday and Saturday nights, finding the bars, cafes
and joints where the most gifted players held court.

	Boring, huh? But boring was what I wanted. It's better than
painful. I had proven so inept at figuring people out, and
myself, that I gave up trying.

	I went out sometimes for drinks with co-workers. I enjoyed
myself and was amused once or twice to find I was the object of
advances from guys.

	"Hah!" I thought. "If they only knew ... they're WAY off base."

	Although I saw thinly veiled ads for lesbian bars downtown, for
some reason I never checked them out. I told myself I wasn't
ready for another relationship.

	Of course, I had relationships with people in the office. I was
even assigned a 'mentor' whose job was to help me adjust to
working for the company and guide my career. What a joke!

	My mentor was a haughty blonde junior executive a few years
older than me. Every Monday morning she stuck her head in my cube
and chirped, "How's everything going?" She waited long enough for
me to say, "Fine," or "Okay," muttered, "Keep it up!" while
looking at her watch, then trotted toward the elevators.

	My REAL mentor was a guy named Ray who worked in a cube down the
hall. Ray introduced himself during my first day at work and I
immediately noticed the twinkle in his dark brown eyes. Although
10 years older than me, he made me think of an impish little boy.
That impression was often reinforced.

	Ray introduced me to a buddy in the security department who
winked and provided me with a pass for the parking structure
right beside our building, instead of the distant lot where I had
been assigned. Ray also showed me how to snag one of the few good
spaces that weren't reserved for executives.

	Ray took me to a funky little coffee bar on a nearby side street
where he was a regular. The owner -- a struggling artist --
ground his own spices, made heavenly flavored lattes and the
baristas adopted me as a girlfriend despite my lack of piercings
and tattoos.

	Once I had big assignment due, delayed by a baffling problem
with my computer. When I called our tech shop a bored voice
suggested they might look at it next week ... if I filled out a
request form. I told Ray about my problem and he made a phone
call. Ten minutes later a shy, pimply guy appeared, solved my
problem and blushed like a 12-year-old when I praised his skill.

	Ray seemed to view our corporation as a very large, very complex
game created for his amusement. He was actually a member of
another department who, for reasons unknown, was permanently
attached to ours. If he answered to a boss, I never learned who
it was. He had contacts all over the company, including distant
field offices, who seemed pleased to drop what they were doing
and provide information, services or fresh jokes whenever Ray
called.

	Ray had no secretary, business cards or title, and his cube was
only one size larger than mine. He claimed he never did any work,
but his phone rang constantly and people dropped by all day to
talk with him, sometimes for hours. I was startled once when I
walked by Ray's cube and saw him talking with the president of
our division, their heads together over some document.

	Intrigued, I finally asked Ray what he did for the company.

	"I'm the grease, darlin'," he grinned. "I'm the guy you call if
you want to get a message to another division without notifying
any managers. I'm the guy who knows Boise has a forklift they
don't need, and Jersey City needs a forklift and has an extra
1,000-watt generator. I never break a law, but I've broken every
accounting and inventory and human resources rule they ever
made."

	"They pay you for that?" I asked, incredulous.

	"They actually pay me to be a systems analyst, but I haven't
analyzed a system in six or seven years now," he said. "This is
more fun."

	Ray soon noticed I wasn't dating anyone and turned down all
offers. He remarked on it once and all I had to say was, "On the
rebound ..." and he never mentioned it again.

	Physically Ray was not imposing ... an inch taller than me, with
a medium frame. He wasn't thin like a runner -- but compact like
a boxer. He had short, curly hair that he "combed" occasionally
by running his fingers back and forth through it like a rake. I
cracked up every time I saw him do it. He would look up, puzzled
and say, "What, WHAT!" then start laughing with me.

	Ray was such a great storyteller that it took me awhile to
realize his real strength was listening. I had his complete
attention any time I told him about a situation or problem, and
he often asked me questions that showed he understood the
situation very well. And creative? He somehow found solutions to
problems that provided something for everyone involved.

	In case you're wondering, Ray never ogled or hit on me. Although
once when someone came looking for me, I overheard him say,
"She's the beautiful Chinese girl in the last cube on your
right." And although bullshit was one of his tools, Ray was
typically honest to the point of bluntness.

	Judging by the photos in his cube, Ray spent his off hours
playing baseball, bicycling, camping and hiking with his family
-- a pretty blonde wife and two little boys.

	So I was surprised one Friday afternoon when I walked into my
favorite club and spotted Ray at the bar. He was smiling
blissfully and swaying to the music, still in his suit with his
tie pulled loose.

	"RAY!" I shouted with delight. "What are you doing here!"

	"Wendy, darlin'!" he grinned. "Linda took the boys to her
mother's for the weekend. But I had to stay home 'cuz they're
tearing out our driveway tomorrow. So I came downtown for some
reggae. What are YOU doing here!"

	So I explained my newfound fascination with live music. I found
out Ray was also crazy about music and, predictably, very
knowledgable. So we stood together listening the the band,
sipping our drinks, and talking animatedly during breaks. The man
knew the words to every Bob Marley song ever recorded, and he
could SING! I laughed and sang until my face hurt. Then I asked
Ray to dance and found he could dance, too, in his own wild
style. We had FUN!

	I don't know where the idea came from. Suddenly it was just
there in my head. I wanted Ray.

	Actually it was more specific than that. I wanted kind, smart,
fun, vital Ray. In my bed. In me. That night. And I had a plan to
make it happen.

	So you're thinking, 'What a slut!' and I admit I gave no thought
to morals or ethics, Ray's marriage or even what he wanted. I
forgot all about Dannie. It was just me and my sudden, strong
need for one specific thing. I had never had a man, never really
wanted one, but I wanted this one ... now.

	I was certainly flying, but far from drunk. No, if anything was
moving me I can only describe it as the tide of life. I felt
swept along by impulse, moving inexorably in one direction.

	I started acting drunker than I was, sometimes holding Ray's arm
or leaning on him. I stood and moved and danced closer. I widened
my eyes, or turned to smile at him over my shoulder. I used all
the half-conscious wiles I could summon -- but I could not tell
if they were working! Ray was the same -- witty, talkative and
charming -- but not touchy or openly interested. It was getting
late, and time to roll the dice. I stumbled and put my hand to my
face.

	"Ray, I need to go home. But I don't think I can drive. Could
you get me home? Please? Please?" I begged.

	He did exactly what I hoped he would, looked concerned and took
me home. Luckily he walked me to my door, so I didn't have to do
anything obvious to get him there.

	I fumbled my keys out of my purse, handed them to him and
collapsed against the wall. He struggled to get my door unlocked
while supporting me with one arm. Inside I went limp and he had
to put both arms around me as the door swung shut. My heart was
thudding with excitement and fear. Success or humiliation lay in
the next moments.

	"Bedroom," I murmured, waving an arm in the general direction.

	Ray half-carried me to my bed, made dimly visible by a night
light. As he lowered me to the comforter I put my arms around his
neck and pulled him into a kiss. For long seconds there was no
reaction. Then he pulled his face away.

	"Wendy, sweetie, we can't do this," he murmured gently, a
regretful half-smile on his face. He probably expected me to let
him go and quietly pass out on the bed. But I wasn't done.

	Luckily I was wearing a light summer top. I kept one hand on the
back of his neck and with the other yanked at a strap until it
broke. Then I pulled my top down, exposing my breasts in a lacy,
white bra.

	"Don't leave!" I begged. "Please, please make love to me!"

	I pulled his face to mine for another kiss and this time he
didn't pull back from my hungry lips. For a moment he even kissed
me back. Then he was holding me and whispering urgently.

	"No, Wendy, this is not good for you. I can't give you what you
need."

	"This IS what I need!" I insisted. Then my hand stole to his
crotch where I found his penis rock-hard. "Hmm," I thought
briefly, "my first penis." I squeezed it through his pants. "Give
me this!"

	Again he tried to pull away, but I wrapped my legs around him.
My lips clung hungrily to his. My weight made Ray topple forward
onto the bed and I clung even tighter, kissing and kissing.

	"Wendy, NO!" he was trying to be firm, but I detected desire in
his voice. I  pulled my top down around my waist and pushed my
bra up off my breasts. Then I slipped my hand into his pants  and
began stroking his dick. I was surprised by the velvety softness
of the head, the weight of the hard shaft and how it filled my
hand.

	I remembered how aroused Dannie got while sucking my tits, so I
pulled Ray's face to my chest, pressing a breast up to his mouth.
He no longer resisted, and suddenly he took my nipple in his
mouth and sucked hard! His tongue eagerly flicked my erect nub
while he sucked half my breast into his mouth. "Ahhh," I moaned
with pleasure! I pulled his face harder to my chest, and pushed
my breast up to welcome his assault, crooning endearments in the
dark.

	His body relaxed, no longer trying to escape, and I knew I had
won. Ray was mine!

	I won't give you a blow by blow description, but the next hour
was a revelation to me.  At school, girls joked constantly about
the bad sex they'd had with guys. But I learned that a man can
make love to a woman generously, but with power and great skill.

	The first surprise ... it didn't hurt when he entered me. True,
his dick wasn't as big as Buffy's strap-on. But it was big enough
that I expected it to hurt.

	I had never had sex with a man, but that didn't matter. Ray
didn't ask what to do, or what I liked, or say anything beyond an
occasional soft endearment. Once begun, he took control and I was
mostly passive as he lifted me to the heights again and again
with his delicately skillful hands, his mouth, and finally his
spearing dick.

	I learned that a man's dick feels subtly different from a dildo,
though in some ways the same. And I learned the overwhelming
feeling of a hard dick plunging deep with every thrust, about the
tiny jolt of pleasure each time our hips met that grew and grew
until it became a lightning bolt.

	I must have looked like I had been hit by lightning as I
twitched and convulsed and gasped and groaned through two
climaxes.

	Finally Ray pulled out of me and began to untangle himself from
my arms and legs.

	"Nooo!" I cried hoarsely, "Where are you going?"

	"I'll bet you're not protected," he whispered, looking down
gently, adding, "And I can't hold back any more."

	"I don't want you to hold back!" I cried greedily, taking his
sticky shaft in my hand. "I want you to come in me!"

	His need must have been terrible because he only resisted for a
second before letting me guide his dick back inside me. And in no
time he was crying out, his thrusts becoming faster, less
coordinated, his whole body straining while he came. I can't
really describe the tenderness and deep satisfaction I felt.

	Ray lay on me for a long time, his breath in my ear slowly
fading from a roar to a whisper. I crossed my ankles behind his
thighs to keep him there, my hands stroking his back and running
through his mop of hair. He seemed totally spent, almost
unconscious. Finally he rolled off me and was instantly asleep. I
glued myself to his side, one arm and leg thrown over him, and
fell asleep with my head on his shoulder. In the hour before
dawn, he kissed me on the forehead and whispered goodbye.

	I felt great the next day, loving the whole world and suffering
only the faintest pangs of guilt. My only regret is that it took
weeks to get my relationship with Ray back to where he was
comfortable with me again. He's clearly glad I don't want a
continuing affair, and he still feels guilty about our one night
stand. There is so much I can't tell him, that he still doesn't
understand why our passionate encounter happened.

	I don't understand it, myself. What spurred my sudden desire for
a man? Was it some instinct, some deep mating urge? Was it a
delayed reaction to losing Dannie? Hormones, or horniness? The
more I think about it, the more puzzled I get.

	Am I a straight, but confused? A situational lesbian? Bisexual?

	And that's why I wrote this letter, Dr. Carroll. I've been
reading your advice column for a long time and I trust your
common-sense approach to sexuality. Am I lesbian, straight or bi?
Is there a clue in this endless letter that means nothing to me,
but screams the truth to you?

	Awaiting your response, call me Confused Heart in the Heartland.


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WARNING -- This is a work of erotic fiction intended only for
readers of a legally responsible age in the jurisdiction where
they live. This work may be archived and redistributed, but it
may not be sold or changed in any way. I encourage comments and
criticism.
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