Fantasy


I'm tired.  I've been writing so much it just wears me out sometimes.  I have
my adventures, and I have my fantasies.  Some I long to be true but others I
could do without for if I had them all I would be consumed by a boundless lust
I could never sate.  Some might call it nymphomania but is my desire to be
punished a true representation of my sexuality or is it revealed by my
obsession with the male genital and its insertion  in all my orifices.  I do
find pleasure in the eyes of another beautiful creature, the release of my
soul over to that person relieves me of the responsibility of experiencing
pleasure in forms that I am told go beyond the norm society supposedly has
set.

I was watching the Discovery Channel the other night and caught a program
about sex.  No, nothing X rated, but a story   concerning the origins of human
sexuality. The fact that the female breasts of humans are the only ones
permanently enlarged and that the female ass is hart shaped to better entice
males.  Well, if this  is true then my physiology is perfectly designed to
attract men and I have attracted a few women too.  I am pleased with my
ability to attract and my writing is an extension of  my desire to attract.

Is it so wrong to want to please men and women.  To fulfill their fantasies? I
was reading Nancy Friday's new book " Women on Top"  and I found myself in so
many of the stories which women had written to her.  they covered all kinds of
topics, from domination of men by women to animals and sex, to women wishing
to see two men have sex with each other. Lesbianism, bi sexuality, rape,
complete fascination with dicks and pussy.

I don't apologize for being enamored with other human bodies, male and female,
and glory in all the ways which I can please myself and others.

I may have a confidence in myself which I have no right to.  My normal
insecurities as a teenager I have born.  I have been places in my head I
wished never to come back from, only to make that final leap, but was pulled
back from the precipice by good friends and love.  An emotional as well as a
physical love.  The love so powerful that I was released of my personal
responsibility for my life and gave it over into the care of people who would
not betray me.

In that care I can express my desire for the carnal whether real or imagined
and take those steps to orgasm without fear.

I came to know my mothers best friend in ways I could never have imagined. Her
presence in my life was like a second mother hovering on the edges of my
reality, only stepping in before I could get myself into real trouble.  Just
that one extra baby sitter,  that fairy god mother who grants your wishes
without you knowing.

I'm a fully grown woman, yes physically,  if not in years, and I was finally
proud of the body life had provided.  I'm average in height with hazel eyes
and auburn hair, a nose I inherited from my grandmother, not small but smooth
and undominating of my face.  Breasts that have had no need of a bra for a
couple of years now,  an athletic but not hard body.  I don't resemble or want
to become some Amazon.  I'm growing more comfortable with me every year.

Alice is about eleven years older than me.  I guess more an aunt than a copy
of my mother. She has a joy about her that is uncommon in my experience with
older people.  She's taller than me but not by much, maybe a couple of inches
so I still have to look up to her.  Her body is certainly bigger than mine,
not fat but fuller with larger breasts and wider hips.  A nice face but most
certainly blonde hair straight from a bottle, she's certainly terrible at
hiding her roots.

I've always felt comfortable being close to her,  and think nothing of staying
the night at her home every once in a while.  Alice is a clinical psychologist
and lives by herself off Superior Av.   I was always impressed with her
apartment, its book lined walls and strange Scandinavian furniture,  so unlike
our suburban comfortable home.  Alice made a habit of entertaining young
people,  usually college students taking special classes.  I was always
impressed with their sophistication,  at least by my standards,  and hung on
every word amongst Alice and her charges.  You wouldn't believe what they used
to talk about.  Female masturbation for one.  This one girl listed about half
a dozen ways for her to frig herself without anyone else knowing what she was
doing.  Her favorite seemed to be crossing her legs in public and rubbing them
together till she came.  I thought I was the only one who knew about things
like this and it shocked me deeply.  This woman would wear skirts fairly high
above the knee without any underwear.  It didn't matter where,  in class,  on
a bus,  in the university cafeteria, she would masturbate herself and cum all
hours of the day.  Even this was not always enough and she told how she made
regular trips to the rest room to pull up her skirt and physically fuck
herself with a small vibrator she carried in her book bag.  I was mortified as
this was delivered to a small group of people who laughingly agreed with her.

Alice knew these kinds of discussions embarrassed me, and she would smile a
very impish smile when the subject turned to sex.  If she and I were alone
after one of her soir es I couldn't bring myself to ask her why these people
talked like this.  She knew I would never raise the subject and one day took
that responsibility from me and initiated me.

It had been a long evening and I helped Alice clean up after a grad student
party, clearing dishes and ash trays.  She washed, I dried.  the plates were
warm in my hands and the towel gave me a feeling of comfort and home, order
and happiness,  my pleasure in being in her company.    As we stood at the
sink, Alice innocently asked me my impression of the evenings conversation.
You could have knocked me over.  I hesitated in reply, saying I felt
overwhelmed with their sophistication concerning sex since I had very little
by comparison. She smiled and said, time granted us all experience if we but
grasped what was offered us.

I looked into her eyes not comprehending her.  Looking at me she placed a
soapy hand under my chin and planted a kiss on my cheek.  She went back to
washing the last dish and handing it to me, dried her hands on the towel at
her waist and made off to the living room.  Kind of in shock I dried the last
dish, placing it in the rack by the sink and followed her.

We sat on the floor with our backs nestled in overstuffed pillows lined up
against  the couch.  Mozart played only loud enough to fill the edges of my
hearing. We sat close together, her thighs leaning against my legs, her gaze
on some imaginary point, listening closely to the music for the lack of
volume.  I was afraid to move, afraid to disturb her, afraid to feel her next
to me with thoughts bounding inside my brain of masturbation and sex. I
contemplated my experiences, ticking them off in my head to reassure myself I
had some experience.  My lost virginity and my few experiences in real love
making. Experience was surely not the word with boys a couple years older than
me who possessed no more experience  in how to please me than I knew in how to
please them.

Alice leaned a little closer to me turning to face me.  Her breasts pushed
against my arm.

"Tell me how you make love dear, she said."

My voice failed me for moments, and then I heard myself speaking but had no
conscious feeling of controlling what came out.  Alice knew I wasn't a virgin
and somehow I found myself describing my sex life.  It all rushed out of me,
my virginity, a boy breaking my hymen, the pain the blood, the fear, no
pleasure.  I knew she was good at this because of her profession, but I didn't
feel like a patient.  She stroked my arm as I talked moving higher to my
shoulder and then my neck.  I was telling her how I had told this boy to
stroke my breasts and not maul them.  How my nipples became hard and sensitive
and how all I wanted in the world was for this boy to kiss my breasts all
night.  As I spoke this, her hand came off my shoulder on to the top of my
breast.  My t shirt outlined my breasts and showed my engorged nipples
clearly.  As she touched me I began to speak in slow motion not quite getting
enough breath to speak.  She hardly stopped at my breast and her hands moved
to my waist and lifted  the bottom of my shirt and began to pull it up my
body.  She didn't really touch me as the shirt climbed over the tips and she
stopped when both my breasts were exposed.  She placed her hands over me, just
leaving them there, not moving, squeezing, or petting me. Just feeling me fill
her hands.  Her face filled my vision.  I saw her lips come to me.  They
landed on mine,  pressing softly,  a gentle kiss.  I hadn't thought to kiss
her back,  but suddenly I found myself pressing back.  I loved Alice and my
love gave me over to a new experience.  I wasn't afraid and I wasn't sure why
because I should have been very afraid. But my trust in her love overcame that
fear of the unknown.

I was amazed as our clothes came away.  the new experience of her breasts
crowded out my fears.  I spread my legs for her and watched as she brought her
hand to masturbated me, to spread my petals and stroke slowly up and down.  No
penetration, only smooth fingers moistened by the expression of my excitement.
She kissed my face, my eyes, my neck just below my ears, trailing her tongue
up my lobes to the tops of my ears.  I could only lay there and let her have
me.  I was hers to touch to feel to caress to love.   I lay back on the
pillows, letting the music invade my conscious mind.  She stood and walked
between my legs.  I could only look on in fascination at her body as she
moved, her breasts hanging and swaying as she knelt before me.  Lying inside
my legs she smiled at me, no longer impishly but in a sweet happiness that we
were here, together.  Bringing one breast between my legs she took it in hand
and brought it to my sex.  The nipple nestled onto my sex and with her hand
began to rub gently up and down me.  The nipple spread my lips farther apart
and I felt it reach the top and my clit.  Alice moved her breast more
insistently, stimulating me in a way I couldn't believe.  My breath rasped in
my throat.  I wanted to cum but the feeling wasn't building very fast.  It
just felt so good.  We gazed into each others eyes as she masturbated me with
her beautiful full breast.  I brought my hands to my own breasts and rubbed my
nipples back and forth harder and faster as Alice frigged my clit.  It was
building and I couldn't stop.  I looked at myself and what I was doing and
knew in some remote corner of my moral sense that it was wrong.  Maybe that's
what brought me over the edge.  Knowing it was wrong made it feel all that
much better, and I came like never in my life.  My hips pushed back at her
breast and I pulled on my nipples, actively willing myself  to cum all over
Alices breast.  Oh! Yes!  I would cum.  I would let her please me always and I
would please her.  I lost all control as my orgasm moved through me spreading
from my sex all through my body and out the top of my head it seemed.  My body
jerked a little as Alice carefully moved her breast from between my legs.
Scooting up to my face to kiss my tears.