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.