("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text ------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2015. Please do not remove the author information nor make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------- Plus One by Secret DC Guy (secretdcguy@hotmail.com) *** The nicest guy ever helps a high school lesbian get exactly what she wants; the most beautiful girl in school. However, it starts a journey that shows happy endings do not always turn out the way you expect them to. (ff-teens, FF, MF, 1st, rom) *** Proms had to be the worst inventions the evil gods of high school had ever created. Pimply faced, stinky teenage boys sat around saying that they were taking this hot girl from a different school only to come back a week later and ask if somebody has a “friend”. Girls spent months and hundreds of dollars trying to find just the right dress. And for what? It was really nothing more than another high school dance, just with the mediocre dinner at the beginning. Oh, and if you were a cool kid you might end up going to a pretty fun party afterwards. Of course, I wasn’t one of those cool kids. I was an 18- year-old high school girl—a senior just like all the other kids I knew. I was to the shorter side of normal, but still average. I wasn’t skinny, or fat, or curvy, or just about anything else that would make my body stand out. My light brown hair was shoulder length and straight—again nothing remarkable. I wasn’t good at sports, or music, or drama. And of course, I carried a B average. There really was nothing remarkable about me. Well, that really was only partly true. There was one thing that did set me off from the other girls—I was a lesbian. Yes, I was a dyke, a carpet muncher, queer or whatever else you want to call it. The fact is I went to a small rural high school and I liked girls. I wasn’t out, but there were rumors. That kind of thing happens when you get caught checking out Caitlin Brooks, the cheerleading captain, after gym class. Luckily, there were only a few months left in my high school career. After that, I was going away to a college in a city that was hours away from this town. So to me, the problem was really a nonevent. Nobody was going to ask me. I was not going to ask anybody. And I would not go. At least, that’s what my plan was. How could I have predicted that the path to my happily ever after started on prom night. If there were one person that I would have gone to the prom with, it would have been Caitlin Brooks. She was perfect! Though possibly a little bit on the short side, she was athletically slim with perky teenage breasts. Her short blonde hair was so light that if you hadn’t known her for her entire life you would think that it was bleached. And she had the cutest freckles. She was every teenage lesbian’s dream. We had always been friendly, but were never friends. However, as high school passed I began to feel some kind of vibe from her. It was almost as if she could tell that I would check her out discretely. Normally, when I looked at her breasts or her behind, she would give me a knowing smile as if it’s okay to do this. However, I was busted one day after gym class. Caitlin had looked especially beautiful that day and I was positive she noticed I was checking her out. I actually thought something might happen because strangely, she opted to take a shower after gym class which few of the girls did. I just stood around the locker room waiting for everyone else to leave. I was one of those invisible kids, so nobody would notice if I stayed, at least that’s what I thought. When I thought everybody was gone, I positioned myself so I could look into the shower. Somewhat to my surprise, Caitlin had positioned herself at the one shower nozzle where from my angle I could look in and see her. As she showered it seemed like she didn’t know I was looking. That was strange, considering she seemed to have a sixth sense for whenever I checked her out. Watching her, I began to feel a tingling between my legs. I had this often when I looked at her, but never this intense. Not able to resist it, I unsnapped and unzipped my jeans. I let my hand wonder down into my panties, and I began to play with myself. Within a few seconds I was lost in the feeling, though still staring at Caitlin. Unfortunately, I hadn’t kept track of everybody. One of the girls who didn’t particularly like Caitlin, but liked nothing more than bullying me had also stayed behind. When she saw what I was doing, she yelled “Dyke!” And ran out of the locker room. Caitlin looked at me, and gave a sad shrug. Ashamed and scared, I quickly grabbed my stuff and left the locker room. Later that day, rumors were flying around. Vicki Jackson was a lesbian, who had been masturbating while watching the hottest girl in school take a shower. There were comments, and even some pushing. At one point though a bunch of boys were saying they were going to rape me to turn me straight, Caitlin came walking up. Part of me wanted her to tell everybody it was true but that it was okay. But I also knew that wouldn’t help. The prettiest girl in school, though, did something even more helpful. She told the boys that she had seen me the entire time lost in study. She said she had not seen my pants down or me playing with myself. In fact, Caitlin said that she was pretty sure I hadn’t even noticed her until the bully said something. Quickly, it became a ‘she said, she said’, leaving everybody to decide if they were going to believe Miss Perfect or some stoner. So when prom time came, there were occasional jokes about whether I was going to take a girl. There were even comments about me not going because I was gay. But in general, it was okay. There was only one thing that bothered me, the big after party was going to be at Caitlin’s parents’ house, and they would not be home. I knew, though, that even if I were going, I would never be invited to a cool kid party. Kids choose to go to the prom for strange reasons though. Some kids have a significant other they think they will spend the rest of their lives with, while some think it will be the last big time out before they go to college and drift away. Some kids want to go with their friends just so they can experience the night. I became one of those rare cases who went to the prom because I liked somebody other than the person asking me. Dennis Michaels would have been out of my league even if I was straight. He was the star baseball player who everybody expected to have a shot at the major leagues. In addition, he was one of the smartest kids in school. But most of all, he was also one of the nicest guys, generally liking everybody and acknowledging everybody’s presence even mine. The thing that sold me on going to the prom with him, though, was that he was close friends with Caitlin. It happened about a week before the prom. I was sitting alone in the cafeteria, reading a romance novel. In general, I hated them but I also knew that the straight girls had started to read them. So essentially, I was false advertising that I was just like them. Out of the blue, Dennis came and sat in front of me. He explained that his traveling baseball team was supposed to have an away game that day. Unfortunately, it had been a very wet winter and the field they were supposed to play at was underwater. As there was no way it would be ready in time, the game had been canceled. He really wanted to go to the prom, but at this point everybody he knew had a date. He continued, saying that we had been in some classes together and I seemed nice. He knew it was a long shot, but he was wondering if I wanted to go as his friend. All of a sudden, I had a date who could give me access to Caitlin’s party. Strangely, he didn’t seem surprised when I said yes right away. I was able to borrow a dress that fit OK from one of my cousins who lived nearby, and my date was able to get a tuxedo in time. We didn’t match, and there weren’t any of the other niceties like a limo or a corsage. Instead, Dennis pick me up in his dad’s car and treated me like a friend who he respected. He didn’t try to romance me, but at the same time he didn’t try to talk to any other girls. Most importantly, he didn’t try to do anything physical. He was the perfect date for me. The hardest part, though, was that we ended up sharing a table with Caitlin and some of the other popular kids. All of them seem to ignore me most of the time. Only Caitlin, along with Dennis, would occasionally involve me in the conversations. It was frustrating to be at a table with my biggest crush, and have to there her with some loser from the football team. Luckily, they weren’t all over each other. However, eventually the stress got to be too much. I politely excused myself to the ladies room, but instead of going there I went outside, found a quiet place, and began to cry. I didn’t expect it when I heard a gentle voice asked me if I was okay. In my wildest dreams, it would have been Caitlin coming after me, but it wasn’t. Instead, it was one of the guidance counselors, Miss Abigail Morris. I tried to brush it off and say that I was just overwhelmed by the number of people and the fact that I was even there, as this is something that normally I wouldn’t be involved in. However, she could tell that I was lying and just simply told me that she knew how frustrating things could be. She didn’t say what she was referring to, but I knew. We sat in silence for a few minutes enjoying the warm humid spring air. Then when I had regained my composure, she helped me to my feet. With a tender smile, she looked me straight in the eyes and told me, “it gets better.” For a moment I got lost in hers, which were blue like the purest water. They were like tiny oceans in a young looking face framed perfectly by golden blonde hair. When she hugged me, I felt like I wanted to say I love you and kiss her. She almost made the pain of not being able to touch Caitlin go away. It was only a second, though, before we parted. With a hand on my back, she led me back into the dance, which was mercifully winding down. Dennis, who after all was a guy, hadn’t considered that something might be wrong. And though I said I was tired, he insisted that I go to Caitlin’s party with him. Caitlin’s party took a strange turn almost immediately. Her date immediately started getting fresh with her, which she publicly showed was unwelcome. However, it seemed artificial, almost rehearsed. Even when one of her date’s buddies showed up and she kicked both of them out it seemed as if it wasn’t unexpected. I tried to talk to Caitlin a couple of times, but she kept telling me politely that she would talk to me later. Eventually, people began to filter out. Dennis was still very nice and kept me as entertained as I could be. However, he did refuse to do one thing—take me home. As the party wound down, I asked several times, but each time he put me off a little bit. Eventually he said, that he wanted to help Caitlin clean up. I was pretty sure I knew what was going on. Caitlin had ditched her date so she could end up with Dennis, and Dennis had only come as a cover to be with Caitlin. I had never felt so used. Finally, it was just the three of us left. We did the basic clean up together, with me feeling like a third wheel. I felt relieved when Dennis said he was going to head out. The torture being so close to Caitlin was almost unbearable, and now it would be over. Most people think that life has a smooth flow from one event to the next with things foreshadowed in one way or another. If that is true, I must have been the most oblivious person on the planet because when I turned to go get my stuff I was shocked to feel her hand on my shoulder and hear Caitlin say, “Please, don’t go.” Turning and looking at her, she looked sad. It was a particular kind of sadness though, the one of fear tinged with embarrassment when you think you may have put something on the line and lost. I didn’t see her face as I stared at her, instead I could see her soul. She was like me. I didn’t respond, but both she knew I was going to stay. When Dennis came back with his stuff, he had a huge smile on his face. Caitlin grabbed him and while sobbing kept thanking him. As he stroked her hair, he said that she had always been his best friend and he wanted nothing more than to see her happy. With that he gently kissed her on the cheek, then hugged me, and then walked out the front door. It was awkward. The two high school lesbians finally stood alone, face-to-face, finally having to answer the unrequited crushes they had for each other. At first we stood chatting about what the problem was like. But eventually we ended up sitting on the sofa talking about our lives and our dreams. It was late and I was feeling tired, but I came back to life when the most beautiful girl in the school leaned over and gently kissed me. One’s first kiss is always a shock, probably just because you’ve actually done it, but it’s even more of a shock when you’re gay because it’s rarely the way you dreamed it would be with the person you wanted it to be. However, with Caitlin everything seemed perfect and in a few minutes we were heavily making out. Eventually, we ended up in Caitlin’s bedroom. As we lay on her bed heavily making out, our dresses quickly came off. I hadn’t needed to wear a bra, and Caitlin had managed to somehow go without one too. So as our chests rubbed together I got more and more turned on. It was Caitlin who started to push things further, gently kissing down my neck and onto my chest she kissed around my breasts and ended up sucking on my nipples. It was the perfect combination between playful and passionate. The perfect thing for a high school lesbian’s first time. After a few minutes, her hands slipped under my panties, as she gently played with and sort of twirled the shorthair I had down there, I went from being wet to totally soaked. When she slid between my legs and began to pull my panties off, I lifted my hips to let her. Then she returned to her task kissing down my stomach and onto my thighs. Finally, one of my masturbatory fantasies actually happened, Caitlin’s tongue licked my pussy. At first it was unfocused. Apparently, she had no experience with this. To help her, I made a point of responding to everything that felt good, and soon she was concentrating on my clit while she fucked me with two fingers. I ended up coming the hardest I ever had in my life. When I came down from the high, I was more than happy to return the favor. I figured that Caitlin had done to me what she would have wanted done to herself, so I followed the exact same pattern. I was surprised at how big her nipples felt in my mouth, and how hard they actually were. And as I kissed down her breasts to her stomach I could taste the salty perspiration of her first time. When I finally got to the place of my second fantasy, she was already soaking wet. I cannot describe what the taste was like, but to this day it is still the best thing I had ever tasted. In almost no time, I had her exploding in orgasm. Later in life, I would have cuddled with her naked. However we were teenagers and didn’t understand the etiquette of being lovers. While we did cuddle and share a bed, we each wore a pair of Caitlin’s pajamas. She looked beautiful in hers, while the pair I wore was much too short for me but somehow still seemed to hang off of me. I drifted off to sleep thinking life couldn’t be any better. By the time we got up the next morning, Caitlin’s mother was home. When we got downstairs together, she had bagels and cream cheese waiting for us. It was awkward and welcoming at the same time, as Mrs. Brooks acted like there was nothing strange about her daughter bringing another girl downstairs. While one could have put it off as her mother not knowing what happened, it became abundantly clear that she did when her mother said that she was very happy Caitlin had found me and she hoped I would be around for a while. Looking at Caitlin, who was disheveled from sex and the night’s sleep but still was immeasurably beautiful, I said that I would be there as long as we were in the same place. For the second time in less than a day, life shocked me when Caitlin practically flew across the table and started kissing me. It was the frantic happy kisses that one gives when your partner does something surprisingly wonderful for you. At first I didn’t understand why she was telling me she would stay with me forever then. We were both going off to college and I assume to different places. However, Caitlin explained that when she saw somebody was going to a small women’s college she assumed that it was me. I knew somebody else had been accepted to the same school as me, but I never figured that it would be her. Almost immediately, we declared ourselves a couple. With Caitlin at my side, I came out to my parents later that day. It turned out to be the smallest deal one could imagine, almost disappointingly so. Neither of my parents were surprised, though my father was a little confused because he thought I had already come out to my mother. Apparently, she had told him I was a lesbian and he assumed that she and I had a conversation. Realistically, they had always figured. They gave me their blessing, and asked Caitlin if she would come over for burgers that night. Young love makes you reckless, and you do things that if you were older would seem like a bad idea. Today though, Caitlin and I were young and in love. So during a walk in the park that afternoon, we decided that we would publicly come out—not just as a couple, but as full- blown lesbians. We drove to a mall about an hour away, one where nobody would know us and bought a lesbian magazine at a bookstore. Then while sitting in the food court we picked out haircuts and new clothing styles. When we got back to my parents’ house that evening for burgers we looked more like stereotypes than anything else, but we were happy and new things were going to last. The reaction at school on Monday was mixed. Though the bully kept gloating that she had been right, nobody really paid attention. Some kids, mainly the Super Christians, made nasty comments. Others like Dennis and, surprisingly, Caitlin’s prom date were very supportive. In fact, the cool kids were our biggest allies. Most of the kids, however, couldn’t have cared less; they were too focused on graduation. The next few years were better than I had ever imagined they could be. Caitlin and I came to college as a couple and stayed a couple the entire time. We eventually stopped being in-your-face lesbians, at an all-women’s college there were enough other girls like us that we didn’t feel we needed to make a statement. I studied education, while Caitlin studied journalism. We stayed on at the college long enough for me to get my Masters which would improve my job prospects. Gay, straight, or other, college couples face what is often an insurmountable hurdle—graduation. We had been together for over six years, and Caitlin and I had never talked about what would happen when both of us were finally done with our degrees. While I had been finishing my studies, Caitlin had been writing for the local underground newspaper. In only two years she had developed a really good reputation and had job offers from a number of places. I had gotten very good grades and had already started to develop a good resume. Unfortunately, Caitlin and I wanted different things. It came to a head one night when a phone call came offering her a job writing for a magazine in San Francisco. We both believed in LGBT rights and she thought it would be a great place to make a mark. I on the other hand, never saw myself teaching in an urban school district I wanted the quiet suburban life—slightly differently than other people, but I wanted that nonetheless. I also thought that I could better make my mark by teaching and showing that lesbians are just normal people. There was no fighting that night, but there was a lot of sadness. We had promised each other that we would be together forever, but that forever had turned out to be only long enough to become adults. On the day our lease ended, we kissed one last time before getting into our respective moving vans and starting out to the next places in our life—her to San Francisco, and me to this school outside of Richmond, Virginia. There was a movie from back when I grew up, “He Man and the Masters of the Universe”. It’s really a pretty bad movie, but I learned something very important from it. In the movie, they never said goodbye. Because they always believed that they would see the other person again, they instead said “good journeys”. On the day I had to report to my new school I understood how true that was. My first stop after the general staff orientation was to meet the principal. The plaque on her door said, “Abigail Morris.” What probably should have been a getting to know you talk, was really reminiscing about what things had been like my old high school. It turned out that the brief conversation with me at the prom and a quick hug had ended her career at my high school. The reason why she knew what I was feeling was because she was a lesbian too. She confessed that good judgment had never been her best trait. At first when she had come to the school, she kept her sexuality hidden and didn’t date. But eventually, she became enraptured by one of my classmate’s mother and they secretly began an affair. The façade of friendship had been suspect to a lot of people. When the bully who had first caught me masturbating watching Caitlin saw that Abigail hugged me at the prom, she decided she would make trouble. It probably would have blown over, but her lover got scared and led the drive to get her fired. With all the shouts about not wanting a dyke teaching their children, Abigail knew there was no way she could stay. She could have fought in court, and she could have outed my classmate’s mother, but she had character. So instead, she quietly took a generous buyout from the school district and found a new job. We were both in better and more comfortable places in our lives than we had been when I was in high school, and being in a lot of way peers we were able to become friends very quickly. Abigail introduced me to the lesbian scene in Richmond, small as that was, and more importantly to the larger one in Washington DC. Eventually, we got to be almost exclusive friends. Then on a weekend trip to a Delaware beach, Abigail asked me if we could be more. Looking at a woman who was 15 years older than me and pushing 40 years old, I noticed her face still look youthful framed by slightly aged but still beautiful golden hair. And her eyes—her eyes still were the blue of purest water. I couldn’t help but say yes. That night in our small bed-and-breakfast, we made love. I had only been with one woman in my life, Caitlin, so it was with sadness that I made an awkward attempt. With Abigail’s coaching I did fine, but was hard for me to concentrate as only about six months before I had lost the person I thought I was going to spend my life with. It wasn’t beautiful, but I hoped eventually it would be. Unfortunately, my new love didn’t like it the same way my old one had, instead she liked things a little rougher. Instead of sucking on her nipples I needed to bite them. Instead of gently using two fingers on her, I needed to have three in her pussy and two in her ass. Instead of making love to me gently like Caitlin did, she like to pinch my nipples hard. At first it would feel good, but eventually I would end up in pain. The only reason I did it was because I saw the smile on Abigail’s face. And Abigail was a pillow princess, she would not go down on me. She was fine using toys or her fingers, but her tongue was out of the question. The one thing that always frustrated her was that I would not let her use a strap-on on me. I had never had anything other than Caitlin’s fingers inside of me, and had no desire to have anything else penetrate me. We kept things discreet until the end of the school year, at which time I transferred to a different school. I was just starting my career and the move would be easy. Abigail, on the other hand, was an administrator and would’ve been much harder to move. I had quickly fallen in love with her, so I was more than happy to do what it took to make us work. And that was the way things stood for several years, Abigail and I lived together as lovers but kept telling people that we were “roommates”. We would make love when Abigail felt like it, which I was willing to do because I loved her. We went where she wanted to go on vacations, tended to hang around her friends. We always referred to them as our friends, but in reality I hadn’t gotten to know anyone else in the area because I got involved with Abigail so quickly. All of ‘our’ friends had been friends with her before we met. Our end was quick. The night after Abigail’s 40th birthday party, she seemed down. When I asked her what was wrong, she said that even though she was a lesbian she still really wanted to have children. I couldn’t understand what she meant. I don’t believe it was abnormal that in high school I didn’t think about children a lot of girls do because many don’t. And then from prom night I had known I would never be with a man. I wanted to be with women and had no interest in the opposite sex. Children, in my opinion, did not fit into that equation. The discussion got even more uncomfortable. With her age, Abigail was afraid of carrying a child. Her solution to that problem was for me to carry the child. And with that, the fight began. I reminded her that most people thought I was a single straight woman and that if I showed up unmarried and pregnant it might be even worse than coming out as a lesbian. However, Abigail was insistent. So finally, I agreed I would think about it, but needed some time. That week end I decided to make an unannounced visit to my parents. When I showed up late Friday night, my parents were happy to see me, but concerned about how I looked. We stayed up all night talking about what was going on with Abigail and me. Their firm belief was that I needed to get out of the relationship, which I didn’t want to hear. They were an old straight couple, who could lead a good life together, whereas I was a lesbian. When they were young they were able to freely dates and find people. While I could have done that at college, I hadn’t. I had given all of my love and my youth to Caitlin Brooks and that had come to nothing. Now I had to take whatever I could. When I started sassing back like a teenage brat, they just hugged me and said we can talk about it more the next day. I must have been feeling particularly self-loathing the next afternoon, because when my parents were out shopping I decided to take a drive out to the Brooks house. When I knocked on their door Caitlin’s parents were surprised, but invited me in anyway. Part of me hoped beyond all reason that Caitlin might have been there and that my first love would have missed me and wanted me back. But she wasn’t. It turns out that she had only been in California for about a year when she met another woman. As soon as Massachusetts had legalized same-sex marriage, they had taken off for Boston. Now my ex- girlfriend was an aspiring writer married to an elementary school teacher and talking about starting a family. It cut me to the heart. Nine years ago, I had fallen in love in this house, and now it was crushed. When I thanked them for their hospitality, they told me I could stop by anytime I was in town. I was grateful, but I told him that I didn’t think that would be a good idea. They hugged me with such love, but it physically hurt knowing that this was really the end of my first love. I spent the rest of the day in a fog. I drove around the town, eventually ending up at the mall where Caitlin and I had gotten our haircuts years ago. The name was different, but I found the same salon and decided to make a change. Describing the best I could the haircut that made me look like a lesbian almost a decade ago, I decided I was going to make a statement. I was who I was, and I was not going to let anybody change that. Abigail could take me for what I was, a lesbian who had no desire for children, or she could leave me. A few weeks later, it was I who ended up doing the leaving. When I moved into my new apartment, I was more nervous than I had ever been. As an adult, I had never been alone. I had no real adult interests to keep me busy and no friends of my own. For about a year, I reverted back to the high school me. I kept to myself, mainly reading books and not getting close to anyone. Then one day while I was walking the park it hit me out of the blue, a bicycle. Even though I said I was okay, the rider still wearing sunglasses and a helmet insisted on calling an ambulance. She kept me down and made sure that I was comfortable until the paramedics came. When they were satisfied that I didn’t need medical treatment, I finally realized who it was. My old bully from high school had almost killed me. The frustrations of my adult life quickly came rushing back, and I asked if she knew who I was. Turns out that from the second she saw me on the ground she did. Her name was Jill Sable, which I had known but had never really considered important, and she was a different person than she was in high school. She started by apologizing, with sincerity I had never seen in a person, for how she had treated me. A little while later over coffee, she told me that she was now a nurse and married with two children. She most definitely was not a lesbian, but through college and work had realized the pain she had caused me. She had hoped I wouldn’t recognize her but it was almost a relief that I had. We ended our coffee exchanging email addresses and saying we should get together sometime. Still wallowing in my sorrow, I really had no intention of being friends with anybody much less Jill, but she pressured me. Eventually I gave in and had dinner with her. Remarkably, we shared the same taste in music and books. It really wasn’t much, but we were able to start building a friendship on it. Eventually, she introduced me to a lot of nice people, all straight unfortunately, and I even started hanging out with her family. For the first time in my life I had a real friendship. The best part was that I never developed an attraction to Jill. Maybe it was because she set boundaries well, or maybe it was because we couldn’t devote our full attention to each other. I’m not sure exactly what it was, but there was something that kept the friendship a friendship. With that settled, Jill became my biggest supporter. Eventually, when I felt like I was caught in a rut in life it was she and her husband who encouraged me to take a chance and get a degree in school counseling. A few years later, I was ready to look for a job as a school counselor. It was also Jill who accidentally made me the happiest woman in the world. It happened one night when one of the Baltimore universities was hosting a symposium of authors. The theme was about when people found their voice and writing. Two authors were featured. One was a guy from near where I grew up, but had become the consummate Maryland author, writing books about the watermen and farmers of the Eastern shore of Maryland. I had never read his stuff. The other was the reason I wanted to go, Caitlin Brooks. Jill did everything she could to stop me from going. She warned me about my self-destructive streak, and told me how it would bring nothing but pain. However being the great friend that she was, when I insisted on going she offered to come with me. It went even worse than I could have expected. I intentionally hadn’t read anything Caitlin had written, I thought it would be too painful. If I had even skimmed a review of her latest book, I never would have come. It was a book meant for teenagers and it was about a high school lesbian finding love and a girl very different from her. She admitted it was semi-autobiographical, but that was an understatement. It was our story from her point of view. It went right up to our breakup, and her pulling onto the interstate headed for her new life. If the story was correct, her tears as she got into her moving van were a lie. Because the story ended with her thinking about what she had learned from the relationship and how she was now strong enough to be an adult. She didn’t include that I had been crushed. After the symposium, Jill was at my side when I confronted my ex-girlfriend, the love of my life. Like so many other things in my life, it didn’t go the way I expected. Instead of being embarrassed or regretful, Caitlin was happy to see me. She thanked me for everything I had given her and said we should get together sometime. I could tell she didn’t mean a reunion get together, she meant something more along the lines of meeting her wife and children. Luckily, before I could give an answer she excused herself to go to the airport. When she offered me an autographed book, Jill politely turned it down for me and suggested that I buy one from the other author. Having a good friend can be annoying. At the exact moment you want to wallow in self-pity and convince yourself that everything’s wrong in the world, they go ahead and do something to snap you out of it. Again, what Jill did was unintentional. Really, she was just worried that I would somehow hurt myself more than mentally. So rather than taking me home, she insisted that I stay at her house that night. So there, alone and restless, I started to read the book by the other author. I was surprised at how much I liked it. He spun these beautiful stories about sadness and hope about the loss of a way of life but the belief that there would be something else that could come up. I was hooked. By the end of the school year, I had read everything the guy had written. Most importantly, I had read about him and how he had met his wife. I really couldn’t relate because it involved dating three sisters and hooking up with their mother, but it did for the first time in my life give me a belief that maybe things can work out in the end. Most importantly, it doesn’t have to work out with the person we expected it would. Jill was supportive when I said I needed a change, and encouraged me to apply for jobs as a guidance counselor. I ended up applying for positions in three areas, two schools near Baltimore, three near Washington, and on a whim I applied to one out on the Eastern Shore where my now favorite author’s books were set. I ended up getting two offers, one outside of Washington at one of the most prestigious public high schools in the country and the other at the small rural high school on the Eastern Shore. The former made all the sense in the world. It had prestige; it paid better; and it was near a city with an excellent gay and lesbian culture, which would be perfect as I was feeling like I was ready to start dating again. Of course, I chose the other school. I don’t know whether it was fear, or fate, or a gut feeling, but something told me that that was the right choice. With the help of Jill, her husband, and all the wonderful people I had gotten to know through them, I sorted through all of the things I’d accumulated over the years. Most of my stuff was meaningless, IKEA furniture and that sort, but some of it had sentimental value. Everybody encouraged me to keep the stuff that reminded me of my parents or reminded me of the past few years. I gladly got rid of everything that I shared with Abigail, and kicking and screaming got rid of the last things that I shared with Caitlin. The only thing involving her that I kept was a picture that my father had taken of us at graduation. Our arms were around each other and we held our diplomas in the air. Standing behind us and hugging both of us was Dennis Michaels. When I saw the picture for the first time in the 11 years it had been since Caitlin and I had broken up, I didn’t know what to think. On one hand, that super nice guy had helped me get exactly what I wanted back in high school. However, that led me to exactly where I was now, alone. My relationship with Caitlin had been painful. And then Abigail had caught me in that pain and taken advantage of it. It had been nine years of fake love and pain. If it hadn’t been for that bicycle accident with Jill ending a year of isolation, I’d probably be miserable. But though I was alone, the last seven years had been good. With friends that really cared and no pressure to make anyone else happy, I had actually learned who I wanted to be and what I wanted to do with my life. I couldn’t blame Dennis for how my life was today. How was he to know that getting what I wanted would hurt so much? We had all been teenagers—me, Dennis, Caitlin, Jill. None of us had really known anything. We just did the best we could to try to be happy, and in Dennis’ case to try to make other people happy. Though the decisions of our youth are visited upon us as adults, we can’t hold ourselves responsible for any mistakes we made. It may be unfair that the decisions we make that have the biggest impact on our lives are the ones we make with no experience. As they say, youth is wasted on the young. And whenever things get bad, it’s never too late to go in a new direction. I took the picture and I packed it away in a box of mementos that I knew I wouldn’t open anytime soon. I quickly sent off an email to my parents asking if they had any of my old prom pictures left. Knowing what somebody who barely knew me did try to help me be happy made me smile bigger than I had in years. I decided that I needed to have a reminder of this nice guy who, though his time in my life was fleeting, had a bigger impact than he could ever have imagined. What I really needed though was a reminder that didn’t have Caitlin in it. Public schools are bureaucracies; one should always remember that. And like all bureaucracies things often get screwed up. It turned out that my paperwork was totally screwed up, and it took the better part of the summer to get everything worked out. So by the time I finally got through my orientation and was able to set up my office, it was already the week leading up to the first day of school. The only thing I had been able to do was brush up on the cases of some of the most high risk students. I hadn’t even been able to read through the names of all the teachers. In fact, the only thing I really knew about any of the teachers was that the faculty morale was at a low point. It had nothing to do with the district or the students. It was because one of the most popular teachers, a really nice guy, had just been left by his wife. He was now a struggling single dad with three young children. Needless to say, I was worried about how it would go when I had a first meeting with the sports coaches. High school athletes often have special concerns the counselor needs to deal with. Not only do they face the pressures of sports, but many feel pressure to use steroids or other performance-enhancing substances. The really good ones have to deal with choosing whether they want to do sports and colleges. When you’re a counselor the biggest ally you need in helping these kids are their coaches. My mentor had told me that this was usually one of the most difficult groups to actually get help from, and when I found out that the teacher in question was the baseball coach I was convinced the first meeting would not go well. When I walked into the faculty room, there were a bunch of men and women standing around, with one guy slumped back in a chair. They all seemed concerned, even a little angry. I wasn’t sure anybody had even seen me, as they just kept talking as the door closed. Suddenly I was thrown back to my high school days, when I could be in a room and nobody even noticed me and then was slapped in the face by being involved with women to whom I didn’t even matter, I felt like crying. But then I got a good look at the man slumped over in the chair. Even sitting down he looked tall, and though approaching middle age he seemed to have a good body. When I caught a glimpse of his blue eyes, I knew who he was. When he suddenly threw his hands up over his eyes and asked if there was anyone who would be able to give him the help he needed right now, it was only natural for me to say, “Yes, Dennis. I will.” “Vicki? Vicki Jackson?” Dennis asked looking up from the chair. When I nodded that I was, he flew across the room and hugged me. “Vicki, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything that happened. If I had known what she was going to do, I never would’ve gotten you two together.” It was inconceivable. A man who had just been left by his wife and didn’t know what he was going to do to keep his life together was apologizing to me for introducing me to the girl that I wanted to be with. He might look 17 years older than when I saw him last, but he hadn’t changed. He was thinking about me more than himself. I hugged him back and whispered, “Anything you need.” Of course, I really didn’t know anything about how to help Dennis, so I let him take the lead. For the first few months of being friends again, I just let him talk. He let me know what had happened in his life. After high school he had been drafted by a major league baseball team and unfortunately got stalled in single A level ball. His fourth year, he was playing for a team here on the Eastern shore and decided to call it quits. He still loved baseball and wanted to stay involved. At the same time, he decided he needed a real job. So, he decided to marry those goals by going to one of the universities nearby and studying education. When he graduated there was an opening at one of the high schools nearby and within a few years he was teaching history and coaching the junior varsity team. Just after he had started, he met one of the local women. They hit it off pretty well, and became very comfortable with each other. Eventually, they decided to get married. He said it was like marrying his best friend. Things were fine until their third child was born, when his wife began to grow distant. They plodded on for a few more years with Dennis gradually taking over more of the home and childcare responsibilities. His wife on the other hand decided she needed to have getaway weekends. Though he was concerned that she might be cheating, he thought if he gave her space whatever was going on would pass. Then a few months ago he came home to a note, saying that she had been living a lie with him, but after reading a book—Catlin’s book—she realized she needed to be honest with herself and him. She was moving away to start a new life and didn’t want him or the children to contact her. Rather than tell anybody the truth, he told people she ran away with another guy. He thought that as bad as being cuckold would look, it would look even worse if he had married a lesbian. Though I could sympathize with his soon-to-be ex-wife’s feelings, I also understood how hard it was to be left, especially when you feel like everything had been a lie. That’s how Caitlin made me feel when I heard what was in her book—that goddamn book. Luckily, when I let him know that I could relate he didn’t feel as if I was belittling his feelings at all. Instead, he wanted me to talk about how I felt first when Caitlin left and then when I heard about her perspective in the book. He was aghast when I told him about the reading and her attitude afterwards. The hardest part of our discussions, though, was when he would ask what he could’ve done to make his wife a lesbian. As much as I tried to tell him that people were probably born gay and that no matter how hard you try they’re never going to be able to change. No matter how great a guy he was, she would have always been who she turned out to be. I let him know that even with all the heartache Caitlin and Abigail had given me, I considered myself lucky. I had always known who I was and never tried to pretend I was anyone other than that. I don’t know whether he started to believe me in the next few months or whether he just began to numb, but he seemed better about it. As the school year continued I arranged my sessions so we could eat lunch together. It was great to have a friend to talk to, sort of a male version of Jill. What was even better was that there was no talk or rumors. To the other teachers and his friends, Dennis had always said one of the things he had done that he was most proud of was setting up Caitlin and me. Hence, everybody knew I was a lesbian before I even walked in the door. And no matter what anybody thought about me or my orientation, if Dennis Michaels considered me a friend I was a good person. Autumn ended, and winter came. Instead of getting bored with each other, Dennis and my friendship continued to grow. When a freak December snowstorm prevented my parents from coming down for Christmas, Dennis was good enough to invite me to celebrate with him and his children. So Christmas morning was the first time I got to meet nine-year-old Davey, seven-year-old Samantha, and five-year-old Norman. We spent the day with the children opening presents in front of a roaring fire, while Dennis and I drank mulled wine and cider. It was such a good day, that I stayed around talking with him after the little ones had already passed out from sugar and excitement. I had still never thought about having children myself, after all I was still a lesbian, but I didn’t mind being around his kids. Each of them had a most wonderful personality. Davey was a carbon copy of his father, polite, helpful, and always thinking of other people. Samantha, or Sam as she preferred, was the hyperactive middle child always seeking attention. She played baseball like her father did and maintained that she would not switch to softball. Norman was quiet, the kind of kid that took everything in and knew exactly what was going on. Whenever I would go to their house I wanted to stay longer and longer so I could have just a little bit of time with each of them. When baseball season started, I happily volunteered to do the pickups after school, to make dinner, and to start the kids on their homework. I really had no idea what I was doing. While I could manage students in a classroom, I was clueless when it came to managing their lives around the home. And I wasn’t a very good cook either. All I could really do, was listen to how their days were, answer homework questions if I could, and be a playmate if that’s all that was needed. Though I usually felt flustered by the time Dennis got home, I never minded staying. On the personal level I made new friends. They were mostly other teachers and people I met through them, but eventually I had a small group of positive affirming people around me. Every so often I would still go back to Baltimore to visit Jill, and even convinced her to bring her family out to visit me. She was shocked to find out that I was hanging out with Dennis so much. And I think she almost passed out when she found out the role I was playing in his children’s lives. She warned me to make sure I knew what I was doing, as the kids were probably too young to understand that no matter how well we got along I would never be interested in their father. Though I assured her I knew what I was doing, in reality I wondered what was going on. I was finally at a point in my life I should be pursuing the things I really wanted, but instead I wanted to spend time with this guy and his children. On the relationship front, my life began to look up as well. I met a woman who was a professor at one of the local colleges. She was a few years younger than me, and just as in-your-face a lesbian as I had been when I first went to college. The great thing about the relationship was that she didn’t pressure me for sex. I had only been with two people in my life, and had gotten terribly hurt by both of them. When I said that I wanted to make sure the relationship was real and was going to last before we had sex, she understood. I don’t know how long she thought she would end up waiting, but I kept making her wait. Even with romantic weekends and such, my attention was never fully on her. I found myself calling Dennis to see how he was doing when I was away. Once I even insisted we cancel a day trip because Norman was sick and I wanted to help out. At first my girlfriend made jokes about whether I was really a lesbian. Eventually though, she got accusatory, saying that I was in love with Dennis. One night two years into our relationship I tried to explain that I liked being around him because he treated everybody so well, and that he was a good father, and that I couldn’t think of anybody I admired more than him. When she shot back that it sounded like I was describing my dream lover, I tried to make her see that with what Dennis had done for me back in high school the least I could do was to help him now. Finally, she screamed that I should just go ahead and marry him. Then she packed her things and left. I wasn’t devastated; I wasn’t even numb; but I did want somebody to talk to. So late at night, well after his bedtime, I’ve drove to Dennis’s house. I didn’t bother to call him until I was standing on his porch, mobile phone in one hand knocking on the door with the other. Without question or a angry word, my old friend let me into his house and stayed up most of the night with me drinking tea and talking. We didn’t talk much about the breakup. It didn’t really feel all that important for me to talk about. What was most interesting to both of us was the cause. Not only had my girlfriend noticed how much time we are spending together, but some of her other friends thought it was a little weird too. We laughed agreeing that maybe we couldn’t even understand our friendship. In as much as I leaned on Dennis, I was there for him to lean on when he needed somebody as well. About four years after she left, his ex-wife contacted him. She had finally figured things out and was ready to be back involved in the children’s lives. She was indeed a lesbian, and was living with a woman near Philadelphia. After a few months of negotiations, we agreed to let the children spend the weekend with them. We met at the travel plaza in Delaware to shuttle the children between cars. As his ex-wife, her girlfriend, and his children pulled away I could tell he was tense. For some reason it felt natural for me to take his hand in mine. Our fingers intertwined and we held hands as something other than friends. I was even more shocked to find myself embracing him leaning my head against his chest and telling him it would be okay. It did not even feel weird when we held hands most of the way home. That night I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t know what was going on with myself. I had just shared a stressful but then tender trip with the man who was my best friend. He was a man who I wanted to be around all the time, whose children I wanted to have as part of my life. I respected him and couldn’t stand it when I wasn’t around him. But something was wrong with it; I wasn’t supposed to feel about a man that way. I was a lesbian! I went to the Internet and started looking at porn. I thought that may be over the years I had missed something. Maybe I really did like men in one way or another. But it wasn’t true; some of the men’s bodies I saw did nothing for me, but many outright disgusted me. The women on the other hand got me excited. Black ones, white ones; young ones, middle-aged ones; small ones, big ones; it didn’t matter they all excited me. Back in bed, I masturbated thinking about all the women in different shapes, colors, and sizes, about how beautiful their bodies were. I got myself off to a very satisfying orgasm. As I was coming down from the high, I leaned over to cuddle with my pillow. As I nuzzled it, my mind drifted to Dennis and I pretended it was him. When I realized what I was doing I started to cry. I had no idea what was going on or where these feelings were coming from. All I knew was that I wanted to be with him right now. The next day I casually called Dennis under the pretense of seeing if he was doing OK. I was almost happy that he seemed a little down because I didn’t feel guilty when I offered to hang out. We ended up going to the mall together, as we each could stand to pick up a few things for around the house. Though everything seemed normal for Dennis, I swung between feeling comfortable and awkward. When we sat and talked everything was fine, and I felt about the same as I always did when we hung out. But then I noticed little things, like how I would stand a little closer to him than I used to, or like how I couldn’t help smiling whenever I looked up at his eyes. It was driving me crazy it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. And then with the most unexpected event, the die was cast. As we walked out of one of the department stores, we saw a young couple yelling at each other. As people moved away, I noticed Dennis inching towards them. When the woman slapped the guy in the face, he pulled his hand back to hit her. But then in the second Dennis was between them. He strongly suggested that the woman leave, and told the guy he wanted to talk to him. Over the next few hours I sat with Dennis and this young guy he had never met while they talked about everything that was wrong in the guy’s life. He had been a high school football star but had gotten his girlfriend, the woman who had slapped him, pregnant. He had wanted to go to college or maybe join the military, anything but end up in a small town doing some kind of menial work. Instead, they ended up here with him repairing farm equipment. I could tell that though he was only in his early 20s, this guy was already a shell of a man. Most people would politely listen for a while, then given some platitudes about how life always gets better, and sent the guy on his way, but that’s not what Dennis did. Instead, I sat there while this remarkable man talked through possibilities that the guy could do with his life. They worked out small steps and big steps that he could take. And Dennis also had him take into account the things his wife wanted to do. By the time we dropped the guy off at their trailer, he had a smile on his face and was actually excited to go inside and talk to his wife. Sitting in the passenger seat of the car, I knew I wanted this man. I wasn’t lusting after him like I might after a woman. What I wanted was to have him inside of me, to possess part of him, to hold him in the most intimate way hoping that a part of who he was would stay inside of me. I didn’t know how to go about seducing a man but I knew that this afternoon was going to be my first. When we walked inside the front door of Dennis’s house, I decided to make my move. After we had both slipped off our shoes I put my arms around him and pulled him towards me. Then standing on my toes I leaned up and kissed him on the lips. His face was scratchy which I didn’t like, but when our lips touched I knew I wanted to keep going. When I pulled back Dennis was in shock. When he asked me what I was doing, I was honest and told him I didn’t know I just knew that I needed him. Stammering over his words he said that he had developed feelings for me a few years ago, but he had thought I was a lesbian. I started to cry telling him that I was one, and that men’s bodies still did nothing for me. Except his—well, not his body—there was something about him that made me want to be with him. I wasn’t attracted to his body, I was attracted to who he was, the person who had been willing to help Caitlin and me back in high school, who was a great teacher, a great father, a great so many things, a guy so good that he would even spend hours trying to help a young man he didn’t even know. That’s what I wanted. That’s when I realized I had fallen in love with. I ended up having to plead a little bit more, but finally Dennis relented and quietly led me to his bedroom. There standing next to his bed, we kissed not with lust or passion, but with the desperation of two people who want to be joined together. It transcended gender, sex, or orientation. It was two souls that wanted to be part of each other. In general, I let Dennis take the lead, but for some things I coached him. I think we were both aware that if I were to enjoy this on a physical level we would need to be creative. After all I was a lesbian and was attracted to women. Dennis was understanding, and while I lay naked next to him under the covers of his bed he let me guide his fingers on how to play with my clit while he asked me to describe the kind of women I liked. His gentle understanding voice made me feel that it was okay to be fantasizing about women even though I was with him. As he got better at pleasuring me the excitement began to build. Though I was thinking about numerous at girls, it was him telling me how glad he was to have me in his life that sent me into an orgasm. I knew it was his turn now. I was nervous almost to the point of shaking. I remembered back in high school a girl saying that the first time hurt, I also couldn’t picture having a man inside of me. But Dennis was different. When I looked at his penis it didn’t seem like the appendages stuck on men I saw in pornography. It looked like a part of him, a natural extension of his body, one that would fit inside of me. It wasn’t Dennis’s cock that would be inside of me, it was simply Dennis, the whole man. Quietly, he asked if I was ready. With a gulp I said that I was. Luckily, I was still wet from my orgasm and my hymen must have been broken somewhere along the way, because Dennis was able to slowly slide himself inside of me. For a little while it did hurt, but then it just felt weird. Another person was inside of me moving in and out, sometimes gently, sometimes hard, but always inside. In the abstract, the idea was disgusting. But looking at Dennis’s face and knowing that it was him inside of me and that he was enjoying it made me want it more than anything else. Eventually, I wrapped my legs around his back and hugged him tightly around the chest. I wanted him pressed against me, on top of me, inside of me. I just wanted to be one with this wonderful, wonderful man. It wasn’t the feeling of the movement that did it for me, but when I saw the satisfaction on his face as he started to come inside of me, I had another orgasm. It was much smaller, but it meant so much more. After getting cleaned up we decided to drive to Annapolis for dinner. At a nice little restaurant overlooking the bay, we discussed where things were going to go from there. By the time we had finished our after dinner drinks, we agreed we would take a chance. Dennis would marry another lesbian, and I would commit to spending my life with the man. I wouldn’t change who I was, I couldn’t if I tried. But we were both ready to commit to each other and hope for the best. Needless to say, people were shocked when we told them. After a while though, in a weird way it made sense to most of them. In fact, most of our friends said that if I wasn’t a lesbian we would have gotten married years before. The children reacted well too, being incredibly happy to have me there all the time. They loved me as much is I loved them. They were aware that there was something different about the relationship their father and stepmother had, but they were willing to accept it for what it was. I can’t say everything is easy. Outside of the bedroom things go very well. In a lot of ways, we complement each other where one’s strength around the house or with the children covers the others weakness. Intimacy is also easy we share our feelings very well and most of the time I want to have my arms wrapped around the wonderful person to whom I am married. The only problem is sex. Often, just my touch excites Dennis, which becomes a problem because I always want to be hugging him and cuddling with him. But sometimes it’s very hard to get in the mood. Even talking about beautiful women or watching lesbian porn cannot always get me to a state or I can have him inside me. But we’ve worked to find a middle ground. When I can’t get in the mood for sex, I’ll give him a hand job. If he doesn’t think that will be enough I’ll give him a blow job, though I don’t really like doing it. On rare occasions, I have even used enough lube so he could get inside of me even though I didn’t really want him in there. Those times, I told him to just hold me down and fuck me until he was done no matter how long it took. And while he goes in and out of me I just simply think about why am doing it and who I am doing it for. The more I think about that the easier it is, and one of those times I even ended up having a huge orgasm just knowing that I was making myself available to him. I’m a lesbian. I was born one; I came of age as one; and I will always be one. Being married to and in love with this man, Dennis Michaels, does not change that. If he was not in my life there would be a woman or there would be nobody. He just happens to be the person I connected with on levels people are not supposed to connect on. It’s that connection and the respect I have for him that make him the exception to the rule. I like women, but I also like him. I am a lesbian, he is my plus one. -End Story- Check out my other work at: www.asstr.org/~Secret_DC_Guy -------------------------------------------------------- This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life in any way, shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of the scenarios in this story should seriously consider seeking professional help. -------------------------------------------------------- Kristen's collection - Directory 83