Glitter. Real Stories About Sexual Desire From Real Women (3 page)

Fire Truck!

Belle

I’m your average: customer service worker, married, mid-thirties, two kids and infertile.

I was never a whore in the classic sense of the word. Ex-boyfriends and ex-lovers were always my kryptonite.
 I met my first "boyfriend," ‘C’, online way before it was socially acceptable to do so. My mom let us go to the movies while she sat in the back. I was thirteen. Nothing happened then. My first school boyfriend was the popular guy. The class clown. I was fourteen, twenty-eight days away from being fifteen when I lost my virginity to him. A serious boyfriend followed and there was nothing too exciting sexually up until this point.

I always loved having a story.
 Being able to say “yeah, I fucked him,” or “yeah, I totally had sex while driving.” I loved older guys, guys at least five years older than me. My girlfriends and I always talked openly about our conquests, there was even one summer we all had sex in the same room almost every night. I am proud to say that I took three men’s virginities, that I'm aware of.

There wasn't an insane amount of men before I got married but I feel I had my share.

The one with the penis so small & the ego so big. This one got mad when we broke up so I called him at two a.m., woke him up and told him his dick was the smallest thing I had ever seen.

And it was.

The one who literally lasted ten seconds one time and should not count against my total. Amusingly, he knows my husband and I still run into him from time to time.

He really shouldn't count.

The guy my best friend was fucking with a fourteen-inch dick.

It was so big she made him take it out and show me.

It wa
s
amazin
g
.

The first boyfriend who became a fuck buddy. Someone to call on a lonely Friday night. He was the first man I was fucking but had no desire to date.
 He always wanted to cuddle after sex and I used to lie and leave my apartment and drive around the block so he would go home.

The boyfriend with the uncut dick I was afraid of and then realized how wonderful it was.

And how wonderful he wasn't.

The gay best friend who taught me how to give a really good blow job and how to have not painful anal sex.

The fuck buddy who was my first and only threesome. He fucked me doggie style in my best friend’s closet while I blew his friend. Wonder why he never wanted to date me. :)

The year before I met my husband I had sex with four of my exes, going all the way back to the one who took my virginity. It was as if somehow I knew the next boyfriend was it and that this was my last opportunity.

I'm a faithful person. Now that I'm married and have been with my husband for over ten years it’s no longer about the conquests but about how to make it interesting. We pride ourselves in unusual places. I gave him a hand job on an airplane in our seats with my father and brother seated behind us. In a fire truck. On the beach. On the hood of my car.

I often wonder what happens as we age and grow as a couple.

Will unusual places be enough?

Will porn and thongs and dildos be enough?

I can't imagine ever fucking or doing anything like that behind his back. I could however imagine it being done with his knowledge. With him watching? With me watching? I don't consider a hand job cheating, and I wouldn't be mad if he got one. I'm not sure if he ever would.

I look forward to our sexual future and I hope it’s as exciting as I imagine it could be.

Just Curious

Krissy

I’m a curious southern girl stuck in Small Town rural Texas.
I was born in 1989. That puts me at age twenty three. Fairly young but old enough that I’m just starting to get really comfortable with being open about my sexuality, even if things are a bit...confusing.
 

The lines of my sexual orientation are blurry at best.
 I’ve been married to a wonderful man for a couple of years now. I love him to death and the sex is absolutely amazing. But sometimes I really feel like I’m missing out on something that could be equally amazing, something that could fulfill this need that’s lurking around within me. Let’s backtrack to my childhood.

I’ve always felt a lot of confusion when it comes to girls. It sounds so cliché, I know, but it’s entirely true. At age five, I can remember thinking that my best friend was the prettiest girl I knew. At age seven, I remember having a crush on my female teacher. Things started to get murkier around age eight or nine. I was spending the night with a new, slightly older friend. She was about eleven, I think. Things were just like any other sleepover, until we crawled into bed for the night.

It’s hard to remember exactly how things like that start, especially since it happened so long ago. Mainly I remember being in bed with the lights off and her saying something about kissing and how she really liked to do it. Before I knew it our lips were pressed together. I had never felt anything like it. It was sensational! Being in the dark, doing something I’d never done before, with someone I wasn’t even sure I was allowed to be doing it with.

After a few seconds she pulled away and stared at me.
 It was about a minute before she spoke.

“Do you want to do it again?” she asked.

I nodded.

This time I was ready.

I only thought I was ready. She blew my mind even further on the second kiss. Our lips met, but this time she opened her mouth! I could feel her tongue trying to reach mine. I went with it. It was even more exhilarating than the one before. This felt so much more intimate, although I’m not sure I would’ve been able to describe that feeling back then. This time, I could feel exactly how soft her lips were. I could taste the lingering minty freshness of her toothpaste. Could feel her breathing heavily. I put my hand in her thick chestnut hair like I saw in the movies. It was so soft. I recall wishing it never had to end.

That was my first and only experience with kissing for a long time to come.

A few years went by and things were normal, mostly. I had crushes on boys and celebrities just like any other preteen girl. Boys invited me to dances, where we’d spin slowly on the floor and maybe hold hands. Afterwards I’d go spend the night with one of my girl friends. Nothing unusual ever really happened with many of them.

There was one friend that always wanted to shower together. She was cute, so I didn’t turn her down. We never did anything, not even one little touch. Just washed up together, but it was very fun and exciting to see her like that. Sadly one of my many missed opportunities.

At age fifteen I got my first boyfriend and first real kiss from a boy. In that regard, I guess you could call me kind of a late bloomer. At least in comparison to all the rest of my friends. It wasn’t that I didn’t have anyone interested in me, I just wasn’t very interested in any of them.

He was a nice boy. A bit punk rock, which is a type I still go for today, but very smart, respectful, and above all, hilarious.
 I liked him a lot, and we spent the first few weeks kissing like there was no tomorrow. Things were rolling right along, progressing both emotionally and physically. After hearing so many horror stories, I didn’t want to get too physical without proof that we were pretty serious, relationship wise. Everything really got moving once he said he loved me.

The kissing was fun and it felt nice, but not as exciting as I remembered it to be.
 Lots of tongue and wetness and slurping sounds. Touching and being touched was infinitely more arousing. No one had ever touched me before. It was like a learning experience for my senses. Together we discovered that my breasts, especially my nipples, were very sensitive to being touched by hands that weren’t my own. With him, I achieved my first orgasm that wasn’t given to me by yours truly. I loved every bit of attention I was receiving. It felt good, and I was in love.

I also learned a lot about giving attention. His penis was the first I’d seen in real life. It seemed big in my hands, and was very smooth. I was a little disappointed though, because it didn’t seem as erotic as I thought it would.
 It didn’t excite me to play with it like it excited me to be played with. But I loved him, so I learned what to do and how he liked it anyways. Even though it didn’t turn me on like I had hoped, I still felt a kind of satisfaction in giving him pleasure.

We moved on to oral sex soon, and I was unimpressed with both ends of it.
 I felt self-conscious when he was down there. What if it smelled weird? What if I tasted bad? It’s really difficult to enjoy yourself when you’re so worried about not being good enough. Giving wasn’t much better. I wasn’t sure what to do with my mouth. I gagged often.

We dated for two years. Things never did progress to penetration. We tried it once, but I wasn’t ready. I was nervous. I wasn’t in the mood. I wasn’t even wet. He tried pushing into me. Slowly, but it hurt anyway. Thankfully he stopped when I asked him to. Looking back, I have mixed feelings about waiting. On the one hand, I wasn’t truly ready for sex. On the other, we really did love each other, which is something I’m not sure I can say about the guy I did lose my virginity to.

I was eighteen, in my first semester of my freshman year of college, and still a virgin. I was making friends, going to parties and drinking lots of beer. One night my roommate and I were at a frat party. It was pretty laid back, just a bunch of guys and a couple of us girls sitting around a fire outside the house. A nice change from the big house parties and after-parties we were used to going to. After an hour or two and a few beers, the cute girl from my math class showed up. It turns out she was friends with a few of the same guys, we just didn’t know it until she showed up at the party.

Looking around, there was nowhere for her to sit. All of the chairs and makeshift seats were already taken. She was across the fire from me, peering around, hoping for someone to get up. She noticed me. I waved hello and got a big smile in return. To my surprise, she came over and sat down on my lap. Having another girl sit on my lap wasn’t too unusual for me, but normally it was someone I was already good friends with. We were just kind of acquaintances.

I remember her being very light. Lighter than I expected her to be. It didn’t feel at all uncomfortable to have her there. After a few minutes we were talking and laughing it up and most of the guys had stopped staring at us. She picked up the giant purse she’d brought with her and pulled out a mostly empty bottle of Smirnoff vodka. The night was getting colder, and she seemed to nestle into me a little. It made my heart skip a beat for her to be so close to me. I wasn’t sure, but it felt so much like she wanted to be there. I liked it.

By the end of the night I was very drunk, and I’d grown to like her a lot. We’d shared most of the vodka and several very steamy kisses by the fire.
 And right there in front of everyone, too! I have to admit, nobody really seemed to mind that sight, and I wasn’t averse to letting it happen.

When she asked if I wanted to go back to her place, I didn’t hesitate. Her behavior and the vodka had me riled up and I was ready for whatever was about to happen. We made the five minute drive in her 2007 Mustang back to her little efficiency apartment. Every second in that car felt like electricity between us. Was I really about to live out one of my longest running fantasies?
 Before I’d even had sex with a boy?! I was, and I was excited.

We pulled into her assigned parking spot and got out of the car. She unlocked the door and we practically fell inside kissing. We shut the door behind us, clothes dropping to the floor as we moved back to the bed. She removed my bra and hers and we were both down to our panties.
 Embarrassingly enough, I still had my socks on. It’s one of those little details that I’m sure I’ll never forget. Her soft, smooth, small hands felt like heaven against my skin. 

She was beautiful to me, even with the lights off.
 Her shoulder length brown hair with its subtle highlights felt fluid and silky in my fingers. Big brown doe eyes opposite my blue ones, both filled with lust. The little bit of moonlight that was filtering in through the curtains made her skin look creamy and delicate.

At this point, I was still very drunk. I heard the door open.
 One of the frat boys was there. It seemed like she was expecting him, so I wasn’t alarmed. In fact, I was intrigued. The night was taking yet another unexpected turn.

She motioned for him to come into bed with us. A tiny part of my brain was telling me that maybe losing my virginity in a threesome wasn’t the best idea.
 The heat between my legs was telling me otherwise.

He came to me first, removing his clothes as he kissed me and moved us into a laying position. I’m not sure which of them removed my panties, but two sets of fingers found me. We spent a few minutes this way, kissing each other and them touching me. She told him to move aside, that she wanted me to herself for a few minutes.
 I wasn’t sad about it. I liked her better. She was pretty and funny and her hands were softer and knew exactly where to touch.

I wish I could say that we continued into the night, but the alcohol got the best of me.
 My stomach was not having any more of this laying down business, even if the rest of me was burning to keep going. I ended up being sick and had to call another friend to come and get me. No virginities were lost that night.

That was my biggest and best experience with another girl to date.
 Looking back, I regret having had so much to drink. I often wonder what exactly would’ve happened if I had been able to stay. How would things be different today, if at all?

I ended up losing my virginity a couple of months later. It was with a guy I had started dating very shortly after the last incident.
 He had a bit of a reputation for sleeping around, but said that I was different. He said he wanted to treat me with care because I was a virgin. He didn’t want to take that from me if it wasn’t what I wanted. We thought we loved each other, so we did it.

I wish I could say it was memorable for all of the right reasons, but for the most part, it was one big let-down.
 It took us forever to get my roommate to leave, and then we realized that we didn’t have a condom. A trip to the gas station was made. We got back and rushed to get started. It was over in less than five minutes. And it hurt. After the events and excitement of the last few months, I had been hoping for a much more enjoyable time. We dated for a while after that. Not one single time did he concern himself with my pleasure. In the following years, I’d have a few more sexual encounters, but nothing really worth mentioning.

Today, I’m
 married to a great guy that I’ve known my entire life. We go together like peanut butter and jelly. I enjoy being married, and I’m very happy, but I feel like I’ve missed out on experiencing what I desire. We’ve discussed it, and he is open to me experimenting if I can find the right girl who’s up for the task. The one problem with that is that I’m not sure how to go about finding her.

First of all, I’m married. That’s pretty off-putting for the majority of people. They see it as wrong. It’s hard to explain that it’s something my husband and I have agreed on in a way that they can understand and justify to themselves.
 It would be easier to pick some girl up at a bar, but I wouldn’t want to be her drunken regret, for any reason.

Secondly, it’s a lot more difficult than you might think to find a girl who is interested in a physical same sex relationship. Sure, a lot of girls my age will kiss other girls, but in my experience it’s more of a ‘party trick’ for them.
 Not something they’d like to pursue further. I find that misleading, and trying to make my next move often ends up ruining what was, or what could have been, a good and lasting friendship.

Looking back, and while writing this, I’ve come to realize that my experiences with girls have been fueled by lust and physical attraction, while most of my encounters with men have been based on emotion. I’m not saying I could never form an emotional connection with another girl, but I will say that I don’t know what this discovery says about myself.
 At times I’m still confused about where I stand sexually. Even though I’ve discussed it with my husband, it’s hard to decide how I should go about figuring it out. Hopefully I will be able to make some decisions and find a girl who can help me in my quest for self-discovery. Until then, I’ll keep fantasizing.