Hotel Bliss Guest Blog

And Then There Were Two, Chapter 3 - A Little Patience for Spanking the Intellect

Darling Readers, Miss V. returns with Chapter 3 of her serialized true story, “And Then There Were Two.” If you missed Chapter One, CLICK HERE and if you missed Chapter Two, CLICK HERE. Enjoy! XXOXOXOXOOX BLISS WARRIOR

CHAPTER THREE - A LITTLE PATIENCE FOR SPANKING THE INTELLECT

The next morning, sitting at the table with Gemma as Marcus made breakfast I was struck by how normal this all seemed. In a sleepy haze I sipped deeply from my mug of steaming, sweet, milky tea. Conversation flew around the room as I welcomed the eggs Marcus placed in front of me. We gossiped, we laughed; we discussed how The Terminator could become the governor of a state and marveled at the likelihood that Bush would again be president and noted that the word ‘bush’ was too good a word to be wasted on such a man. When I first arrived in London the question I constantly fielded was about the Terminator/governor situation but now the pendulum was swinging and focus was steadfastly fixing on the president or lack of one, depending. As we finished our food, plans for the day were being made according to schedules and locale. I only knew I was going to be dropped at Waterloo as it was en route to everyone’s final destination and I could from there catch the subway back to my apartment.

In the end, clearly, I had missed the final train the night before. Marcus had warmly welcomed me into his home as though this were the most ordinary scenario imaginable. Gemma got up and poured a fresh glass of red for our host. When she returned to her seat her bare leg rejoined mine and we three settled into an easy rapport. Louis was and remained our common thread. Although there was the shared unspoken knowledge about what would most likely unfold between Gemma and myself that night, his presence was never dismissed or disregarded or equally important, used.

The softness of the summer night enveloped us all until a late hour urged us to climb the stairs. As Gemma closed the door to our room, I could hear Marcus climb one more flight to his directly above ours. In the darkness I felt her fingertips dancing across my back gently searching for then finding the clasp of my bra…

The mercurial nature of our connection dictates a need to elaborate on the mechanics or developing infrastructure of this impending romance. Gemma and I both were committed to our personal lives outside of the curious bubble we had found ourselves in. In a reverence and profound respect for other hearts we held in our hands, we forged an unspoken understanding to not in any way flaunt our growing sexual connection. There was a time and place for our explorations with each other and to that end we kept a firm restraint over our inclinations and kept them discreetly away from the eyes of others. This was all very British of us, or French, I still can’t decide. We were finding our way to a balance anchored in total honesty and care while still honoring the journey she and I so clearly needed to take.

After breakfast, as we sped through the streets of London towards Waterloo my thoughts traveled back to the previous night and I wondered, had Marcus been able to hear Gemma and I l?
A blush and a smile privately spread over my cheeks and lips…

XOXO
V
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IF YOU ENJOYED OUR GUEST BLOGGER’S WORK, YOU MAY ENJOY READING WORK FROM:
JUNGLE JANE:
CRUSHING ON THE TAKEN GIRL: A BABY BI-GIRL SHARES HER STORY
A GIRL’S FIRST VIBRATOR: A BABY BI-GIRL SHARES HER STORY
GETTING HER NUMBER: A BABY BI-GIRL SHARES HER STORY
A BABY BI-GIRL SHARES HER STORY
DAPHNE:
PLAYING WITH GENDER: DAPHNE STRAPS IT ON FOR HER MAN
TIE ME UP, TIE ME DOWN: A BI-GIRL SHARES HER FIRST S&M EXPERIENCE
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THIS WEEK ON BLISS WARRIOR:
WEDNESDAY - TALES FROM TORONTO, PART 2 - More stories from the first fantastic international Bliss Brunch
THURSDAY - THE BEST FROM THE HOTEL BLISS GUEST BLOG - Read what other bi-girls are writing!
FRIDAY - SPIN THE BOTTLE, PART 2 - Bliss brings you the second part of this Friday Night Bedtime Story.
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ON A SIDE NOTE:
DARLING, DEDICATED READERS - THANKS TO YOUR SUPPORT, BLISS WARRIOR HAS GONE FROM BEING THE 800,000TH MOST POPULAR BLOG IN NOVEMBER 2007 (I KNOW, WHO KNEW THERE WERE SO MANY BLOGS OUT THERE?) TO NOW RANKING 54,002! THANKS TO ALL OF YOU, WE HAVE JUMPED 750,000 SPOTS IN THE LAST 8 MONTHS. A SPECIAL THANK YOU TO THE WONDERFUL EDITORS AT SUGASM FOR HELPING MAKE BLISS WARRIOR BE SEEN BY THOUSANDS OF NEW READERS EACH MONTH AND TO CHRISTIAN AND JUNGLE JANE FOR THEIR WORK AND UNTIRING FAITH IN THIS PROJECT. XOXOXOXO BLISS ****************************************************************************************************
HEY NEW YORKERS!!! BLISS IS COMING TO NEW YORK FOR BI PRIDE. SHALL WE GET A GROUP TOGETHER FOR THE PARADE? XOXOXOXOX
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AND THEN THERE WERE TWO - CHAPTER TWO

Dearest Readers, This is chapter two in our guest blogger, V.’s, serialized blog about her and her man, and the women he introduced her to. If you missed Chapter One, CLICK HERE. Enjoy!
XOXXOXOXO BLISS WARRIOR

As I traveled beneath the London streets towards Gemma’s dinner invitation, the cautionary ‘Mind the Gap’ announcement at each Tube stop suddenly resonated in a new profound way. A commonplace subway platform safety warning took on a whole new dimension. And then when considering those three words as it might apply to the body of a female, well my mind really began to wander. I was fidgeting and acutely aware of the upholstered subway seat against the backs of my thighs.

Because of the extreme expense of UK cell phone plans, texting is very big. Meaning I hadn’t actually heard Gemma’s voice since we had said our goodbyes four days prior. I only had the crafted phrasing of a few text messages guiding me into this unaccompanied encounter. Plus, most Brits even cloaked in an aura of general formality will after the briefest of connections sign off using an ‘x’ so at times it can be difficult to decipherer an intention.

At this point I knew by now what Louis’s ‘x’s’ meant by their number and if they appeared in lower or upper case. Even a mix of lower and upper case revealed a specific meaning. Louis was still away.

Was I heading towards a date or being blessed with a new friend, or both? Again, useless analyzing. I was meeting Gemma at the home of her friend where she stayed when in town- a place where I would eventually live, but that’s another story. His name and work were familiar to me but I had yet to meet him. Perhaps he would be home, perhaps not. In the end did it really matter? These thoughts, thoughts, more thoughts circling each other…

The subway service in London ends at midnight.

Finally I reached her stop and made my way out of the station and onto the street. My heart pounded as I found the house. I took a deep breath and rang the bell. There she was, smiles, hugs, bright eyes, and her spicy perfume. Awkwardness and a strange familiarity surrounded us as she led me into the kitchen. We exchanged benign pleasantries as she poured two glasses of ruby red wine. She reminded me of a pixie- tiny, bright, intense. After a tour of her friend’s home (he was out) we made our way to into a beautiful garden. Blooms, trees, and couple of statues looked on as we sat ourselves down on a sun bleached whicker bench. The air was soft and slightly cool.

Our conversation turned to common-ground, Louis. Gemma wanted to know our love story, so out it poured. She confided that for the first time in their five year long professional relationship, I was cause for him to reveal his innermost personal feelings. Being such a private man, she was stunned when Louis opened up to her. Apparently his heart and body hadn’t been hit so hard (no pun) in many a year provoking an immediate need to talk to someone. I blushed. Blushing is not something I tend to do but while unlocking such sexual freedom within me, his place in my heart apparently could now inspire deep crimson to creep into my cheeks.

Our conversation became one of shared secrets. Our loves, our pain, our sexual pasts and present as well as the challenge of current romantic entanglements. With her own revelations she was placing her trust in my hands so I would know with absolute certainty that I could trust her and that in that knowledge nothing I chose to reveal would cross her lips to another soul unless I so desired.

I have steadfastly come to believe that anything made for the cinema or stage only wishes it could come close to the true life stories which, if we allow, unfold before us everyday. The more we opened ourselves, the closer our bodies naturally moved towards each other. Because our conversation flowed so freely I hadn’t even noticed this until she got up to get more wine and the coolness of the air touched the warm place where her thigh had been resting against mine.

With full glasses in hand, she returned to the garden and the smooth skin of her leg rejoined mine. The talking continued as if we couldn’t say it all fast enough to one another and then in an unconscious move I felt her fingers on my neck as she rotated the clasp of my necklace back to its rightful place. With the light touch, tingles erupted throughout my body. Here’s the thing, a touch to any part of my back or neck will send my cognitive mind directly to a ‘time out’ and I sink into the warmth of sensation.

The sky was still light but stars had begun to glow through the waning daylight. Darkness was almost ready to eclipse the blue and I turned my head to look directly into her eyes. A moment passed and then another, utter stillness. I wasn’t even aware that her hand had slipped under my shirt until my nipple hardened to meet the tip of her finger. Her lips found mine while her finger continued to just barely touch my right nipple. The slowness of our kiss allowed me to taste the wine on her tongue and step inside her energy, to truly feel her, Gemma, her essence for the first time.

My hand had slightly parted her legs and so, so gently I took my fingers all the way up her thigh. Then we heard the front door close- Marcus was making his way out to greet us…

XOXO
V
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IF YOU ENJOYED THIS BLOG, YOU MAY ALSO ENJOY READING THESE TRUE TALES WRITTEN BY OUR FABULOUS GUEST BLOGGERS:
FROM JUNGLE JANE:
A GIRL’S FIRST VIBRATOR: A BABY BI-GIRL SHARES HER STORY
GETTING HER NUMBER: A BABY BI-GIRL SHARES HER STORY
A BABY BI-GIRL SHARES HER STORY
FROM DAPHNE:
PLAYING WITH GENDER: DAPHNE STRAPS IT ON FOR HER MAN
TIE ME UP, TIE ME DOWN: A BI-GIRL SHARES HER FIRST S&M EXPERIENCE
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HOTEL BLISS TESTERS: ARE YOU NOT ABLE TO LOG ON? SOME GIRLS ARE HAVING TROUBLE LOGGING BACK INTO HOTEL BLISS. IF THIS IS HAPPENING TO YOU, PLEASE E-MAIL ME AT BLISS@BLISSWARRIOR.COM. ALSO, IF YOU GO TO THE SITE ONLY TO FIND A WHITE, BLANK PAGE, THAT MEANS CHRISTIAN IS FIXING THE SITE AND IT SHOULD BE BACK UP WITHIN 15 MINUTES. XOXOXOXOXOXOXO BLISS
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GETTING HER NUMBER – A BABY BI-GIRL SHARES HER STORY

Darling Bliss Warriors, Our featured guest blogger, Jungle Jane, returns, sharing the true story of a baby bi-girl’s search for the perfect girl. Enjoy! XOXOXOXO BW

My favorite coffee/wine bar has the cutest barista named Violet. I’ve been several times and she’s always my server.

One night I visited the shop with three of my guy friends and, like always, Violet was our barista. She was wearing a black mini-skirt, black and white striped Alice in Wonderland socks, low-top black Chucks, librarian glasses, and a tight Led Zeppelin t-shirt that clung to her all natural, perfectly large breasts. Goodness, she was charming, vintage, and such fine service.

Our table of boys was slobbering and so was I. “Should I get her number,” I asked David.

“What are you my agent?” he snapped at me.

“Not for you, for me!” That was how I came out to my friend.

He looked at me with bug eyes and a surprised smile. “No, really? You wouldn’t, you couldn’t…”

“Watch me,” I said.

Violet came back to our table and I ordered a hot toddy, looking right into her eyes. The boys stumbled over their words as they tried desperately to hit on her.

“You’re into soccer,” David found out a piece of information about Violet. They’re all soccer players and immediately tried to convince her to join their team. She sweetly declined.

She came around my side of the table to ask how I liked my drink. “It’s good, huh,” she asked with prettiest smile.

“Very,” I said.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said.

“It’s made with Black Bush liquor. How could I not,” I asked flirtatiously.

She smiled big, flashing me her pearly whites. “Exactly. How could you not,” she said with a blush.

“You should come to the party on Friday,” I said.

“Yeah! The whole soccer crew will be there,” the boys jumped in.

“I tell you what. I’ll come if she calls to invite me.” She looked at me and asked, “Can I give you my number?”

“Please do,” I said, feeling all smooth in front of the sloppy boys. She smiled as she wrote her number on her pad and ripped it off and handed it to me. We watched her walk away to continue to do an amazing job serving her customers.

The boys turned and looked at me in amazement! It was just too easy.

I did call her. She didn’t answer so I left a message. She didn’t call till the next day to apologize about whatever came up. I thought it was nice that she called to explain - she could’ve completely flaked.

I didn’t see her after that until last weekend. My man and I brought our friend from out of town to her bar. Violet saw me walking up, waved, smiled her big, beautiful grin, and said, “Hey, Jane!” What a nice way to start a night, right?

After a bottle of wine and laughing till the bar closed, I invited her back to the studio where we were taking the party. She really wanted to, but it was the end of a long shift and she was tired. We all gave it a valiant effort to change her mind - sometimes girls need to be convinced. But it didn’t work.

She called me the next day and we had a nice long conversation. She invited me to an art show with live music. Finally, she asked me about my relationship with my man. I mentioned my bisexuality and the conversation quickly ended. She told me she would call with the details of the show, but I never got the phone call. I called her just to check in, but no answer, and no return.

I could’ve read it all wrong or she could’ve been into it, but afraid of it or she may just be a flaky chick. Whatever the reason, it was slightly disappointing, but the flirting was still fun. Good practice!

Until the Next Time,
Jungle Jane

P.S. Thank you to all the lovely ladies who commented on my first blog.
It’s fun to share this journey with such a foxy audience.

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If you missed Jungle Jane’s first post, click here to read: A BABY BI-GIRL SHARES HER STORY.
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If you enjoyed reading this blog, you may also enjoy:
MISS BLISS, FIND ME A BI-GIRL
ADVICE FOR BABY BI-GIRLS: FINDING A FEMALE LOVER
ASK MISS BLISS: THE ART OF FLIRTATION
WHEN YOUR STRAIGHT FRIENDS FIND OUT
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A BABY BI-GIRL SHARES HER STORY

I’m writing this blog for those bisexual readers that have yet to make love to a woman, but dream of the day. I’ve noticed there are quite a few of us baby bi-girls reading Bliss Warrior that are new in figuring out our complex sexualities. If you are anything like me, you are thoroughly enjoying the learning curve. Especially those sharp turns like becoming the bi-girl you want to meet. Meet being the key word.

Maybe, like myself, you are in love with a man that supports your courageous decision to live life openly. I am enjoying this new freeness and openness with my man. It has brought our relationship to a new level of intensity and desire. I fully enjoy admiring women with him and sharing our fantasies. Honesty is extremely sexy. It turns me on like crazy.

Maybe you’re single and looking for that lover wherever the universe is leading you to finding her or him or both. There is no one type of bi-girl. Wherever you’re at in life, your bisexuality should be exciting and empowering and radiate off of your soft glowing skin at home and in public. I am radiating myself and feel compelled to share this journey with all you dynamic bliss warriors.

I have the BW blog to thank for my coming out. I do not mind a bit telling my friends the truth anymore. It’s like my new magic power. I say things that make both sexes blush and come out of their shells. I was never a big fan of small talk!

I will use this blog to give you a little background in growing up loving girls, because that’s always fun and insightful. Talking and hearing about our childhood girlfriends is sweet and reminds us all of how innocent and pure love really is.

I believe if I ever were such a thing as bi-curious it started at a very young age and I grew into bisexuality. I think adding the word curious to the title is unnecessary. We are all inherently curious. I believe even the straight girls are bi “curious”. That’s just me, feel free to disagree. I may not have ever “been” with a girl sexually, but I know that I’m attracted to women and always will be. When I speak about my bi virginity, I am speaking about it from the adult perspective. I had plenty of action as a young girl, but none as an adult.

I will write about the now: the flirting, the fantasies, and the realities (which can sometimes be irritating). I’ll let you in on all the details of my pursuit of losing my bisexual virginity! I’ll be blogging about my search for a lover that fits like a puzzle piece. A lover that will be as comfortable with me and my man as he and I are together. A girl that wants me to write to her, about her. So that she can have it to read over and over whenever she needs to hear it. A girl that gives back and doesn’t shy away from the truth no matter what it may be.

I want sexy in whatever form it takes! Sexiness comes when you OWN IT! I look for girls who don’t really give care about what you may or may not be thinking about them. They’re simply hot and they know it. I love clever, charming, funny women that laugh loud and often. I love women who love women. That’s why I want to share in the BW community because you all know what I’m talking about. Can I get an amen?
…………………………

It must have all started when I was five. Sounds about right. Her last name was Ham. She used to chase me around the sitter’s house trying to “teach me how to french kiss”. I let her a few times. Gave her some freebies, but she wasn’t my type. She pissed me off mostly. She may have been my first kiss, but I can’t really remember. I do know that I got a lot of action when I was five.

My best friend was Emily. I never kissed her. She was my innocent, fragile friend that I handled with care. She was very churchy. Even more so than I was at that age which was tough to be. Jesus was my boy! Emily was my girl, but I played too rough for her. We had some fun times, but third grade came along and changed it all. We started at the elementary school across town: new playground, new places to hide and seek, new teachers, and new best friends.

That was when Leah came into my life.

Leah had a best friend, too, named Deedee. Deedee and Leah kicked it like Emily and I. They had a bond, an agreement and were “best friends”. Being “best friends” at that age meant something — something sacred.

Shortly after meeting, Leah and I started passing notes, telling secrets, talking on the phone, walking to each other’s house after school, and walking to school together. And, we knew what it meant. It meant that Leah and I had become best friends. In order to carry on properly, it was only fair for us to tell Emily and Deedee what was going on. We talked about it, planned it out, wrote our notes, and handed them off to our soon to be ex-best friends.

It was on! She lived a couple blocks from me. We were crazy bike riders and spent days and nights together. Doing homework, fighting with her brother and his friends, playing nintendo, and feeling up our bodies and all the changes they were going through as the years went by. We called our new pubic hair, peach fuzz. We called our new boobies, mosquito bites. Those mosquito bites seem to grow overnight in the puberty years. We would give each other massages as a way to touch each other’s new breasts. I’ll never forget it and it still turns me on.

Once upon a time, on Leah’s mother’s bed, Leah and I exchanged massages. Leah got the first massage. I put lotion all over her back and started rubbing out two circles over her shoulder blades while my thumbs slipped up her spine. Admiring her body and melting in my panties, my face was red and she was smiling. I started moving my hand under her arms. Inching my way towards her little breasts, not believing that I was actually going for it — and, unexpectedly, she cut me off.

“Your turn!” she said. I wasn’t really done, but I knew she wasn’t ending it so I smiled big and flopped down in front of her. On my stomach still, because we were “giving massages”, she squirted the lotion all over my back and began to rub me down. She glided her lotion soaked hands right under my arms. She got me nice and slippery and then slipped her hands further down and over my nipples as I rose up off the bed to give her room. She massaged my breasts and squeezed my nipples. She brought her hands back up to my back and asked me how it felt. I said, “It tickled,” and she reached down immediately to grab them again. I lifted up again and my ass pushed into her lap and I could feel her warmth from behind. Mmmmm… Leah was in control, making my shy self incredibly comfortable.

Our relationship was rocky though because she had another friend that she spent a lot of time with. I was so jealous of that girl. The last time she and I hooked up came in 7th grade at the movie theater. Leah and I had joked about having a real date. Going to the movies…together…as a couple. I think we even told our mothers that was what we were doing, but they just thought we were being silly like usual. But no. We sat in the back, held hands, rubbed each others arms, until we couldn’t hold it anymore and we turned to each other and kissed. Stopped, looked at each other, then french kissed like mad. Grabbing each other’s hair, breasts, face. We were both a little advanced in our kissing and making out. Then she startled me. She got out of her seat and crouched down in front of me and spread my legs apart and unzipped my jeans and ran her hands down my chest and into my unzipped jeans and then……….I freaked a little. I think it was the reality of being in a theater that did it for me. I wanted her so bad, but I chickened out. I made her stop. She said she understood and we finished out the movie holding hands both unsatisfied. I think it pissed her off a little. We were never the same. That was my last experience with a girl sadly enough. I’ve had plenty of crushes, but never any action.

I think these type of experiences mean something. A LOT of little girls have these type of experiences.

Have you had similar experiences?
Do you feel those experiences were your first bisexual ones?

I remember it all as the beginning. I feel that sex with a woman does not make you bisexual, the desire to be with a woman does.

Until the next time, I will still be searching for the girl who is the one.

xoxoxox
JUNGLE JANE