Hotel Bliss Guest Blog

A First Time - The Final Account

As I have mentioned in the previous post this was a night of many firsts. At this time I would like to go into details of those firsts…..

After Denise and I recovered from our wonderful orgasms, Rich had poured us each a new glass of wine. I have to admit for a first time with a woman whose man was there I continued to forget he really was. He was very much up unto this point a spectator. You could see he very much loved being in that position too. No angst for no real participation at this point. Even the moments to come he was more of an assistant and I truly got to enjoy so many wonderful new things.

The three of us proceeded into the bedroom and Denise asked, “Do you trust us?”. At this point I was so excited and satisfied I would trust anyone to do anything, and I did. Denise and Rich kissed and touched me as they laid me down on the bed. Denise grabbed a scarf and blindfolded me. This act in itself was so excititng and a bit scary that new sensations tingled all of my senses. Rich took each arm and leg and placed them into handcuffs that were already attached to the bed. Here I was completly vunerable to two people with absolutely no control. Instanly I could feel myself open up to this new sensation and I left a puddle between my legs.

Having kisses and hands all over me without seeing was suck an intense electric stimulous but nothing compared to the surprises that awaited me. The next thing I felt was a dildo being slid into my vagina. Slowly filling all of me I moan like I have never heard myself before. I swear the neighbors could hear! I can now feel Denise climb ontop of me and feel her body slowly push down towards mine. “Oh my god!? What is that?!”, I scream. Rich was the only one to respond, “A double headed dildo.” I have only seen such things in stores and now to feel what it does for women, have mercy!!

When Denise fully thrust towards me it opened our labias. When they touched our clits suction cupped together. I can’t even describe the exctasy that invaded my entire being while this woman bounced and grinded my groin inside and out. I began to have the most intense continuos orgasms of my life. Yes, multiple orgasms!! I didn’t believe they could exist for me, and here I was bucking and screamin on a constant level for more than just a mere second, or minute but what seemed like eternity.

After Denise and I had cum several times together I suddenly feel the dildo being removed from our bodies. I thought I was going to be released from my restraints but to my surprise there was more! Something was being attached to my clit! It was such a paculiar feeling. Then Denise started grinding me again and I realized our clits are attached to each other. I ask again, “What is that?”. Rich responds, “it’s a clit clip, just enjoy my dear.” A clit clip? I had never even heard of such a thing and was thrilled by yet ANOTHER new sensation and toy!

The night continued to the wee hours of the morning. It was more and more sessions of Rich assisting Denise and I enjoying each other. His direction of the two of us was the most sincere, kind and thoughtful participation of a man I had ever seen. Even to this day. It wasn’t even until after we had all slept that I was approached by Ricn for interaction with him, which Denise directly so lovingly. These firsts have been and probably will always remain the closest to my heart. Much more than losing my virginity. I have yet to even be with a woman again that would use a double header or clit clip with me again and it’s been 24 years of experience since then.

The time living with Denise and Rich ended soon after our first time togehter. Denise had a girlfriend Jeanie who would come and play with us during the day when Rich was at work. (yes a first time of all women three some, whew! that’s a whole nother blog) Rich became very jealous that he wasn’t participating in those events and I was asked to leave. It was a sad note that our relationship ended, but I still walked away with one of the most amazing experiences in my life.

It has been such a wonderful walk down memory lane sharing this story with you all. I hope you have enjoyed it!! XOXOXO

“The Girl”

Before the story, some background information:

I was raised in a very strict fundamental Christian family, and was home schooled all of my “growing up” years. All things not strictly following the laws laid down by our church or the Bible were to be dealt with immediately and harshly. Obviously, this included bisexuality. Guess I’m outta luck!

Her name was Emilie, and I was in love. She was “The Girl” – the one that made me realize my blessing and my curse, the one that brought everything into focus just for a little while. I adored her. We had met through a mutual friend at church, and there was instantly a connection. There was so much to like! She was outrageous, blasphemous, daring – everything I wasn’t allowed to be.

I was 13 at the time, and was just becoming aware of my sexuality. As a young girl, I had no real idea what the difference was between a boy and a girl, and to be honest, I didn’t care. Isn’t that the way everybody is as a little kid? By this time, I think part of me knew I liked girls more than boys, but I was trying so hard to be the good girl, the one that my mom could be proud of (i.e. …not bisexual!), that I stifled my feelings for girls and instead went crazy for boys- but that story is for another time. Back to Emilie.

We instantly bonded and became fast friends over a single summer. We shared everything – all our girl secrets, our clothes, our lives, really. We even pretended like we were lesbians (to make the guys jealous, was our logic). Eventually, I became comfortable enough with her to share the one secret I’d kept.

I was going to spend the night at her house that evening, and was ready – even excited - to tell her. That evening was a tumultuous affair… I eventually did tell her, and she told me she was too. What terrific things I was told that night. We were made for each other; this was right, she loved me so much and had been dying to tell me. I was delighted! I had found a true confidant, and perhaps something more (in my innocence, I really wasn’t sure what more there could be, but I was sure there was something). We didn’t do anything sexually that night; we just enjoyed one another’s company and I fell even more in love. There was so much to explore with her, I couldn’t get over the depths of her personality.

About a week after I told her, we still hadn’t talked about it – which seemed a little odd. She had invited me up to her house again that weekend, and I was excited for “us time.” When I got there, she seemed so excited to see me. She even greeted me with a kiss on the lips, which was a first. We talked, watched movies, gossiped; it was just like always. The next morning, I said goodbye, still without a word about our supposed similarities in the sexual orientation department.

A few days later, she called me to tell me she wouldn’t be my friend anymore – a childish thing to do, in hindsight, but it broke my heart. She told me she didn’t really love me. She was scared of what I could make her become. I thought she was kidding. I could understand it if she’d just realized she wasn’t bi and didn’t want anything more than friendship to come of our relationship, I could even understand if she was nervous and wanted time to think. But she didn’t love me? We couldn’t be friends?

From then on, we saw each other a few times in passing – I by myself, the loner, she her true, bubbly and vivacious self, always surrounded by a half dozen or so adoring fans. On the occasions we saw each other, she would either go out of her way to avoid me or come right up to be and be so rude. It was ironic; the traits I loved most about her, her daring, her zest for everything, even her cruelty, were the things that hurt me so deeply after our short friendship ended.

Did I get over her? Yes. Have I moved on? Yes. Does it still hurt? Most certainly yes. For a long time after her, I never told anyone else my secret. I reverted back to pretending it didn’t exist – pretending I was normal. Eventually, I felt safe enough to tell again…but that story is for another time as well, maybe soon.

In all honesty, it wasn’t until the amazingly brilliant and talented Bliss Warrior befriended me on myspace that I was able to face my personal fears about bisexuality and embrace the beautiful being that I truly am.

I am still terrified of “straight” girls, though. I am constantly worrying about their every thought – do they really like me? Friends? More? Love? Nope, guess not.

To this day, I find it nearly impossible to hit on a girl; even in a bi and gay friendly atmosphere, I am nervous that I am going to find someone who gets me, only to realize they don’t, they were just pretending. Since Bliss Warrior, all that has begun to change. Every day is a new step towards what I desire to be, and every step is an exciting new adventure. Who will I meet this day? If I allow myself to be swept away, where will it take me? Now that Hotel Bliss is here, I know I have the community to fall back on, the support system I needed before I would be willing to jump. Thank you to all the wonderful girls on this site – may it bring all of you courage to take whatever steps you’ve been afraid of most. No matter what, know that we all are here, behind you, pulling you up when you fall, embracing you when you need love, sharing our hearts with you as you share yours with us.

That’s all for now…check back later for the next chapter in the life of me: The Lesbians Attack! 

Until then, my love to all of you!

Sybaritic

No, you can’t watch!

I had just started dating someone, when I made a big mistake. I mentioned my ex girlfriend. You could see the wheels in his mind crashing to a grinding halt. I blushed in the silence and said, “I’m bi…..” Then I added, “But I don’t do threesomes!”

His answer, “Well then, what’s the point?”

I rarely get a negative response from a man for being openly bisexual. This response really struck me. It reminds me of another, more common response: “Can I watch?”

I don’t do threesomes, and no you can’t watch. And so, the appeal of my bisexuality is lost completely on most men.

Sometimes it’s hard being a bisexual woman. We are seen as promiscuous, attention-starved means for men to live out their fantasies of two girls at once. We are seen as dishonest and that we have it “easy” because we can “masquerade” as straight and don’t have people railing against a bisexual agenda. Yet let me tell you, when a man sees no point and no beauty in your bisexuality because it isn’t serving his own sexual needs, it can make you question the point of it all and whether bisexual women have it all that “easy”.

I’m bisexual, but that doesn’t mean I am incapable of devoting myself to one person.

I’m bisexual but that doesn’t mean I want my intimate moments with the man or woman I choose to love to be put on display for someone else.

If only he knew then how much his comment had hurt me. And how often I heard it echoed in the responses of other men.

That is part of the appeal of joining a website like Hotel Bliss. Instead of having your sexuality treated like a tool for other men, it is celebrated and enshrined for what it is by other women who have been made to feel as isolated and objectified as you, yourself, have felt at times. You are not alone and you are not an object. The beauty and openness you show by being bisexual is amazing. We need more ethical, honest, lovely bi-girls like yourselves in the world.

**New Series** Tales of A Dancer - The Background

  For a short time, my husband and I were so bad off financially that I bit the rope and did something I never thought I could do.

  I became a Stripper.

  It was extremely hard for me, as I was molested as a small child, and thoughts of that continued to come up for me while at ‘work’.  The money was good.  The money was great.  But the emotional trama was nearly unbearable.  So I pretended.  I pretended that I was the journalist for a Bi-girl magazine (Miss Bliss, you helped me do this) and that I was working undercover to produce a new series called ‘Stripper Stories’.  I was so convinced that was my real job, that I even told it as a secret to a new friend at work, and proved it to her by revealing a notepad that I’d packed in my bag to write down important notes.  And write down those notes I did.  I didn’t want to miss anything that could be a great possible story.  When I got home, I’d type them up on my computer - just to prove to myself that that was the only reason I had to dance.

  Since then, I have been able to quit.  I now work at a formal job, and while the money isn’t as plentiful, we get by.  But my notes remain on this laptop of mine, and I’m ready to start my series for real.  I’ve changed the title of the series to ‘Tales of a Dancer’ and I will be making short stories drawn from what I can remember, and mostly my notes.  I will be elaborating on the stories as time goes on, because I only worked there for a few months and I know that my notes will evenutally run out.  But please know that my ‘Tales of a Dancer’ will be based on True Events.

Enjoy.

I was the last to know I was bi!

I was twenty when I finally decided that there was no getting around it. I was unashamedly, irrefutably bisexual. The funny thing was, I had been saying I was bi since I was fifteen. Now, before you accuse me of being the type of girl that would make out with another girl at parties just to get attention, let me explain that I was hopelessly clueless about who I was even when I was staring straight at myself. Until I was twenty, I called myself theoretically bi. I knew I thought girls were stunning, but I had never felt a deep emotional attachment to one.

That changed when I met Jaime. Jaime was a bi girl who was an acquaintance of mine. I was dating a man at the time and they had fooled around. Overcome with guilt, she insisted to him that she had to tell me. Up until that conversation, I really didn’t know her that well. We started talking and I immediately became interested in this delightful and complex girl. After one conversation, it didn’t matter that she had fooled around with my boyfriend. In fact, I was happy because I never would have discovered how wonderful she was otherwise.

Jaime was just as surprised as I was at my reaction. I fell head over heels for her in a surprisingly short period of time. My man became convinced that I liked girls more than I liked boys. I was fighting spontaneous romantic urges I had never felt before in my life. I called her my inamorata.

Now here’s what I valued most about this precious bit of time where I had my inamorata’s affection. I began to look at women differently. I had always had a somewhat uneasy relationship with other women. I found them intimidating, inscrutable, or too catty for my liking. Now, everywhere I turned I found something wonderful in the women around me. Their beauty, their intellects, their hopes and their creativity. They all reminded me of her. I also had far more self confidence because I loved her and I was a woman just like her, so I began to love myself. I looked different when I saw myself in the mirror. This is what my love for Jaime did to me.

After she left and the glittery distraction of infatuation began to fade, I started thinking back on my life. I realized that I had not been theoretically bi for years, I had just been plain old bi in reality.

When I was a kid, I had been interested in other girls my age. In junior high and high school, I had checked out female celebrities and flirted with my best girl friends. At the age of fifteen, I had come close to losing my virginity to another girl before I had been scared that someone might find us out. At sixteen, an ugly rumor circulated that I had tried to have sex with a girl I had harmlessly flirted with.

And yet I still dared to say that I was only theoretically bi. I was half in the closet all those years. I fully admitted I was bi, but still had my own doubts. Maybe I would have sex with a girl, but I didn’t think I could love one. To commit to another girl emotionally would condemn me to a life of bisexuality. There are a lot of places I could go with this discussion, but I am going to talk specifically about self identification.

You can be bisexual and still not incorporate it into how you see yourself.

There are women out there who are interested in other women and want to be loved by someone like them but do not identify as bi. There are women out there who identify as bi and yet still insulate themselves in doubt to help preserve a semblance that they might be normal. Some bi girls may desperately want to believe that other girls are a passing fancy, just so they do not have to face the pressure. It is difficult to be gay. It is getting easier, but what some people don’t realize that it is hard to be bisexual too. It comes with its own variety of intolerance, misunderstanding, and objectification.

I cannot stress the benefits of authentic self-identification. The world may be raging around you but you will be the calm center. Be authentic and live with integrity. There is nothing worse than having to hide the love you have to give and who your heart gives it to.

Never Have Sex With Your Fiance’s Sister - Part I

  I didn’t plan for anything crazy to happen when I invited my best friend, Wendy, over to the apartment I shared with my boyfriend’s sister. We both had the day off and just planned to watch movies and hang out. A couple of hours into our fun, Holly (my roomate) showed up with a man about our age whom I hadn’t met - not unusual behavior for Holly; we always joked about who was going to be the next Flavor of the Week.

  His name was Tom. He was tall, thin, lanky with glasses, and had a nice smile. He wasn’t my type physically, but he seemed like a pleasant man and so we all chatted for a while and just generally hung out.

  As young people do, we soon got restless and decided to go out. I thought, why not take lunch to my boyfriend at work? So we all piled in my car and headed out. The two in the back were getting cozy, and my best friend made a statement. You know the kind that hides a bit of truth behind a short laugh?

 ”You guys are starting to make me jealous!” she said.

 To our surreal surprise, Holly reached her hand up front to touch Wendy’s breast.

 ”Here,” she flirted, “You don’t have to be jealous.”

 The still sex-shy girl inside of me made my eyes widen, as the vixen in my chest caused a giggle to come from a sly smile.

 ”What about me?!”

 Suddenly I had four hands upon me as I gripped the steering wheel, trying to keep steady on the road. I loved the feeling…it all seemed so taboo! One of my breasts was being fondled by… I didn’t even know who, while another hand was creeping up my inner thigh. I’d always thought girls were beautiful and wondered if I might like to be intimate with one…though my very christian childhood prohibited it and until just recently, I’d always pushed away the idea as something wrong. Now here I was with two girls all over me as they kissed each other, and a man whose last name I didn’t even know was watching from the backseat!

 ‘You’re driving to your boyfriend’s work,’ a tiny voice in the back of my mind kept telling me, ‘You’re driving to your boyfriend’s work.‘ Somehow it got pushed aside by the curiosity that was still pounding in my chest.

  Oh how I should have listened.

  We reached our destination and pulled ourselves together to walk inside without looking suspicious. As wrong as it was - and it truly was - it somehow made everything that much more tantalizing. We all sat down with my sweet and adoring boyfriend and eyes darted across the table as I flirted with my best friend and looked at his sister in amazement; SHE’D TOUCHED ME! So wrong. So exciting!

  I remember seeing Tom there as…not an enticement for sex, but soley because he made it even more off limits. I’d never had sex with another person in the world other than my boyfriend, much less a threesome…but a FOURSOME!? How many times in your life do you get the chance to do that sober and so casually as was presented to us that day?

  A half hour later we left the establishment and I threw the keys at Holly, “My turn in the back!”

 I pulled Wendy in behind me as I crawled in, forcing the man to the front. Ha! Now the fun was going to begin…Holly adjusted the rearview mirror so she could watch us as we played with each other. Our hands began exploring beneath the shirts that covered our sensitive round busts and we kissed that sweet kiss that only women can have between their soft lips.

 ”Okay I’m getting lonely up here, that’s no fair!” We smiled and leaned up front to include the driver in our fun.

  By the time we finally got home, we were all so worked up that we raced inside and into my bedroom, where we found a queen sized bed waiting for us.  I stood there a bit shyly - not sure what to do, but anxious to do something. Wendy soothed my anxiety when she pulled me into the bed and climbed on top of me, fondling and giggling with me over the sheer odd fun we were having. Tom laid down next to me with Holly and we played as seperate couples in the dark. I felt shy and scared and like I was doing something wrong, but wanted to experience it so badly that I closed my eyes and tried to push all thoughts out of my mind. Wendy reached over and felt the two beside us, and the moaning began.

  Holly very much enjoyed a woman’s touch while Tom was slipped inside her. I reached out and slid my hand across her stomach and up to her chest, barely seeing her mouth open and eyes closed in the dark. She rolled off of Tom and I saw a nine inch penis hard and ready to go. He sat up and took Wendy under him. I kissed her as he inserted himself into her soft genitalia. He worked her long and hard until she finally shouted out as she orgasmed. I took a breath then, partly for realizing I’d just helped a girl come, and partly because I knew it’d to be my turn next.

  I was scared shitless.

   I felt Holly pulling me closer to her and positioning me right under Tom. The girls were touching me and kissing me and that helped me relax again, but before I knew it there was a male member inside of me, hitting me rough and going in as deep as it could. I didn’t like it one bit.

   ‘I thought that giant dicks were supposed to make a girl feel GOOD?’

  It was terribly uncomfortable and even hurt; he was jabbing me, as if he were a boy poking a frog with a stick! I felt as though I could feel him bruising my stomach - despite 21 years of having that thing attached to his torso, he still had no idea how to use it! My boyfriend was such a great lover, it never occured to me that anyone could be so utterly terrible at something so standard an activity.

  My boyfriend.

  From that moment I lay there, waiting. Simply waiting.

  When will this be over? Oh god this is so annoying. I just know I’ll pay for this later…

  Finally he got off me and switched to one of the other gal’s, and I decided to take a break and watch. They seemed to be having a good time…well, let them. When we were finished, we flirted and acted silly, playing around and making jokes. Then, Tom made mention of his camera.

  WARNING: Never…EVER…under ANY circumstances allow ANYONE that you don’t completely and FULLY trust to take pictures of you while in an incriminating state. i.e. Naked with your boyfriend’s sister and some strange guy while you wrap your legs around your best friend.

To Be Continued……

Be on the lookout for Part II, when an engagement, lies, karma and a two-tongued devil take over the real life characters of Never Have Sex With Your Fiance’s Sister

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