Hotel Bliss Guest Blog

She Danced Into My Fairytale - Part Three - A Baby Bi-Girl Shares Her First Time

Missed Parts One and Two of She Danced Into My Fairytale? CLICK HERE to read Part One and CLICK HERE to read Part Two.

Saturday morning the ballerina was the first thing on my mind. My man and I had our coffee and breakfast together and he headed out to work in the yard. I took a walk down to Danya’s. I had to talk to a girl. I was overflowing from the night before. My face was blushed and I was silly with excitement for this human. I slipped into Danya’s little house and fell onto a pile of pillows on her floor. She knew.

She put the water onto boil for tea and told me how sweet the two of us looked next to the fire the night before. “I knooooow,” I said. “I wanna go see her now. She’s soooo pretty and magical and electric.”

“I knew it,” she said. “I told you.”

“You were sooo right! How did you know?”

“I just know,” she said with heavy eyes. “Pussy is incredible you know? It’s addicting. Men kill for it. It’s like a temple. You’ll want to worship there.”

“Oh, God, D., I wanna go see her now,” I said hugging the pillows. “But I have to be cool. Shit! How do I be cool?”

“Yeah, nobody likes heavy things,” she said wisely. “Here!” She threw a stack of Goddess Tarot Cards at me and said, “Shuffle these and pick one.”

“I don’t want to,” I said not wanting to jinx anything.

“Do it,” she demanded. “The cards never lie.”

She was the boss. I did as she said and picked the quiet goddess card. She told me to be peaceful and meditative. “Pick another,” she said. I picked the courage goddess, Freyja. Freyja told me to be bold and brave and take the chance. Freya rode on a heavenly chariot pulled by cats. “There you go! That’s the one,” Danya said with a wink and a stir of her tea. “Go ahead and pick one more, you can never pick too many.” I picked the protection goddess. She told me not to worry. She advised me to take a moment to breathe, be silent, and “be cool”. Do what is natural and do not hesitate for the goddesses got my back.

Just then, Danya’s sweet friend Pamela showed up and wanted to go for a swim in the pools. We walked down the path, untied our sarongs and dove in. We practiced a little silence like the first card said and let the cold spring water rejuvenate our nude bodies.

In my silence, I did not notice the ballerina coming down the trails. I looked up and there she was, smiling right in front of me. The look on my face was priceless. I couldn’t hold her gaze; I had to look away. She was with her man and they were heading up to the Queen’s Pool. Danya invited her to come back to join us when she was done. I could barely look at her, when I did she was smiling at me. I was floating on water. Danya flashed me her instigator grin and clued Pamela in on the story so she didn’t feel left out. “How exiting!” she gasped with the prettiest grin. She confessed that she too had a crush on her girlfriend. How lucky I was to be sitting with such classy, sexy, elder ladies who understand and love women so thoroughly?!

I was enjoying our conversation when the ballerina snuck up from behind, sat right up against me, and kissed my cheek. I leaned into her and fell right into the erotic energy left over from the night before. I was in Heaven. Danya and Pamela felt like taking naps so I suggested that we all four take a trip to the “Dragon Tree” in the “Groovy Grass.” I decided to bring a picnic, some polish, some smoke, a blanket and pillows. Who could resist a plan like that? Not the ballerina.

We gathered up our things and headed toward the tall iron wood tree that stands solid like the spine of a good man while her branches curve down as if cradling the earth below. Under her branches, the ladies got comfy for their naps.

You know I wasn’t sleepy. The ballerina wasn’t sleepy either. I untied my sarong and ran out into the bouncy field. I threw myself onto my back feeling like a little girl. She came running after and fell next to my side. Two beautiful nude women under the sun, invisible in the grass. Our bodies connected. My arm under her neck. Her head on my shoulder. Her arm around my waist. Her leg over my legs. She wrapped herself around me and a blast of masculinity shot through my body in a way I had never experienced before. I knew I had a masculine side, but I had never felt it in its entirety until she curled up next to me the way I curl up to my man.

I kissed her head and each one of her fingertips. Whispers of woooow were repeated. Heavy breathing and neck kisses and cheek kisses. Her fingers were so small. The same size of my own. We sat up and looked at each other and talked about how wonderful the night before had been and how perfect the moment felt. We gazed into each other’s eyes and fell back into our grassy nest.

I propped my head up with my hand so that I could get a proper view of her perfect breasts. I could still taste them from the night before. I squeezed her nipples between my thumb and finger and told her how immaculate they were. I placed the tip of my tongue on the tip of her breast and fell into infancy as I sucked her perked dark pink nipple into my mouth. A fantasy, no longer a fantasy.

I opened my mouth and explored her entire breast with my tongue. I started to feel like I was getting lost in my own bliss, so I looked up at her and said, “I’m sorry, I just can’t help it. Is this all okay?”

“Of course,” she said. We both sat up to catch a breeze and to make sure that it was all really happening.

“It’s hot,” I said.

“Well, yeah,” she says. “It’s hot, but…..of course, it’s hot.” We smile at each other and fall back into our grassy nest.

“I want to make love to you,” I said as I kissed her soft belly. She didn’t say anything. “We can take it as slow as you want, but that’s what I want. Maybe not today, maybe in the moonlight, but definitely here,” I said as I rub her down with my hands.

“Well, we’re here now,” she said with her hands covering her eyes. She then lifted her head up to see my face. My stomach flipped.

I brought my face up to meet hers. “I kissed a girl when I was thirteen years old, but I have never kissed a woman.”

“Me either,” she said and kissed my cheek. We leaned in and our lips met very softly. Slowly we pressed our lips together. Mmm. We moaned and released. We leaned in again, this time with open mouths so our tongues could meet. Her mouth felt so tiny.

I reached my hand down to touch her opening with the tip of my finger. She was dripping wet and I was melting. I kissed her and started sliding my finger inside of her soft body. I slipped all the way in and she smiled and covered her eyes. One slick investigating finger and I felt like I was fingering myself. I pulled out and added one. Two fingers. I pulled out and added one. Three fingers. She was soaking wet all over my hand. I was sliding in and out in a fast rhythm that slow danced with her hips. I didn’t want her to come so I pulled out my three fingers and held them up to the sunlight. They glistened. I spread them out to see the juice string from one finger to the other. Clear, slick, fucking gorgeous juice. She reached up to touch them and said, “Wooow, that’s beautiful.” I licked the juice off one of my fingers and had her lick her juice from the other two.

I sat up and began to kiss my way way down the ballerina’s belly. I reached the top of her sex and kissed the tip and took a deep breath of her beautiful scent and rubbed my cheaks against her inner thighs, and ran my nose down her clitoris and barely tasted her juice. Maybe she thought I was nervous so she told me to take my time. I wasn’t nervous at all, but in no way was I going to rush the experience.

She tasted like rose water. She smelled like a girl. I pressed my nose against her clitoris and she responded with pressure asking me to dive in. I ran the width of my tongue up from the base of her pussy to the hood of her clit and around and around. I licked the side of her labia up and down, fast and slow, and in small circles feeling her grow in my mouth. I licked the other side up and down, fast and slow and in little circles feeling her grown even larger. Then I sucked her entire clit into my mouth and did to her what I dream of a woman doing to me.

She tried to sit up to watch. I can understand that, but I wanted her relaxed on her back. So I slipped a finger inside. You know you can’t sit up with that. She fell back and I brought the girl to climax in my mouth. I pulled my mouth back to see her juice. Thicker this time. I opened my mouth so she could see her juice on my tongue. I kissed her deeply and fell into her arms.

She let me give like I wanted to give and held me like I needed to be held. We laid there in amazement and throbs of bliss. Catching our breath for more.

TO BE CONTINUED…
JUNGLE JANE

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
****************************************************************************************************
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
****************************************************************************************************
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.
****************************************************************************************************
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
****************************************************************************************************

Living with a closed head injury.

At the prompting of the lovely Jungle Jane and Shocka as well as to help exercise my brain I decided to put this down. It will also help explain some of my idiosyncrasies, like why I’m slow to reply in chat.On September 19, 2003 I got up as usual and got ready to go to work. Told the husband to sleep well (he was working nights at this time) gave my four kids their pats and an admonishment to be good for “Daddy” and let him sleep and made my way to the bus stop. I worked downtown at the time and usually went in early to be at work by 6:30am to get a head start on my day. I remember getting to the intersection across from my bus stop then…nothing. The next thing I knew I was seeing what I thought was sunshine through my closed eyelids and thinking “Hell, I gotta get up! I’m gonna be late!” But I was so tired and my limbs felt so heavy it was just easier to drift off to sleep again. The next time I felt that actually waking up was an option, I opened my eyes to find myself in a sterile hospital room with bright lights and my parents were there. I remember my Mom saying, “Quick, Tom get Don! She’s awake!” Then my husband comes into my field of view with a look of anger and concern on his face that truly frightened me. I asked what the hell was going on in a voice I hardly recognized as my own it was so hoarse and raspy.

Turns out as I went to cross that final intersection before my bus stop (with the light in my favor, I might add) I was hit from behind on my left side by a turning car that I never even saw much less heard coming. I was tossed completely across the intersection to lay in oncoming traffic and was almost hit again by another car who fortunately stopped to see what was wrong. How long I laid there before the second car came I have no idea. This unknown good Samaritan called the paramedics and left after they arrived. I wish I had been able to find out who this was so I could thank him/her.

When the paramedics arrived they automatically assumed that since it was so early (5:30am) that I must be drunk or on dugs to be out so early. This despite the fact that I had my state issued work id on a lanyard around my neck. So they decided to strap me to the gurney with the heavy duty restraining belts used for violent patients and took me to the hospital where normally they took those who are incapcitated from drink or drugs or were indigent patients. Once at the hospital still working under the assumption that I was on a controlled substance they did an unauthorized spinal tap to run tests for these substances that I was supposedly on. They also put me on very heavy doses of sedatives due to the fact that I was being violent. Which I wasn’t….I was seeing the hospital lights and mistaking them for sunshine and was trying to get up to go to work. Hence my “violent” thrashings. Once all their “necessary” tests were done some bright person finally decided to check my cell for contact info and finally got a hold of my parents who rushed to the hospital after dispatching a friend to bang on our apartment door and wake my husband up.

Once my family arrived and set the doctors straight that I was not a substance abuser they finally allowed me to fully wake up. There was so much concern over my being on “drugs” that no x-rays, MRIs or anything were done. It took my family going off on the nurses to get them to do an x-ray on my left leg when I complained of it hurting. Nothing was done to see what type of head injuries I may have had. I was outfitted with a leg brace and crutches and sent on my merry way with little to no after care instructions or doctor recommendations for aftercare and or physical therapy. This despite having a concussion, contusions, scrapes, scratches, torn ligaments in my left leg, severe back pain not too mention no clothes due to them being cut off by the paramedics. I left wearing a hospital gown and nothing else.

Once I got back home, my parents and husband told me that when they arrived at the hospital they had to fight to get the restraining belts taken off ( I still have scars today from those) and be taken off all the sedatives they had me on. I still felt terrible both from the original trauma and the drugs the hospital had put me on. It was decided that the next day I would go see my regular doctor and get rechecked and make arrangements for any necessary physical therapy and after care.

The next day at the doctor’s office we find out that our normal insurance would not cover anything and were told to file a claim w/our auto insurance since it was a “car accident”. The auto insurance denied the claim since it was a hit and run. So me being the stubborn person I am I said the hell with it and did my own rehab. I researched my injuries and the best treatment for them. I upped my reading and puzzle solving activities to help my brain recover and the day after being released I was back to my normal routine of walking my dogs ( we didn’t get very far, but we tried) and keeping up with the household chores like cleaning and cooking. I walked up and down the stairs leading to our apartment to help my leg recover. I did lifting and stretching exercises for my back. It hurt like hell and took forever, but I did it. I was also back at work within a week of the accident. Sadly, due to not getting the professional rehab I required I begin to have problems at my job and my back got so bad that I would be forced to lay in bed for days on heavy doses of pain pills. I was finally forced to resign my position at my job and cash out my retirement fund for us to live on. My husband had just gotten laid off and we needed the money badly.

Now almost 5 years later my left leg is back to normal, I still have some back issues and have to be careful when lifting and to not over exert my self. I still suffer tremendous complications from my head injury. When typing my brain is faster than my fingers and I’m constantly having to recheck my spelling and grammar. Simple words are difficult and I keep a dictionary handy. I’m not as able to keep up with a fast moving chatroom and sometimes lose track of the topic/topics being discussed. Simple concepts can be hard to grasp and/or understand. If I over exert myself or get stressed out I have terrible dizzy spells. Naps are a major part of my day as I can’t seem to get on and keep a normal sleep schedule. And forget holding down a “normal” job. The least little bit of stress causes a re-occurrence of the head injury complications and even the nicest employer will have issues with me having to take too much time off no matter the reason.

But all in all I manage to lead a pretty good life with help from my wonderful husband. I’m still able to do most of the activities I used to do before the accident with some modifications. I still read, take long walks, surf the web and take care of my house, husband and pups. I can’t drive due to not knowing when a dizzy spell will happen, but since I did not drive before the accident this is no great loss for me. In hindsight should we have fought harder to get me the medical help I needed? Probably, but we were so tired of fighting, we knew the husband’s job was in jeopardy and he was liable to be laid off at any time and I was running out of paid leave and my HR department was beginning to get nasty as well. We were just tired of all the fighting and paperwork and worrying about finding the money for more co-pays for dr. visits that may or not have been able to help me.

This blog is not intended to garner sympathy for myself. Rather to show that despite the roadblocks thrown in my way I was able overcome a near fatal accident and get on with my life. And for those wondering, no they never did find the driver who hit me. There were no cameras on any of the businesses at that intersection and nothing was open at the time it happened. Well, the grocery store was open, but it is situated so far from the intersection that nobody saw anything. We tried to follow up with the police on a regular basis, but were always brushed off.

So if I’m slow in chat or slow to post responses to a blog or comment I’m most likely rechecking my spelling and grammar or trying to get the old brain to comprehend the signals my eys are sending it. Just have patience with me please, I’ll catch up eventually.

Getting Dressed Up for Myself

It’s a quiet afternoon and no one is in the house. I fidget in my computer chair because all of a sudden I am in the mood to pleasure myself. I strip myself down and stalk into my closet to find something to wear for myself. I pick my clothes more carefully than when I go on dates. I have worn my lingerie more for myself than anyone else.

I’ve selected a corset and I am pulling on thigh high stockings when I begin debating wearing underwear or not, and my body gives a little shiver. Just the preparation for myself is foreplay. When I am done, I look at myself in the mirror. Finding women attractive, I can appreciate being sexy and looking at something I find sexy…

I begin to fantasize as I watch myself. I am running my hands over myself, enjoying the feeling and thinking of both doing it and having it done to me. I pull each piece of clothing off in a slow, deliberate way that no one else can quite manage in terms of anticipation and sensuality.

There are times in which this is enough, just the way I undress myself is enough to send me over the edge but it always leaves me wanting more and maybe a half hour later I will be pleasuring myself again.

If you’ve ever dressed up just for the hell of it, then you might know what I mean. Dressing up for yourself is sometimes the perfect complement to self-pleasure. You do it for your lovers, but you are also your own lover.

Sometimes, we become too focused on pleasing our partners and masturbation is seen as a second-best alternative to the emotional and physical intimacy you have with your partner. Yet masturbation is important in its own right. Wooing yourself is important to a healthy self-image. Dress up for yourself.

How gratifying is it, to look in the mirror and realize how sexy you are? To get pleasure from realizing what a goddess you are?

It is vital to know the path to pleasure, to traverse it often alone and enjoy the discovery of all that is sensual and unique about yourself.

A First Time - Part 2

Denise wasn’t like the men I had been with, she didn’t dive right into to licking me. First she teased me, licking right between my labia and were the thigh comes together on each side. So soft and gentle, is this what making love is supposed to be like?? She teased with her tongue around my labia and not quite licking my clitoris, which by this point is so large it’s peaking out from my folds. I feel her fingers just outside my vagina, every so slight pushing against the entrance without penetration. Denise’s fingers part my lips and for the first time a woman’s mouth encompasses my entire clit.

The sensations that attacked my entire body were electric. Within only seconds I was peaking to a new level of orgasm I had never experienced before. My back was arched and every muscle in my entire body was flexed and I thought to myself, “Nothing could be better than this”. When suddenly as Denise plunged her fingers into me, Rich began stroking my hair and kissing me. I had completely forgotten there was somebody else there.

Rich was a complete gentleman, considering the circumstances. With every touch and kiss he would ask, “May I kiss you?”, “May I touch your breasts?”. I’ve never known a man to ask permission! This ignited my senses even more! With two sets of hands and two sets of lips all over my body, again I orgasm. The extremity of this orgasm was more intense with every second. “I’m coming again! Oh my God, I love this!”

Rich held me gently as Denise brought me the most passionate, violent, shaking my body had every experienced. As my body continued to twitch, Denise kissed my entire body from my thighs upward until she ended with a deep kiss on my mouth. This was the first taste of a woman I had ever had and it was myself! I had always feared even though I wanted a woman I wouldn’t be able to handle the taste…. I loved it! My complete exhaustion from the past hour had disappeared and all I could think was how I needed taste her.

As Denise and I kissed I rolled her onto her back. I followed her lead and kissed all over her slowly and sensuously. Deep but soft bites on her ears and neck, down her torso, hips, thighs, shins and slowly worked my way back up. Back to the crease between the thighs and the labia were I begin to lick.

I can smell her and it is intoxicating. I put off opening her labia to view and taste her. I’m so nervous and scared if I will perform to her capacity. I go for more kisses on her mouth; and she must be able to tell I’m nervous because she takes both hands around my face, looks me straight in the eyes and says, “Don’t worry, I will direct you…”

Denise guides my head back between her thighs and parts her labia. I can see all of her now. Pink lips, pink clit, shaved bald and her organ was pulsating from excitement. I start with the softest licks up and down the lines of each side. As I hear her moan I become even more excited and increase my speed but remain ever so soft. “Take my clit into your mouth and suck it while you lick it with your tongue.” Her command thrilled me even more and I eagerly obeyed.

Amazement swept me with such a new experience. The texture was so soft, slick and wet. The clit fit so easily in my mouth and doing as she requested was so much easier than oral sex with a man. Denise lifted her fingers away from parting her labia and I could feel them enfold each end of my mouth and touching my cheeks. Ahhhh, so soft and warm I feel as though I could this for hours!

Denise’s hips began to buck and I could hear moaning, yes’s and don’t stop’s continuously. I then followed my instincts with what she had performed earlier by taking my index and middle finger and begin pressing against the entrance to her vagina. But I did not enter, at least until she commanded me so, “Put two fingers in me, now!’

As I penetrated her with my fingers she began to buck more wildly and I could hear her say, “I’m goin’ to cum!” Right after I hear her say those words a warm liquid began to run down my face and chin while she grabbed my hair and forced my face even deeper onto her clit. Suddenly, I could feel my fingers being gripped so tightly by her vagina and she began to “ride” my fingers and face faster and faster. Her screams became louder, her grip on my hair tighter and then a flood of her juices all over me.

I now know that was a female ejaculation. I had no idea it even existed or how it felt. One thing for sure I felt so relieved, excited and proud that I could perform to her satisfaction. As we lay holding each other and kissing she says, “That was amazing, you’re a natural.”

I thought the night was coming to an end but it was far from over for firsts with a woman. Not to mention first for a threesome……..

(continued in part 3)

“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

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
*************************************************************************************************
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
*************************************************************************************************
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
*************************************************************************************************

Coming out of the Compliment Closet

I’m carrying a pile of dirty plates into the dish area at the restaurant and a group of girls I work with are blocking my way. One of my male coworkers grabs two plates from me, “Let me get this for you.” After I set the rest down, the girls are still talking. I overhear them complaining about another girl we work with who is on the floor talking to a table. When the girl walks in, the others fall silent. It’s always like this; there is always one girl who is on the bad side of the rest for the week.

In college, I learned that girls are socialized to cooperate. Our childhood games, like playing house, are collaborative and involve reaching compromises. We are taught to be social and nurturing. My professors may be satisfied with that description of female behavior, but my coworkers and my high school friends tell a far different tale. When we grow out of pigtails, we enter a world in which competition vies with cooperation in the form of temporary alliances and enmity.

I brought this up to ask a simple question: when was the last time another woman complimented you? When was the last time a woman looked you in the eye and sincerely admitted to admiring something about you? When was the last time you complimented another woman? When was the last time you did it without comparing yourself to them (i.e. I wish I had such smooth skin as you do)?

I love to notice details about women. How the shade of a blouse brings out the color of her eyes, how lovely the necklace she’s wearing is, how silky her hair looks, how sensual her perfume is. I notice how graceful she moves, the notes of her laughter, the shape of her hips. Yet somehow, giving a simple compliment feels taboo. Even with your closest friends. It feels almost like too much intimacy; that I am showing a weakness or baring my heart.

How many of us only hear negative comments from other women? How does this help our self esteem? How does this help us empower one another? How can we have any sort of sisterhood when we have nothing good to say to one another?

How do we break away from this?

It’s time we invest in our self esteem enough to allow ourselves to like other women without fear that we will like ourselves less.

It’s time to come out of the “Compliment Closet” and stop being afraid of saying nice things to other women. We’re afraid they’ll think we’re coming on to them or we’re weird. We’re afraid of rejection or of our own words being used against us, but something has got to change.

I urge you to compliment one another sincerely. If you don’t feel it, then don’t say it, but if you think the shade she dyed her hair is amazing, say so. If you find yourself admiring her strength or passion, say so. Don’t be afraid of seeming silly. The genuine smile that lights her face is worth the risk.

Try to find something nice to say about every woman you meet. You don’t have to constantly be saying it out loud, but keep it in mind. You may assume your friends know you like them. It may be that they don’t know that you think that they are a great friend. Or maybe they just want to hear it. Tell them how lovely they are and how much you appreciate them. The positivity that you radiate will be reciprocated.

I say this as much for my benefit as for yours, and I am so grateful I now have a community like Hotel Bliss that exudes such positivity and admiration for one another. I hope we can maintain that attitude as we grow. I get perverse pleasure from quoting a Puritan but we are a city upon a hill. You ladies are shining examples for me and for others, so let’s show how wonderful, uplifting, creative, beautiful, and ethical bi girls can be.

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.