Hotel Bliss Guest Blog

Tales of a Dancer - “The First Installment”

  She put on black slacks, a dressy, low-cut, sexy shirt, and pulled on the black high heeled boots.  The flat-iron clamped on each clump of already-straight black hair.  Each one had to be in place.  She needed this.

  She carefully covered each blemish on her face with the pale base make-up.  Her eyeliner had to be straight.  Her lips had to be red.  Her eyelashes had to be curled.  If she didn’t get this, where would they go? 

  He had told her she didn’t have to do it.  But she knew she did.  He was visibly angry at himself for allowing this to happen.  Why couldn’t he do more?  Why couldn’t he get another job…maybe two?  Why was she being so stubborn about this?  But he knew she needed to do it.  It was the only way.

  She held her breath and tried not to think about it as she gripped the steering wheel. 

It’s okay. You can do it.

  Her very christian childhood prohibited sex, petting, or even talking intimately before marriage.  Kissing was to be EXTREMELY limited and reserved for those who were engaged…and now it had come to this.  How could she? 

I mustn’t think about that.

  She pulled into the bare parking lot in midday and was a little ashamed, hoping nobody had seen her turn in the driveway.  The gold on the handle of the giant wooden door was beginning to wear from use.  She pulled it open and stepped into the dark lobby.  The young, thin girl at the front desk looked at her blankly. 

“Yes?”

  The vibe was not a friendly one.

“I’m here for an interview.  I called on Friday and was told to come in today.”

  Of course they weren’t going to give her the job over the phone.  It was just contract labor, but what if you were ugly?  What if you were fat?  They had to see you before they gave you an answer.

“Hold on.”

  She picked up her cell phone and called the Manager.

“There’s someone here to see you for an interview.”

  Even the doorgirl was pretty.  Very exotic looking.  Half black, with a very light complexion.  Much thinner than the interviewee, something she noticed right away.  As a little girl she’d been very thin, but around 4th grade she ballooned out.  It had been hard to keep the weight off ever since.  She wasn’t fat, by any means, though sometimes she felt that way.  Still, her stomach wasn’t ‘flat’, and she was very self conscious about it.

There’s no way I’m going to get this.

“He’ll be up in a minute.”

Great.  Just in time to tell me I”m disgusting - “how could you even think I could get THIS job?”.

  She peeked a bit through the narrow entry way, trying to get a first glimpse of what was inside.  So dark.  A couple of men, older, dressed nicely.  No girls in sight.  Oh, but there was one sitting with a younger guy. 

Oh god.  I’m going to have to wear something like that.  How am I going to cover my stomach while I sit?

  A man in his thirties showed up in the doorway.

“Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Chris.”

  He noticeably looked her up and down, assessing her value.

“Follow me, please.”

He didn’t tell me to leave.  

  When she entered the giant room, she looked towards the stage.  Quite large, with one pole close to the front rounded edge.  A girl was exiting stage right, where there appeared to be a backroom that another gal was coming out from. 

  On the other side of the room was another, smaller stage that was freestanding.  There was one brown pole, the paint worn away from use, directly in the middle and it was surrounded by other poles in a cagelike manner.  It was empty.

  The manager led her into a small, lit room at the back of the club.  She could only assume this was to better see her figure. 

“You’re very pretty.  Have you ever danced before?”

“No, I haven’t.  I’ve waitressed alot.  I even bartended a little.”

“Have you ever been to a strip club before?”

“No, sir.  This is my first time.”

“Hmm.  Well, I think you’ll make lots of money.  Here’s how it works:  When you come in for a shift, you pay the doorgirl $25.  That’s what it costs to work here, but don’t worry you’ll make much more than that.  There’s a locker room in the back, near the ladies’ restroom, and it enters the front stage.  The second stage is only used at nights when the club is full.  You will dance two songs on the front stage, the first in lingerie, the second with your top off.  Panties stay on.  Don’t let anyone touch you while you’re on stage.  When the second stage is open you will step down off the front stage immediately after your set, and enter second stage.  Dance there during the next girls’ set.  In between your dance sets, talk to the men and have them buy you drinks, it’s good for the club.  Convince them to go to a back room and give them a dance.  It’s $20 for one dance.”

“What rooms?”

“Come on.”

  He left the lit room and pointed to both long sides of the rectangular shaped club.

“See the doorways?  They lead to short hallways with 2 rooms each off of them.  The last one there by the women’s restroom has three rooms.  When you dance for them, no sex.  You’re supposed to stay 6 feet away from them, but of course no one does that and we won’t say anything.  Just know that if the music turns off, get as far away from the guy as possible.  It’s probably a raid.”

She looked at him oddly.  A raid?

Nevermind, I’ll ask later.

“You will start out during the day shift, until you get the hang of it, and then you can work the night shift.  What is your stage name?”

“Oh, I, hadn’t really thought about it…”

“Dream?  Cat?”

Men.

She looked over the bar, at the T.V.  A commercial came on, advertising a flower shop.

“Rose.”

“Okay, Rose.  Write your social security number down here and we’ll see you tomorrow at 11 a.m.  Make sure you use the sign-in sheet when you come in, and don’t forget to pay the doorgirl.”

An Introduction

You can call me Lola. I’m a sex-worker. I’ve been working in the business for almost a year. I wanted to post a bit about escorts in general before I tell any tales simply because there is so much misconception and revulsion for those of us who take this path.

Hollywood and popular culture will tell you that I’m a woman who was abused. That I’m a victim. That I’m just waiting for my Prince Charming to come ”rescue” me. That I’m hooked on drugs and walking the street trying to make enough to support my habit. . .and my pimp’s habit. Or that I’m just a whore who can’t remember how to cross her ankles.

In my time as a sex-worker, I have met a lot of girls who meet all those stereotypes and go a whole lot deeper into Hell than I ever want to go.  But there is a smaller group that I call home.  We are smart, charming, conversational, witty. . .and loving.  We provide what is called a GFE. . .A Girlfriend Experience. All the good parts of having a girlfriend without any of the drama a relationship or affair can cause.  I spend more time talking and listening and providing a hug and a kind word than I do having sex.  I am a counselor, a friend, a confidante.  

My average client is a man over 60.  He’s either married and in a sexless marriage or widowed and lonely.  They have the disposable income to pay for vacations and hobbies and anything else they want. And what they want is someone who will always be loving and kind and compassionate.  Someone who will greet them with a smile and a kiss, hold them while they cry out their childhood trauma, rub their shoulders and make them feel adored.  Any friend can rub your back, but you PAY a massage therapist to do it right.  There’s no difference, really.  We are professional girlfriends. 

As for me, specifically. I’ve always had a circle of friends who knew they could call on me in times of need.  I love unconditionally and share myself openly with those I love.  It’s just hard-wired into me.  Some of my earliest memories include sitting in my highchair, kissing boys, and masturbating.  Some of you will be sure that I was molested or abused in some way. Trust me when I say I’ve explored that path from end to end and there’s nothing dark in my past.  I’ve come to the point where I just chalk it up to ultra-speedy reincarnation.  Suffice it to say I’ve been a sexual being for every concious moment of my life.  So, I was already living the life-style long before I got paid. It was only a small step for me to start getting paid just for being myself.

So, I’m here to share. . .and break down prejudice. . .and just basically to open perspectives. Feel free to ask questions or comment.

Thanks for reading
Lola

**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.

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

HOW TO ADD PICTURES TO YOUR HOTEL ROOM

At Hotel Bliss, bi-girls and bi-friendly girls get to know you by visiting your Hotel Room. By using the profile editor, you can add text and change the colors of your room. One thing that you may not know, is you can decorate your hotel room with pictures and this blog will show you how.

1. CREATE A FREE PHOTO HOSTING ACCOUNT ON FLICKR.COM

2. IF YOU DO NOT HAVE A YAHOO ADDRESS, CLICK ON THE LINK TO SIGN UP BELOW THE LOG IN BOX.

3. SIGN INTO FLICKR.COM AND THIS WINDOW WILL APPEAR.

4. CLICK ON UPLOAD YOUR FIRST PHOTO. NOW YOU CAN UPLOAD THE IMAGES YOU WANT TO DECORATE YOUR ROOM WITH.

5. ONCE YOUR PHOTOS ARE UPLOADED, CLICK ON THE IMAGE YOU WANT TO ADD TO YOUR ROOM. ABOVE THE IMAGE, YOU WILL SEE A LINK CALLED “ALL SIZES”. CLICK ON “ALL SIZES” TO SEE THE DIFFERENT SIZES YOUR IMAGE WILL BE ON YOUR PAGE.

6. PICK THE IMAGE SIZE YOU WANT. IN THIS EXAMPLE, WE PICKED THE MEDIUM SIZE.

7. UNDER THE IMAGE IT SAYS, COPY AND PASTE THIS HTML INTO YOUR WEBPAGE. COPY THE CODE AND GO BACK TO YOUR HOTEL BLISS PROFILE EDITOR.

8. IN YOUR PROFILE EDITOR, YOU CAN ADD IMAGES TO ANY OF THE PROFILE BOXES. JUST PAST THE HTML CODE FROM FLICKR.COM INTO THE BOX, LIKE THIS:

9. SAVE YOUR PROFILE AND THEN CLICK VIEW PROFILE. YOUR HOTEL ROOM WILL NOW HAVE PICTURES AND LOOK LIKE THIS:

REMEMBER: YOU CAN ADD AS MANY IMAGES TO YOUR ROOM AS YOU WANT.
ENJOY! BE CREATIVE! HAVE FUN!
IF YOU HAVE ANY OTHER DESIGN TIPS OR PROBLEMS, COMMENT BACK HERE.
XOXOXOXO
BLISS WARRIOR

TIE ME UP, TIE ME DOWN – A BI-GIRL SHARES HER FIRST S&M EXPERIENCE

Dearest Readers, Daphne is a New York bi-girl who recently started exploring light BDSM play. We are delighted to have her share the story of the first time her lover tied her up and deliciously tormented her. XOXOXOXO BLISS WARRIOR

As a bi-girl I have always had an active fantasy life. I remember as a little girl when we played Cops and Robbers, I always wanted to get handcuffed. As a teenager, I was the ‘naughty’ schoolgirl, always wanting to be punished. I can’t remember a time I didn’t have the desire of being tied up but was too shy to say anything.

A few years ago, a lover who was quite dominant knew right away what I needed. Before our date, he called me with the following instructions: leave the door ajar, dress in my sexiest black lingerie and leave my high heels on. “When you finish dressing, kneel on the bed and wear a blindfold,” he said.

When he got to my apartment, I was so excited, I could barely stand it. I could hear his every move. I wanted to rip the blindfold off. I could hear the rustle of his jeans, the music as he put it on, the equipment as he laid it out. He seemed to take forever.

“Put your arms up,” he said. Finally, I thought. He tied me up with expertise in two minutes flat. I was almost unable to breathe. He turned me over. Kissed me gently all everywhere. I imagined that he was my female roommate from college because his mouth was so gentle, and so like a woman’s. I was almost at the verge of coming by his touch alone. That’s what being tied up did to me.

I tried to squirm free but couldn’t move. He had secured my ankles as well, which was maddening. I kept rubbing up against him to no avail. He undid the ankle clasp, and, slowly, began to tease me. I thought I was going explode. I screamed, I came. He didn’t let up. I couldn’t stop him because I didn’t have the use of my hands. I tried to headlock him with my knees, but he was stronger than I was.

And, I was glad I couldn’t stop him. It really felt quite good.

He then proceeded to use a dildo on me: one of my very own and one of my favorites. It reminded me of an ex-girlfriend.

I was about to come again, and then he stopped, and slapped me rather hard. I wasn’t expecting this, but I liked it.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue,” he demanded. I did as I was told, though I was a bit frightened. He put a substance that was familiar yet I could not place it, on my tongue. “Swallow.” I did. “Did you like it?” he asked. “Yes.” I said. “Good.” He put some more in my mouth and kissed me. I would find out later it was whipped cream he had whipped himself.

He then took a feather and tickled me until I almost fainted. “Stop!” He wouldn’t listen. The more I begged, the worse things got. One thinks of S&M as just pain, but there’s torture in far less painful things than slapping and things of that nature.

He finally quit tickling me and whispered into my skin, “What do you want me to do?”

“Use the whip,” I pleaded. I have a very cute, very lightweight, leather flogger that when used properly leaves no marks. He used it for a few minutes so very lightly that it tickled me. Then he did it a little harder.

By this time a few hours had passed and we still hadn’t had sex. Ladies, this is a great reason to be into BDSM. You get to have many orgasms, then have sex, and have more orgasms. Men are about your pleasure. And, by the time you do get to sex, you’re very open.

INTERESTED IN ADDING A LITTLE S&M INTO YOUR SEXUAL PLAY?

1. BABELAND IS A GREAT STORE TO PURCHASE S&M TOYS
Babeland is a great place to find S&M toys here in New York (click here to see their website). They also have shops in Los Angeles and Seattle, if you’re on the West Coast. The women are all super friendly, bi or lesbian themselves often times. I’ve never felt uncomfortable there buying anything from a strap-on to lube. I can ask them ton of questions and they answer them all matter-of-factly. They have a section on bondage play for the novice to the pro.

2. NEED SOME S&M TRAINING? VISIT A DOMINATRIX WITH A FRIEND
Another really fun adventure for the daring, is to take a girlfriend and visit a dominatrix together. I did this once with my friend, Melissa, and we had a great time. The dominatrix gave us a lesson in bondage and slapping. In fact, she told me I slapped too hard! I didn’t know there was such a thing. She said to mix it up with light kissing and blowing. It was better than a day at the spa! Both of us thought we knew a thing or two about sex, but we left feeling like neophytes and were excited to learn the ‘ropes’.

3. S&M TOYS YOU CAN FIND IN YOUR OWN HOME
Even if you live in a place where getting toys seems difficult, there is always the Internet. But it’s really fun to see what you have at home to use in S&M play. I’ve discovered all sorts of fun things to use with my lover: clothespins, duct tape, yoga straps, candles, etc. You never know what you might have in your closet. And you would be surprised by what a turn-on they can be for your man, as well. He might just be waiting for you to ask…

XOXOXOXO
DAPHNE

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ENJOYED DAPHNE’S FIRST BLOG AND WOULD LIKE TO READ MORE?
CHECK OUT HER BLOGS PUBLISHED ON MRBELLERSNEIGHBORHOOD.COM:
NAUGHTY AND NOT NICE ON CRAIGSLIST
HETEROFLEXIBILITY
MANHATTAN SEX CLUBS: THEY HAVE THEIR UPS AND DOWNS
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IF YOU ENJOYED THIS BLOG, YOU MAY ENJOY READING:
BLISS WARRIOR’S ELEVEN INSANELY HOT SAPPHIC SCENES
NEED A LITTLE LUBRICATION?
HOW MANY WAYS CAN YOU CLIMAX?

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HAVE A STORY TO SHARE? EMAIL ME AT bliss@blisswarrior.com
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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?
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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