Bi-Curious? I Want To Seduce You. Category: Long and Satisfying.
NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s [and publisher’s] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to licence uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models
Something a little different for this post. I thought it would be fun if I made YOU a character in my story! I understand that it’s probably counterintuitive to reduce my potential readership for a post by making it especially for a specific sort of reader, namely a woman who is bi-curious or exploring or questioning their sexuality (where they have previously thought of themselves as being straight.)
Although I have personal experience of what that feels like, this was unexpectedly challenging to write, and I spent longer than usual agonising over it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!
Approximately a 16 minutes read.
***
You can’t stop thinking about it, can you? Ever since you were first sexually aware, you have, determinedly, resolutely, thought of yourself as being completely straight. Maybe your family had views about same-sex love, which made you push any such thoughts away. You’d catch yourself looking, though. Didn’t You? I know, because it was the same for me too. Perhaps there was another girl at school or a club you used to attend. She always seemed to look amazing, and you found that you kept thinking about her. Maybe there were a few occasions when you engineered to be alone with her, hoping, hoping that she might give you an indication that she felt the same way?
Perhaps you only more recently started to wonder what it would be like to be with a woman? What it would feel like to touch another woman’s flesh, her soft skin, so soft, her lips, glossy and opening to receive your kiss; perfumed hair brushing your cheek.
Have you ever touched yourself in bed or perhaps in the bath, imagining it? Do you have a female friend or colleague that you can’t stop thinking about in that way? Do you sometimes think about her when you’re having sex with your husband or boyfriend? You come harder when you imagine it’s her fingers or lips, don’t you?
Is that why you came here this evening? You know that this bar, while it’s not a lesbian bar specifically, is known as being a meeting place for girls who may not be out looking for boys, if I can put it that way.
***
You would be home alone tonight, and after wrestling with your anxiety about this, you have decided that you’ll just come out for a drink. Just one drink. Perfectly harmless and, you know, it would be good to see what goes on and get out of your comfort zone rather than simply put your comfies on and have a Netflix and take-out evening.
And so that’s why you are sitting at the end of the bar this Friday evening, in your black dress and heels, sipping on a Cosmo (they do make a great Cosmopolitan in this place – not drowned in cranberry like a lot of places are guilty of). You’re as nervous as hell, I can tell, as I watch you from my stool at the other end of the bar, and I smile to myself as I think that was me not so very long ago. You look lovely, I think, and, well, much better if I come and speak to you than one or two of the others who come in here; they’d eat you for breakfast. In any case, you really do look lovely, and I have a momentary image in my head of brushing your hair from your temple as I move in to kiss your soft lips. Before I know it, I have slid off my barstool and am making my way to the other end of the bar, my heart pounding.
I approach from the side and, as you notice me, you give a little start, eyes widening as I put my hand on the seat of the stool next to you.
***
‘Hi!’ I begin. I noticed you sitting all alone and wondered if you’d like some company? I’m on my lonesome as well.’ You wet your lips nervously. Your mouth has suddenly become a little dry.
You nod and smile, and I perch on the stool next to you. My dress is quite short, and I see you glancing down at my smooth thighs as I cross my legs towards you.
‘I’m Jaimie.’ I hold out my hand, and we do a little handshake as you tell me your name.
‘I’m glad to see you ordered the Cosmo,’ I say, ‘they’re really good here. They make a killer Negroni too, but I know that’s not everyone’s idea of fun!’
Before long, we’re chatting away like old friends. You’ve relaxed and we are giggling away and, well, there’s a little bit of touching too. I’m very tactile, so I can’t help it really. The first time I touch your hand, you freeze momentarily, but then, just as quickly, unfreeze, and before long, you are reciprocating. So, when I put my hand on your leg, while the bartender is fixing our next round of cocktails, you reciprocate.
The cocktails arrive, and we take a sip each. I hold your gaze as we do so, watching you take a sip of the ice-cold fluid, watching you swallow, and that familiar tingle spreads through my hips and loins. I offer you a sip of my drink, and you lean forward to taste. A little drip trickles down your chin, and I hook it with the index finger of my free hand. I extend my finger to your lips and I feel the soft warmth on my fingertip as you suck the drip of cocktail into your mouth.
***
Before I know what I’m doing, I lean in and, with my hand lightly under your chin, I kiss you. You re-freeze for a moment then kiss me back and, suddenly, so naturally, the spell of awkwardness between us is broken. I drag my stool in so that we are sitting shoulder to shoulder, angled towards each other and hands are now comfortable resting on thighs, sitting lightly on a waist, brushing back a lock of hair and tucking it behind an ear.
The shattering of any residual ice, as well as the punchy cocktails, has loosened tongues as well. I ask you about why you’re here, and you freely tell me that, after several years of fantasising, the fantasies were no longer hitting the spot, and you decided that you would come out this evening for a drink and see what happened. I ask you how you feel it’s going so far and you blush and nod and say that it has exceeded expectations so far and I think that I want to ravish you here and now for being so damned edible.
‘Would you like to come back to mine?’ I blurt out. ‘No problem if not, but I just felt that…well, if I’m honest and being completely selfish, I want it to be me that you have your first experience with. Sorry if that’s a bit direct, but I don’t want to play games.’
***
In ten minutes exactly, we have settled the bar tab, jumped in a black cab and are crossing town back to my place. We kiss in the back of the cab, and it is blissful – there’s tenderness and, at the same time, yearning. When we speak, your voice quavers with nerves, and I am determined that I will repay your trust and faith in me by making this evening as memorable as I can for you.
Arriving, I recognise that nerves are running high still, and I am anxious for you to feel that you are still in control, so I suggest that we share some pudding, a strange suggestion, perhaps. Still, I’ve often found that one shared dessert with two spoons can make for an ideal seduction device. I sit you down at the island in my kitchen, the light dimmed, and pour us both a glass of amaretto, clinking with a cube of perspiring ice. Sitting close together, I set a bowl between us with a couple of scoops of tiramisu and hand you a spoon. I find some suitably soft mood music and stream it through the kitchen speaker. ‘Cheers.’ We clink, and the cold, sticky-sweet drink is sipped. I scoop a spoonful of tiramisu and hold it to your lips; you receive it, and I replace the spoon with my lips. You taste of sweet coffee and almonds. We finish the pudding by feeding each other; watching you eating the food from the spoon which I am holding up for you is deeply erotic, and I can’t stop thinking about where else I want to feel your lips. Your face is flushed, and your eyes are wide and sparkling. ‘Shall we go somewhere more comfortable?’ I ask, and you nod.
***
I lead you through into my bedroom. I thought about going to the lounge and sitting with you on the sofa, since that might be less pressured for you, but we both know what’s going on here. There’s no pretending anymore; you want to do this, need to do it, and bed is the most comfortable place for your initiation.
We stand by the foot of my bed. You’re clearly unsure about what to do, and I know it will be my role to guide you. I take you in my arms, brushing your cheek with my fingers and then kiss you, gently at first as we explore the contours of each other’s lips, then, increasingly urgently as we pull each other close, pressing our bodies together. I strip your dress from you, and then I slip mine from my shoulders. You are staring, and it is arousing to see your nerves and anxieties being swept away by your desire for me, for this, for what we are about to do. We are both now just in our bras and knickers. I’m still wearing my heels; I want to know if you’d like me to keep them on for you? No, you love them, but no, you want us both to be naked. I walk around you and unhook your bra, then I slip my fingers into the band of your knickers and ease them down your thighs until they drop to your ankles. I quickly shed my underwear and move back so that we’re standing face to face, naked. You keep glancing down, seemingly not wanting to offend by staring at my nakedness. I take your hand and place it on my hip.
***
‘It’s OK to look,’ I say. ‘It’s OK to touch too. Do whatever you feel. Have you ever touched another woman before?’ You shake your head, and I feel your hand tremble a little.
‘I want you to touch me,’ I say. ‘Anywhere, everywhere.’
We stand like that while you begin touching me. You start with my hips, my arms and my shoulders, then, growing braver, your fingertips move inwards from my upper arm to brush against my breast. I shiver with desire. As you grow bolder, I follow suit, touching, stroking, and exploring. I turn around so that my back is to you and, reaching behind me, take hold of your hands and pull you towards me. I shudder again as I feel your warm breasts pressing against my back. Taking your hands, I place them, palms down, over my breasts. Your face, just over my shoulder, is nuzzled into my neck, and I feel your hot breath against my ear. This is really getting to me and, moving my thighs together realise that I am becoming very wet. Your hands now, moving, stoking and caressing my boobs as I reach backwards and stroke the tops of your thighs with my fingertips.
***
Again, I sense some hesitation, so I take your right hand and gently lift it from my breast, moving your hand down and placing it on my lower belly. Your hand begins to move again, and deliciously, it starts to track lower. I shift my stance slightly so that my thighs part, and, taking the hint, your fingers snake down over my smooth, freshly waxed mound until you reach the spot I’ve been longing for you to touch. Your fingertips, ever so light, brush across my clitoris – hard and prominent now – causing me to shudder again and dig my nails into your thigh. You lightly stroke up and down. You have clocked how aroused I am, and I cover your fingers in my lubrication as they stroke; I’m open to you, my inner lips engorged and sensitive. I feel like I could come at any moment, and this won’t do just yet. I turn to face you and kiss you, my hands on your backside, pulling you against me.
‘You nearly made me come already,’ I breathe into your ear. ‘Are you sure you haven’t done this before?’
***
Taking your hand, I lead you around to the side of the bed and indicate that you should lie down, which you do, your head propped on a pillow and your knees drawn up. I shuffle onto the bed and, placing my hands on your knees, slowly separate them. You allow your legs to fall open, and I reposition myself so that I’m lying on my front, between them. I kiss your inner thighs, which makes you jolt and giggle, and then, after a minute or two, pant and squirm. I keep this up for a little while, switching between legs and moving slowly upwards until I am almost, but not quite, where you want me to be. I continue to kiss your inner thighs, now giving little nips with my teeth as well, so close to your pussy that I am becoming intoxicated with the scent of you. I can see your labia glistening with your lubrication. I can tell that you can’t tolerate being dangled in this way much longer.
‘Please,’ you say at last. ‘Oh, please.’
‘Please? Please, what?’ I’m in the mood for a little bit of teasing.
‘You know, please.’
‘No. I don’t. Tell me.’
‘Please just do it!’
‘Do what? You have to tell me what you want me to do.’
I look up with amusement. Your face is flushed, and there is a sheen of perspiration on your brow and top lip. You are trembling again, too. I wait to see if you will break.
Your eyes meet mine, and in an instant, the resistance is gone.
‘I want you to lick me. I want you to lick my fucking pussy and make me come.’
‘There,’ I say, ‘that wasn’t so hard, was it?’
***
I duck my head immediately. The delay has been torture for me, too, and I’m not in the mood for more teasing. I run the flat of my tongue the full length of you before fastening my mouth over your blushing pink slit. You taste divine, and I set about my task like a gourmand who has had her favourite meal served to her, which is, in fact, exactly what has happened. I’m running my tongue – alternating flat and then tip – up the length of you, over and over, my mouth clamped over your mound. I’m making slurping noises and, I realise, groaning sounds in the back of my throat. I’m so turned on and I don’t care; I want to devour you.
Switching things up a little, but keeping my lips fastened to you, I find the entrance to your vagina with the tip of my tongue and begin circling it, round and round then the other way, plunging my tongue forwards and as far into you as it can go in between each change of swirling direction. This seems to be a successful move, as you start to moan and press your bottom against the bed, grinding yourself forward against my face. The first rule of orgasm hunting is, when you find something which is really working, keep doing it. So that’s what I do. Your hips are beginning to twitch, and your moans are becoming louder and more urgent in tone. I feel your hands on my head, holding me hard against you as I increase the tempo of my tongue, focusing the primary pressure from my tongue at the upper part of your pussy so that it is working against your clit, each flick now seeming to bring a moan and jolt from you.
***
The moans and jolts suddenly become continuous, and I keep myself fastened to you as you buck in the throes of your orgasm.
After, you are keen to reciprocate. You’ve never touched, let alone given oral to a woman before tonight, and you are anxious to experience it. I tell you that nothing will give me greater pleasure, and you can believe that I am not going to let you leave until I have held your head between my legs like you have just done with me while I come hard on your tongue. I know, though, that your clitoris will still be fizzing after you come, and I want to show you another trick while there is still a good chance of us experiencing a mutual orgasm. I arrange us, and you comply as I direct.
We are now half-sitting, half-reclining, in the ‘scissors’ position. It’s a favourite of mine, but it takes a little care to get the position and angles right. I’m conscious that, being completely inexperienced, I’m asking a lot. However, I sense that if we can get lucky this could be incredible, my clit still feeling tingly and sensitive from your earlier attentions with your fingertips.
***
I suggest that you remain fairly still and let me try to find the right angle and rhythm. You oblige, but I can see from the look on your face that this is both shocking and deeply arousing for you. Our soft warm thighs are entwined and, with a little bit of wriggling and adjusting, our pussies can now brush against each other as I begin to slowly rock my hips, all the while trying to calibrate the angle and length of each rock. My focus keeps constantly drifting as the sensation of our softest parts, both very wet now and mingling as they slide slickly against each other, keeps stealing my thoughts.
I manage to lock into an angle of tilt with my hips and a tempo that hits the spot, both literally and metaphorically, for both of us. You throw your head back, and I see your mouth open with delight as I work to employ all of my self-control to maintain the sensations. Frankly, it’s all I can do to stop myself from coming. I could at any moment, and it is just will power that is holding it back. God, I hope you get there soon, because I’m going to explode if I don’t come soon. As it always does, the ‘headspace’ aspect of this position – the intermingling of our fluids which are seeping from us and lubricating the folds and little hard nubs which are our clits – is intoxicating.
I begin to hear the shift in your breathing and the intensity of your little moans, which I recognise from earlier as the onset of your orgasmic final approach. I try to hang on as best I can, determined that we will finish together or, as close to it as I can manage.
***
Your orgasm comes on quicker this time and almost catches me out. As I feel you tipping over, I increase the pressure and tempo with my hips. It suddenly all feels very wet and slick, and I give myself permission to come. I do immediately, grabbing at your thighs and fastening my mouth to the smooth skin of your lower leg as I am swept away in ecstasy.
A little later, we have disentangled our limbs and, at your request (it’s not a hardship at all, really), I recline while you go down on me. I marvel at how well women give head to another woman, even when they have no experience. It must be a matter of knowing what you want and what you like to have done to you. I reason that it must be the same for gay men. If you have a penis, you have a head start on knowing what feels good to do to another penis…
I come hard, and I can tell that you’re rather pleased with yourself, as your first attempt has clearly gone very well.
Later, when the Uber arrives to collect you and take you home, we swap numbers. This has been far too sweet and intense for it to be a one-off.
Love, Jaimie xx
Links and Stuff.
The stockings in the picture? Ballarina again. I’ll never stop banging on about them; they are so lush. They are even perfumed. Perfumed! What a time to be alive.
I’m writing this at the beginning of Pride month. I am well aware that there is a certain amount of politicisation about this topic. As far as I am concerned, it’s about being able to be open about who you love. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but somehow it is. Whatever your position on this topic, let’s all just remember to be kind.
Jaimie
I’m sharing my stories online for free, because it’s nice, isn’t it, to share things with people and start conversations? If you read one of my stories (hopefully more than one!) I would love it if you would take the time to comment. It takes a lot of time, effort and sometimes emotions, to write my best for you. It’s encouraging to receive a response, so if you could spare a moment to please drop a comment, that would be wonderful! Your email address will not appear in the comment.
