LJ’s Story

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This is a story told in first person; it is done in a memoir style of sorts. It is long winded, quite wordy and I’d classify it more as a romance rather than your usual erotica. There are sexy descriptions within, but they are not the main object of this undertaking. If you’re not happy with this, you can exit now. You have been warned. All main plot characters are of legal age (18+). All persons, names and locations may, or may not be a figment of my overzealous imagination, but I’ll leave that up to you to decide.

This is my first attempt at writing lesbian romance and erotica so please be gentle, I try my best even though I know that may not be enough.

I dedicate this story to the females of my life. To my mother who taught me to be gentle, respectful and caring about women and their feelings. To my wife who is the bright, shining star in my life and who encourages me to write. To my daughter who can melt my resolve with just the tiniest of smiles. To all my female friends who honor me with their trust and friendship.


The Beginning

I often get the same old cliché question: “how did you know you were a lesbian?” This, I must tell you, annoys me to no end. Do I go about asking you how you learnt to breathe? Then again, perhaps I’m being a bit too snappy about it. Because I certainly didn’t have it that clear cut in my head when I was younger.

I guess some introductions are in order. I could give you any kind of phony name but there’s no point in that. You can just call me Jennifer because I like the sound of it. I’m 35 years of age and my most striking feature would be my height; for a female I stand at an impressive 6 feet and my weight is…well my weight is irrelevant, you should know better than ask a lady about that. Let’s just say that I’m not a super model.

The good news is that I exercise regularly, eat sensibly and I’m blessed with good genes from my father’s side which keeps the weight evenly distributed throughout my body. My hair is wavy dark brown, (read: unruly dark brown) which I keep at shoulder length; 99% of the time you’ll find it tied in a ponytail. For the rest of my facial features, you’ll find same colored eyes and wire framed glasses. My skin has an earthly tint to it which in all likelihood has to do with my Mediterranean heritage.

I grew up in a stable and loving family. My parents provided us, me and my younger sister, with a loving and comfortable environment. Due to my father’s work we had to move around quite a bit which for me meant changing many neighborhoods and schools.

Elisabeth, my sister, had no problem what so ever with making the adjustments. She was always an extrovert; very popular at school, a gifted athlete and a good student when she made the effort, she never had problems making new friends.

I, on the other hand, was a different story. Always conscious of my abnormal height and less than perfect (at least in my eyes) body image, I always created a protective wall around me pushing people away.

When puberty made its appearance things became a bit more complicated for me. A sudden growth spurt meant that I now towered above everyone which made the boys especially nervous around me. My breasts were rather smallish for my frame and my tummy seemed to sag with baby fat. But all my self-image issues where child’s play if compared to my explosive sexual desires.

The first encounter

Just when I thought I had mastered the whole womanhood thing, my hormones decided once more to shake my world to its very core. I was in my senior year at high school and I had barely passed my eighteenth birthday. It was a Friday evening and I had returned home right after swimming practice. As was my usual modus operandi I had checked out my fellow swimmers at the lockers but not with a sexual undertone in it. It was, as I thought then, mere curiosity on my part. You know, she has big boobs, hers are non-existent, she shaves, I wish I had a butt like hers and so on.

There was this particular blonde to whom my eyes would linger and return. She wasn’t from my school but we occasionally shared a lane during practice. Her name was Brittany and she was probably a newcomer to our town because no one from the team seemed to recall her presence. She was tall and lean, shorter than me but then again almost everyone was and that was something with which I had reconciled myself.

She had the loveliest strawberry blond hair, matched with pale blue eyes and the cutest dusting of freckles on her face. Her breasts were probably the same size as mine, but she did have a decent six pack and a very firm butt. Oh and best of all, the rug did match the curtains, a fact which, for some reason, I found fascinating.

She was the exact antithesis of my body image. I was a giant with unimpressive dark brown hair and eyes and she was a light tanned graceful beauty seemingly plucked out of a fairytale. escort bursa In hindsight, I was probably smitten by her but back then I barely had a clue about attraction between people, much less about being attracted to a member of the same sex.

That night, I collapsed early in my bed as I was utterly exhausted from a full day at school and a two hour swim practice on top. I don’t have any recollection of how much time had passed, but I remember, as if it was yesterday, having this incredibly hot dream about me and the blonde from practice. She was lying on top of me naked and her face was inching itself forward. I closed my eyes in anticipation of what? A kiss?

I suddenly lurched from my bed completely startled. What was that all about? What was happening to me? And why did I feel all soaked down there? Why was I having this dream? I tried to float back to sleep but I felt hot, bothered and my genitals felt sticky and congested. I decided that if I was to get a wink of sleep I had to relieve myself so I tentatively sunk a hand underneath my pajamas.

Things down there felt unbelievably slick, it was the first time I had ever experienced such a degree of wetness. Swirling my fingers around my clit, I could feel that my relief was not very far down the road. Closing my eyes, I proceeded to savage my clit. And then, the dream replayed itself with crystal clear clarity. Before my mind had any chance to logically comprehend what had happened a tremendously powerful orgasm crashed in waves of pleasure through my body. It just went on and on and my body was consumed like a fourth of July firecracker. Panting from my exertions but blissfully happy, I drifted off to a much needed slumber.

Waking up the next day, the stickiness in my panties reminded me of what had transpired during the night. The orgasm had been one for the books but the dream which had provoked those highly explosive feelings was troubling me. In the end, I decided to chalk it up to my raging hormones and not give much more thought to it.

That day at swim practice I tried to rush through the lockers and the showers as fast as I could in order to avoid bumping into Brittany. By a cruel twist of fate though, our coach decided to pair us in the same lane for practice. She went in first; “please don’t stare at her butt…please don’t stare at her butt…” I chanted over and over in my mind. But there she was right in front of me. Despite the frothing water being whipped around by her powerful legs, I could catch glimpses of her milky white legs as they ended in the cleft of her buttocks.

Believe me, I tried hard to shake off the image; I tried counting tiles, I tried concentrating on my style, nothing worked. In the end, I received a severe tongue lashing from my coach for not paying enough attention to his instructions. With my head hanging low with shame, I made a premature exit to the lockers. “Hey Jennifer, wait up!” It was Brittany hurriedly trying to catch up with me.

“What was that all about?”

“Well the coach chewed my head off. He was right. I wasn’t into it today. Too many mistakes.”

“We all have bad days Jen. Don’t let this get to you.”

I managed a sad smile towards her. Then I remembered the reason for my lack of performance and quickly retreated to my locker. It turned out that Brittany had her stuff that day right next to mine.

“Oh shoot! I forgot my shampoo when I switched bags earlier. Could you lend me some?

“Errr…sure…I’ll just take a quick shower and then it’s all yours.”

“I’m in a bit of a pinch here, need to scoot quickly to my next classes…Could we perhaps share a shower head? That way we’ll finish real quick.”

“I…sure…go ahead.”

We proceeded to strip from our wet Speedos in an awkward silence. I kept my head down and my eyes glued to the floor lest they stray towards her. Suddenly I felt acutely embarrassed to be naked inside a locker room and that was definitely a first for me. “I’m ready when you are,” I distantly heard her say. Well this is it, I thought.

Picking up my shampoo bottle I headed towards the shower head where Brittany was already soaking under the steaming water. Despite the best of my efforts my eyes did stray towards her naked body. And that was it; I was transfixed! All perception of my surroundings suddenly dimmed and all I could see was her alabaster skin as it glowed under the hot water. My eyes travelled from her toned thighs upwards, past her curly blonde hair covering her sex, past her rippling six-pack and onwards.

In what felt like ten or twelve seconds but was probably just a couple, I had devoured her with my eyes. And to make matters worse, I had been none too subtle about it. She had caught me staring at her. I felt like a deer caught in a car’s headlamps; I felt my cheeks burning with embarrassment and I wished for the floor tiles to open up and consume me.

As my mind was processing bursa merkez escort my predicament with almost light speed efficiency, my ears registered a peculiar sound. “You look cute when you blush,” I heard somewhere in the distance. But when the sound did register with my dazzled brain, my head stooped in shame.

We proceeded to shower in silence. Against my better judgment, my eyes darted and lingered towards her. And then our gazes locked. I felt spellbound; I could not shake it off. She flashed me a thousand watt smile which sent shivers down my spine. Why was she affecting me like that? And why was I feeling all hot and bothered? What is happening to me?

“Earth calling Jennifer! Hey you!”

“Oh…emmmm…sorry…I was lost in my thoughts.”

“Obviously! You’re my hero you know. I’d hate to have to go around all day smelling like bleach. Thank you!”

“Oh…err…you’re welcome…it’s nothing really…”

We continued to dress. On came my plain white cotton brief in that most comic of moments, where you have to lift your damp feet off the ground and pass them through the proper holes all the while making sure you don’t touch the fabric or lose your balance. Oh and I forgot about having your crotch exposed in mid-air in front of a co-swimmer for whom your body suddenly decided that you have the hots for. Or so it thinks. And then your bloody eyes, obviously having a mind of their own and probably enjoying a laugh at your expense, casually drift towards the above mentioned co-swimmer who happens to be wearing a pink tanga, which happens to showcase said swimmer’s ass.

That’s when you’re faced with the following problem; you’re embarrassed because you’re wearing this rag of an undergarment because your mother refuses to allow you to buy anything remotely “sexy”. You want the earth to open up and swallow you whole because, once more, you have been caught with your hand in the cookie jar, ogling, like a stupid jock would, your co-swimmer’s assets. And, to crown it all, you have your mind screaming at you “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? WHY ARE YOU STARING AT HER?”

But then, our gazes met once more and this time it wasn’t funny. We both looked into each other’s eyes just searching. Searching for what exactly? Brittany broke it first by giving me that sunny smile of hers. “Well I’ll see you round Jen. Thanks a million for the shampoo.” And just like that she spun on her heels and left me with a million unsolved questions in my mind.

After my classes were over, I ignored everyone and raced back home. I was on a mission; I was going to find out more about what was happening to me. I needed to know if it was just me or if others were experiencing the same feelings. My father had recently purchased a home computer which was installed in our family room. He had showed me how to use it and how to browse through the internet.

Nowadays, PCs and for that matter all kinds of electronic devices, are fairly proliferate. Back then, we certainly belonged to a minority of families owning a home computer. I knew that I had maybe about an hour at my disposal before my parents and my sister came back home so I had to be really quick.

After seeing the familiar “Windows 95” logo come to life, I immediately clicked on the blue “e” shortcut which led to the ether world. After about fifteen minutes of freaky porn sites and other dead ends, I ended up with a link about girls and their first time experiences. In this site there were stories about girls sharing their first kisses with other girls, how they felt about it and how they came to realize that they were, in fact, attracted to the same sex.

Browsing through these stories had two major effects on me. One, some of these stories represented a major revelation for me. Pieces of the puzzle started forming in my mind. So did I really like girls? Was I bisexual? Was I…a lesbian? Because from what I was reading, the tick boxes were being ticked and the writing was beginning to be seen on the wall.

The other major effect was that, reading these stories had aroused me to the point that I could feel the dampness in my underwear. A quick glance of the system clock showed me that I had perhaps fifteen minutes to take matters into my own hands. The congestion I felt in my groin suggested that, in fact, I should do just that.

Shutting down the computer, I rushed to my bedroom but left my door open. I wanted to be able to hear should anyone arrive at the house. This was a mistake which I was going to pay for later in the future but that’s a different story for a different chapter. For the time being, I unceremoniously stripped off my clothing and plopped on my bed.

Closing my eyes I began sliding my hand down my tummy towards my pulsating groin. My right hand slipped underneath the waistband of my panties and my fingers twirled around the curls of my pubic hair. As my fingers descended further, I could feel bursa escort and smell the uniqueness of my scent, a clear sign of my heightened arousal. The first contact with my exposed clitoris made my breath catch and sent a delightfully pleasant shiver coursing through my spine. Images of Brittany changing into her pink tanga and then showering next to me flashed through my mind.

The stories I had read a few minutes earlier started to rerun through my mind, only now Brittany was the star of their narrative. My right hand started picking up speed as it begun to rub up and down the hooded shaft of my clitoris. My left hand, not to be left idle, was busy squeezing and pinching my nipples after having pushed up my bra.

The buildup was absolutely massive and unlike anything I had felt before; my breathing was coming in shallow gasps and small whines of pleasure involuntarily escaped my mouth. My hand reached a frenzied crescendo which almost scared me; I had never before masturbated with such a desperate need for release. And then, just when my mind focused on Brittany’s smiling, freckled face I came hard.

Exquisitely pleasurable pulses radiated from my genitals outwards, consuming my body in flames of ecstasy. My legs at first stiffened like boards and then clenched tightly around my marauding hand as I assumed a fetal position on the bed. The pulses continued but with diminishing intensity. My index finger continued its ministrations in an unhurried, leisurely pace, tracing a course through the folds of my inner and outer lips. An occasional pulse of pleasure would send chills and shivers through my body. The feeling of satisfaction that I felt could not be described with words.

And then, I heard the door to our house creak open. “Jennifer…we’re home honey!” was all I managed to register before my panic hit me like a bucket of ice water in the face. Scrambling to action, I managed to somehow wear my jeans over my now sodden panties before I heard my father’s voice:



“Sorry…I’m sorry…”

“I’m trying to get changed here if you don’t mind!”

“Errr…terribly sorry my dear…why didn’t you close your door?”

“Because you guys have a policy of no closed doors in the house? Does that sound familiar?”

“Oh…err…yes…Errr…Are you all right? Your skin seems a bit flushed. Are you ill or something?”

“DAD! NO! I was trying to get changed here and you startled me. Now go away so I can wear something!”

“Ok…ok…See you in a bit then.”

Phew! Moments like these make you grow old. That was really close and I had to be a bit more careful in the future, I thought.


As the days passed by I ended up being drawn more and more by Brittany just like a moth is being lured by flame. No matter what I did or what I tried I could not shake or deny my feelings for her. I actively pursued and eventually succeeded in becoming close friends with her. Any excuse to be with her, to be able to glimpse that shiny smile of hers, was good for me.

My friends and schoolmates, some of whom I had known since we first moved into town rightfully complained that I was neglecting them; that I was absent minded and somewhere away most of the time. This was true; I was daydreaming about Brittany and I even got reprimanded from my teachers in a couple of classes because of that. I could lie to myself all I wanted, but there were definitely feelings there for her.

But I was starting to hope, against all hope, that maybe, just maybe, there was an inkling of feelings for me from her side. She would always pick a locker right next to mine during swimming practice. We had traded phone numbers (remember, no mobiles back then) and emails; we started hanging out on our sparse free time. Then, we would phone each other and speak for hours over the phone over this and that, over the screaming protests of our parents who could not use the line.

Finally, I got the nerve to ask my mother if Brittany could be allowed to come over for a sleepover. After consulting with my father she agreed, provided that her mother would come over to drop her off so that she could meet her. Floating on air, I rushed to my bedroom and got on the phone to her (a bedroom phone was one of the privileges I had won for being a good student). As I broke the news, I could picture her smile: “That’s a great idea Jen! I’ll go talk about it with my parents and I’ll get back to you real quick!” Five minutes later, a bubbling Brittany told me that yes, her parents had consented and that she could come over any day I wanted. We settled on a Saturday night so as to have all the day to ourselves.

The big day came and true enough, Brittany arrived with her mom right on time. Rushing down the stairs from my room to greet them, I was beaten to the point by my mother who was there first. There stood Brittany, wearing a pair of jeans and a simple pink tee on top, radiating warmth and happiness with her smile. Standing beside her was her mom who was like an older copy of her.

“Diane? Is that you?”


As we stood there dumbstruck our mothers hugged and embraced.

“Wait? You guys actually know each other?”

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