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Please read chapters 1-6 before beginning this chapter. While this chapter can be read as a stand alone story it is entirely dependent on the events of the earlier chapters. This is a bit of a transitional chapter and may not have the “action” that earlier and subsequent chapters do. A writer thrives on your feedback. Please take a moment to vote and leave a comment if you feel so inclined. I hope you enjoy my scribbling.
My two hour drive home from the camp was the first real time I had had for in depth introspection and reflection. I used it well; although I’m not sure it had the results I hoped for. I suppose I was left with as many questions as answers. I suppose the key question was “What the hell does all this mean?” I obviously needed to do some serious work on my self-image. I had always thought of myself as a fairly liberated and uninhibited lover. However, in the context of the events of the previous couple of days that image was shattered. Had I enjoyed myself? Absolutely, but I was still left with the nagging question of whether this previously untapped explosion of sexuality was really me, or just some sort of one-time aberration. The analytical side of my personality referred to it as a “statistical anomaly.” On the other hand, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a simpler answer. Had I just tapped into a previously buried part of my sexuality? They say that we are, to some degree, the product of our environment. Had the environment that Jim and Sharon exposed me to uncovered a part of me that had been lying dormant due to more mundane nature of my sex life?
I had always thought I had a healthy libido. I liked sex as much as most single women I supposed. Admittedly, my sex life was somewhat lacking, but I had always attributed that to the less then inspiring skills of my lovers. I was left wondering if my perception of their lack of skills had more to do with my own inhibitions then their talents in bed.
I did make one significant break through in this self analysis. When my mind turned to the memories of the time and pleasure I shared with Sharon and the other women at the party, it was pretty clear that I was in fact a full blown bisexual. I could not kid myself about that any longer, at least not with any degree of honesty. What I had shared with them, both emotionally and physically, left no doubt in my mind. My curiosity about women was what led me into this in the first place, wasn’t it? My suspicions were definitely confirmed. What was not shocking was the sexual attraction I had enjoyed. That had been a key part of my fantasy life for a long time.
What really surprised me was the emotional link I felt towards Sharon. My attraction to her was clearly more then just sexual. Playing with the other women at the party had been fun, but I felt something much deeper with Sharon. I had sought out a playmate, a kindred spirit, but what I felt developing was something much more complicated and involved. Sure I cared for Jim too, but that was not as hard for me to accept. My feelings towards him fit more tidily in my mostly heterosexual view of the world. The fact that he was married to another woman, on the other hand, was perhaps a bit more difficult to digest.
My thoughts of Jim brought me back to an even bigger question. How would I, a single woman, fit into their life together, and they into my own? The concept of polyamory was something foreign to me. I was barely familiar with the term, something I recall reading as some minor reference to in a long ago college human sexuality course. As I turned into my apartment complex I decided that this was a concept that perhaps required a bit of research and I made a note to myself to search the internet for more information on this topic that had previously been so foreign to me.
As I unloaded my overnight bag I saw the bag of goodies that Sharon had sent home with me. Flashbacks hit me like a bolt of lightning as I saw it. I had maintained a level of mild arousal on my way home as my brain filled with a mixture of sexual imagery and lifestyle questions that resulted from those images. That arousal blossomed when I saw the bag. What was happening to me? How could I be this turned on after everything I had experienced over the weekend? Wasn’t there some limit to what my body and libido needed? It was if the more sex I got, the more I needed. Could I be turning into some sort of sex addict? I was familiar with the concept of sex addiction, but I never really took it seriously and had always considered it as some sort of weird psychological manifestation. I certainly didn’t feel weird. Was I a bit confused? Yes. Weird? No. Actually what I felt deep down, when I was truly honest with myself, was more like empowerment and enlightenment.
I hurried into my apartment and was soon out of clothes and in my bed. My trusty vibrator was in my hand and I had a quick and satisfying orgasm while images of writhing bodies, male and female, filled my head. My hunger was satiated, at least temporarily, and I sank into a heavy sleep.
I wish I could say that my demons and issues were put to rest, but they casino siteleri weren’t. As my week went on I tried to bury myself in my work to keep my mind involved in the every day details of my professional life. However, my thoughts continued to stray back to the questions that bedeviled me. My appetite for sex did not wane in the least. Masturbation, which had previously been a couple of times a week release for me, became a major part of my life. A quick masturbation session in the shower or at bedtime turned into major sessions of self love. By the end of the day my eyes were constantly on the clock, waiting until that magic time when I could flee my office for the confines of my home and indulge my passions.
I noticed other changes in my outlook on life as well. I was much more aware of the people around me. I found myself admiring both men and women I encountered in the office, in a restaurant at lunch, or even just on the street. I quickly developed little mini-fantasies about these people. Were they good lovers, inventive, exploratory, long lasting, or kinky? What did they look like naked? Did she shave her pussy? Did he have a big cock? Is she into women or would she like to be? Does she like it in the ass?
While I tried to maintain the cool, calm professional demeanor on the outside that most of my co-workers had come to associate with me, I was a sexual turmoil on the inside. My mind was like a crack in a dam. Once the crack formed, the flood soon followed. This turmoil was offset to some degree by the intensity with which I addressed my work. Only by submerging myself in my work was I able to hold the sexual demons at bay.
It wasn’t like these changes were unnoticed. My boss made several complimentary remarks about the work that I was turning out, not only about the quality but the quantity as well. I was like a woman possessed, she stated. Lisa, my only real friend at work, made several comments about how I seemed to “glow,” as she put it. She made several inquiries about whether I had a new boyfriend while we shared a quick salad at lunch. I didn’t think she could handle the truth, so I did my best to fend off her questions. I was just barely able to handle the truth myself. I couldn’t help thinking to myself, “If you only knew Lisa, if you only knew.”
Other changes had crept into my life as well. My work attire was usually shed almost immediately upon entering my apartment. I quickly grew more comfortable being in just my skin. My apartment’s thermostat was adjusted accordingly to compensate for this new facet of my life. The long tee shirts, sweats, and pajamas that had previously been my normal lounge wear was left buried in a dresser drawer.
I also found myself digging into my lingerie drawer for the sexier lingerie that I normally reserved for a “hot date.” These items became part of my day to day lingerie instead of just special occasions. It was if they allowed me to stay in touch with my sexual and sensual self even while covered in my more practical work wardrobe. My plain Jane, “practical,” bras and panties soon took their place at the bottom of the drawer. Cotton and nylon were replaced by lace, silk, and satin. My full cut bras and panties were replaced with demicups and thongs. Pantyhose were replaced with thigh highs and garter belts. I suppose my outer wear changed as well, if to a lesser degree. I began to dress a little more attractively. The skirts to my usual business suits became shorter, the slacks a little tighter, and cotton blouses gave way to silk. I also gravitated towards higher heeled shoes as my normal emphasis on comfort gave way to style and appearance. I found myself developing a new found appreciation for just how good my legs looked in heels and deciding that adding a few more pairs to my collection was called for after my next paycheck. These changes were noticed at work of course, especially by my friend Lisa. I was able to dismiss them as a simple revamping of my “style.”
As I alluded to earlier, my masturbatory patterns were changing and developing as well. I began to set my alarm clock 30 minutes earlier to allow myself time for more then just a “quick cum,” as I had thought of it, in the shower. My day typically began with a long, drawn out session in which I brought myself to the edge repeatedly and allowed my body to build to a really wonderful orgasm. Long gone were the days in which my morning sessions were just a “release.” If nothing else, I had learned the advantages of orgasmic quality over expedience. I was quickly becoming a connoisseur of fine orgasms just like some people savored fine wine, cognac or cigars.
I found that these pre-dawn adventures gave me a better out look on life during the day. I was more relaxed and confident at the office, even if my mind was still filled with occasional flashes of fantasy and sexual imagery. I started to think of these episodes as my “breaks.” Just as some people needed occasional cigarette or coffee breaks, I needed “fantasy breaks.” More then once they were interrupted by an un-knowing co-worker who walked into my office with my feet kicked up and a smile on my face. canlı casino I was able to dismiss these, when asked, as just a bit of daydreaming about an upcoming vacation. I was careful that my suit coat or blazer covered my turgid nipples and I certainly hoped that the smell of my wet pussy was not noticeable. On more then one occasion I was forced into using panty liners that I had begun to carry with me for this purpose. I resisted the urge to slink off to the ladies restroom for quick masturbation breaks although I did feel the urge. I just stored up the passion and saved it for when I got home.
My night time masturbatory sessions became much more elaborate and drawn out. This was the time devoted to fully exploring my new found sexuality. Sharon’s gifts were put to good use, especially after I had a couple of days to recover from the weekend, particularly my well used ass and nipples.
I was very familiar with the old idea that to be a good lover you have to know how to make love to yourself first. I had read more then one article in magazines like Cosmo on this topic. I guess I had never truly appreciated that concept. The recent events in my life made these ideas crystalline clear in my consciousness. My appetite for sex, and especially for exploratory sex, was voracious. When I wasn’t actually doing it, I was thinking about it and planning the next session. I went so far as to make a trip to the drug store to lie in supplies for these sessions. I began to devote time to creating a scene for my night time self love sessions. I bought bubble bath so that I can enjoy a long relaxing soak in preparation. Candles, wine, and a good supply of disposable enemas was also included. I also stocked up on lube because I realized the small bottle that Sharon had provided would not last long at the rate I was going. I even broke out my satin sheets that I usually saved for when I was expecting to bring home a potential lover. I was willing to take the time and spend the money to create the sort of atmosphere that I felt was conducive to my future explorations.
My exploration was rather expansive. My experience with Jim and Sharon and at the party had opened up a lot of possibilities to me that I was anxious to explore, both physically as well as psychologically. My night time forays into the world of self induced pleasure were accompanied by some pretty wild fantasies. It seemed that whatever inhibitions I had had were gone and my mind was free to consider options I had never even imagined before. These fantasies were interspersed with a lot of very hot memories as well. Sometimes it was hard to tell where the memories stopped and the fantasies began. One thing that I noticed about my fantasies, as opposed to those from before, was they were no longer fanciful. My fantasies before had never been about things that I would necessarily consider doing in real life. They were more of the “what if” variety. Now I found my thoughts were devoted to creating scenarios for future, real world exploration.
I made some wonderful discoveries about my sexual likes and interests. Yes, I did truly enjoy my new found anal eroticism. My most explosive orgasms usually involved some sort of anal play, whether it is with my fingers, the plug or beads that Sharon gave me, or one of my other toys. I became fastidious in keeping my rear passage clean for anal exploration and I even invested in an enema bag for most extensive “cleaning.” I even found that giving myself an enema could be an enjoyable experience, rather then just a “chore.”
One of my most memorable orgasms came from using the anal beads which I found out were deliciously fun. Pulling them out when my orgasm peaked led to a wonderful climax. This revelation led to a quick trip to my computer to order a couple more sets of beads in various sizes from an online toy site so that I could explore this variation more completely.
I also found that I love the full feeling of the plug, even though it lacked the thrusting power of Jim’s cock. I found that wearing it for extended periods around my apartment kept my arousal level elevated, but without creating an overwhelming need for immediate release. It was a sort of self induced tease that I learned to appreciate. It also had a secondary benefit. I discovered that keeping it in place was not always easy and it provides a good source of exercise for my sphincter and glutes as I wore it around the apartment. I also discovered something else as a result of using it that led to very hot fantasies and a resolve to explore them more fully. One night I had been wearing the plug for a couple of hours and after moving to the bedroom I had the idea of fucking myself with a favorite dildo. Having both my ass and cunt filled at the same time resulted in a series of earth shattering orgasms. It was definitely in the “fireworks” category.
I also found out that my experiences with erotic pain had not been a fluke. I had always liked my breasts treated a little roughly but I, nor my lovers, had ever taken it to the extreme that I had gone to over the weekend. I tried out the nipple clamps and while I did enjoy them, kaçak casino I found out that timing was the key. If I wasn’t sufficiently aroused, they were just plain painful and that the pain numbed after I had worn them for a while. I learned to adjust them and as my arousal level increased, so did the pressure that I applied. Perhaps their best use, I found, was when I pulled them off as I came. The blood rushed back into my nips and the sensation always added to my explosion. I also found that holding the connecting chain in my mouth and tugging on my nipples while my hands were otherwise occupied was an interesting experience.
My experiments with erotic pain were not limited to the clamps. I dug out some clothes pins I sometimes used for hanging up hand washed items and tried using them on other parts of my body. My breasts, belly, and labia were all subjected to their bite. One of my most intense experiences came when I tried using them one on my clit when I was near my peak. I actually passed out from that. The intense pain and pleasure really did a number on me. The pain, without accompanying pleasure, when I awoke, was not very pleasant however, and I decided this may not be something I would try on a regular basis. At least not when I was alone.
I even tried a little self-administered spanking. I experimented with my hand, an antique hair brush, a plastic ruler, and even a kitchen spatula. While I enjoyed the warm glow on my ass, I found that it lost something without the presence of a lover to deliver the swats. Perhaps I needed a domineering lover to trigger the sort of deep seated feelings that my sub side needed to fully enjoy this sort of activity. I did find that spanking my pussy as part of my frequent masturbation sessions was interesting and very arousing and it became a regular part of my masturbatory repertoire.
All of the attention to the pleasure that my body was capable of providing led to another positive by-product. I started going back to the gym and worked out with a vengeance. I was determined to get myself in the best possible condition I could. If nothing else, I thought, it would help my stamina. My time in the gym as well as my sexual workouts at home resulted in better quality sleep then I had enjoyed in a long time. By the time I was in bed, to sleep, not play, I slept well and awoke rested and full of energy.
While my body was well exercised, sexually and otherwise, my mind was also kept busy. I tried to devote at least an hour in the evenings to explore online. The world was my oyster and my interests seemed to be far ranging. A rapidly growing list of bookmarks filled my browser. For the most part I sought out informative, resource oriented sites rather then the more prevalent porn varieties. However, I will admit to spending more then a little time surfing some porn sites, usually with one hand busy in my crotch.
If you looked at my bookmarks, you would find sites devoted to Naturism, swinging, polyamory, bisexuality, and even BDSM. I had decided that if I was going to accept my new sexuality and lifestyle, I was at least going to try to understand the ground rules. I couldn’t really define what my lifestyle was at that point, but I was willing to explore the possibilities. Most of all I was surprised to find out there were so many people out there like me. That is, people with similar desires, needs, interests, and dare I say kinks? I was particularly interested in reading material written by female writers that shared the same feeling that I did. It gave me a warm feeling to know that I was not alone. Deep within me, I knew that I was never truly alone. If nothing else, Sharon and Amy had taught me that. Still, it was good to know that I was not as unique in my feelings as I had previously thought.
I also dove into a couple of erotic story sites. I was familiar with a few and had availed myself of them in the past for “jill off” material. Now though, I saw them a little differently. Again, I was drawn to stories by female authors whose experiences, or at least their fantasies, mirrored my own. I did find a lot of stories that did nothing for me, or even revolted me to some degree. I quickly learned how to scan through a story to see if it was something I would find interesting before investing the time needed to read it. Mostly though, I found them a good source of fantasy material. They were fresh material that helped me open my horizons to other possibilities for further sexual exploration.
I quickly found that I was drawn to a couple of categories of stories. Group sex, especially stories about swinging and 3-somes, bisexual and lesbian, and BDSM stories seemed to grab my interest more often then not. Not that I was limited to those types of stories alone. I was looking for options and I forced myself to explore outside of my favorites. Sometimes this resulted in more questions then answers, especially if it was a story that was pretty “out there,” and I found myself being aroused by it. Some of the BDSM stories were like that. While I could never see myself living as a 24/7 slave, I did find myself being occasionally aroused by this type of story. Some of the fetish oriented stories resulted in a similar response. One well written bisexual story in which one of the main characters was lactating led to some very warm memories of Terri, who I had met at Mike and Amy’s party.
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