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  • — Out of the Closet —
    Lesbian Female / 43

    I was 18, a freshman in college, I joined the campus newspaper to make friends and get to know my new college. I had been an editor on my high school newspaper and thought I might want to study journalism. I met a girl, she was a junior, a journalism student. Everything clicked, a perfect fit, she showed me a shortcut to the commons where we went to lunch, my very first day my hand slipped into hers as we walked to class after lunch, with a kiss on the cheek and see you later.

    It wasn't until several days later that she asked what that meant, me holding her hand. I held her hand whenever we walked together. To class in the morning, when we walked to lunch, if we were out running some sort of errand. I held her hand.

    She had this boyfriend of sorts. He was a graduate student in Journalism. Once I arrived on campus there was never another two person date with him. If he wanted to be with her, then he wanted to be with us. He was welcome to join us, he could drive us, he could pick us up. He could take us to eat, to the movies, or just run errands with us. He walked ahead, and we walked behind, holding hands. Whenever he was with us, we intertwined our fingers when we held hands much tighter.

    One evening we stayed in, we went to his apartment and ordered pizza and sat down to watch the game. During the game he grabbed me and started to fondle me, he lifted my top to see what I was made of, and less than a minute later he had sex with me on the couch. It was my first time, I had lost my virginity. That night she and I slept together. It was her wanting to be with me that night. That night we talked until very late about losing my virginity and what it meant. I wasn't sorry or hurt, it happened and it was bound to happen, and if it happened it happened with him, but still that night we talked until we fell asleep.

    The dynamic between the three of us changed. Him having sex with me was now an established pattern. It is not that we had group sex, it is just that sometimes the three of us were together and we helped out. He did ask for things from us, he wanted to 'see'. We accommodated him so that he could 'see'. But we never did anything alone, we held hands, we did things together, we slept together, but we did not do sex together. Except when he asked us to do something for him to 'see'. If he was watching us, we did things, and we did it with meaning. It wasn't fake.

    When he graduated he went on to work in Washington D.C., we stayed, she went on with her masters, and after she graduated she stayed with me until I graduated. When we moved to live with him it was pretty intense sex for several months.

    His father was operated on and he went to see him. It was the two of us alone. The sex between us was crazy, we lost our boundary and we had sex. Now it was just the two of us. We had never felt this way, but now we did. Now we had fun. Our lives after that week were never the same again. The end game was that we split off to set up our own lives, and he hovered around us, eventually finding a woman for himself.

    Since finishing up with college we have never lived more than a few minutes apart from him. He continues to this day to be the man in our lives. His wife has come to accept that we are his, just one step removed. That we are lesbians is pretty clear. It should have been clear from that first day when we met on campus, that day that we held hands. We know that without the glue of having him in our lives we would not have been able to cement ourselves together. Discovering that sex was also part of our lives, sex for our benefit, not for him to watch, was perhaps the biggest step. You have to want sex with your other person. Not have sex, want sex. The rest of the train follows.

    #39775 — Comments (0) — Mar 26, 2018 at 8:44 AM — That's Juicy! (5) Remove This.

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