I've always liked guys. Don't get me wrong. I am most certainly not a lesbian, at least not a strict lesbian. But recent events have made me realize that, at the very least, I'm strongly bisexual. I've hidden my attraction for women for a long time, keeping these feelings under tight lock and key. Only once did I try to tell my husband about them but I told my story badly and I don't think he really believed what I was saying. I never mentioned them again until that fateful night Sharon stopped by and wanted to get drunk with me. Sharon left that night with more than a skinful of booze.

Sharon. How I'd admired her body for so long, ever since the day I'd first laid eyes on her our first week in the new house. She never knew how many times I peered out the miniblinds of our living room window, which overlooked their backyard, watching her tan herself on a towel on their deck, wearing nothing but her bikini. She never knew how I stared at her beautiful skin basking in the sun and dreamed of running my tongue over it. She never knew how I would put my fingers inside my shorts on these occasions and rub my pussy while I stared at her, bringing myself to a sharp, powerful orgasm. She never knew how many times, while my husband was skillfully eating my pussy, I fantasized it was her tongue, her lips caressing my vagina and sucking my clit. I never dreamed that one day I would get to fulfill this fantasy. Neither Sharon, nor my husband, will probably ever know what it is that attracts me to her so strongly. Sharon looks like an older version of Cindy Casset, the first girl I ever made love to, the only girl I'd ever made love to before Sharon herself.

Cindy wasn't the first girl I'd been attracted to, of course. I knew I had feelings for my fellow females from about the age of thirteen or so. I used to steal my father's Playboys and sneak them into my room at night where I would masturbate to the images of the models. I would dream of kissing them, caressing them, and later, eating them. I would also just as regularly masturbate to the images of rock stars and actors. David Lee Roth and Tom Selleck were two of my favorites. I never considered myself abnormal because of my equally horny feelings towards males, but I did always feel a sense of guilt after I'd rubbed off while thinking about a female. As I got older I tried more and more to put my homosexual feelings behind me, to tell myself it was wrong. But when I saw another girl going to the bathroom in front of me or undressing in front of me, it almost never failed to excite me. I would almost always find myself thinking about what I'd seen the next time my hand crept between my legs in the privacy of my room at night.

Outwardly, I never showed any signs of what was going on inside me. As I got older I began experimenting with heterosexual contact, as all girls do. By the age of fifteen, Bobby Salmon had felt my tits under my shirt. It was nice, though kind of rough and fumbling. By sixteen Chris Walker had gotten his fingers under my skirt one night on a date and finger banged me. It felt okay but he didn't really know what he was doing and I never came close to orgasm. I jacked him off to orgasm afterward and he really seemed to enjoy that, as did I. The sensation of his semen spurting all over my hand coupled with the blissful, almost exalted look on his face was incredible, and it gave me such a feeling of power. Several weeks later Chris took my virginity in the back of his father's Buick at the local lover's lane. It hurt like hell and only lasted about a minute. It was also a spontaneous act, done without protection of any sort and I sweated out the next three weeks until my period, worrying and wondering how I was going to tell my parents I was pregnant.

After that scare I let no more cocks into my vagina for a while. I dated now and then and let boys feel me up. I learned to suck their cocks and give excellent handjobs. I even let one of them eat my pussy (a worse pussy eating I've never encountered), but I was taking no chances on pregnancy. I would not have actual intercourse again until shortly after my high school graduation, when I though I was in love for the first time and when I made sure he was wearing a rubber.

When I was seventeen and a junior in high school, I began hanging out with Cindy. She was a sophomore and very shy and I'd been friends with her for more than a month before my mind informed me the reason I'd initiated the friendship had been due to a powerful attraction to her. She was petite and beautiful but so shy that the boys paid her scant attention. Her nose was continually in a book of some sort, her hair usually in disarray, her makeup nonexistent. I took her under my wing and taught her the finer points of fashion and cosmetology. I remember trying on clothes with her in my room and keeping half an eye on her alluring body as she stripped down to panties to try on the next outfit. I remember my most powerful orgasms brought by my hand were with her body in my mind.

The day I made love to her is locked forever in my mind. I dragged her to a party at an abandoned river dock. The Friday night parties there were legendary among our high school alumni and several others. There was usually a keg there where, for three dollars, you could drink as much as you wished. There was also always some group of guys willing to share their pot with you. That night we did both, drinking eight or ten large glasses of beer and smoking several joints with some guy friends of mine. They tried to convince us both to give up a little pussy for them but we politely declined.

We left the party about 10:30 that night, driving toward my house in my battered six-year old Toyota Corolla. I most definitely should not have been driving but when you're a teenager such things simply don't carry the same weight as they do when you're an adult. Fate was kind to us, however, and we arrived safely at my house shortly before eleven, both of us weaving and giggling our way into the house.

Now I should mention that my parents and my older brother were not at home that night. My older brother was away at college. My parents were in Los Angeles for an annual benefit dinner at my Dad's company, something they went to every year. This was only the second year they'd trusted me enough to remain home alone for the three days they were gone instead of shipping me to my grandmother's. I was ripe with freedom and hornier than I ever remembered being in my life. As alcohol tends to do, my better judgment was out the window. As marijuana tends to do, my libido was in overdrive. I'd spent the entire night looking furtively at Cindy's body and wondering if there was any way she would allow me to access it. I wanted her so badly it was almost painful.

Cindy, who was inexperienced in the manners of drunkenness, tripped and fell to her face. I picked her up and made a big show of brushing off her clothes, feeling my hands glide over the swell of her small tits, feeling my palm stroking the bare flesh of her pretty legs. She burped drunkenly and then thanked me, not noticing the flush of excitement that the contact with her body had given me, not knowing how I'd memorized the sensation of my hand touching her springy, cotton covered tits. How I'd restrained myself from squeezing them right then, I'll never know.

We sat and watched television for a few minutes, each of us sipping out of a can of my daddy's beer I'd liberated from the refrigerator. Our drunkenness increased and I felt my pussy actually dripping moisture as I stole glances at my friend and envisioned rubbing my naked body against hers. How could I get her clothes off her? Thoughts of how she might react if I hit on her stayed in the back of my mind while the front was occupied only with stripping and getting my hands on her. Finally, an idea occurred to me.

"Cindy," I said, "let's go get in the hot tub and soak for a while. It feels great on nights like this." My father had purchased the hot tub about two years before and I was speaking the truth when I told her it felt great on warm Seattle summer nights.

"I can't," she said, giggling a little. "I don't have my suit with me. You should've told me earlier and I would have brought it."

I scoffed at her. "C'mon Cind, we can just strip down and get in. No one else is home and the backyard is private."

"You mean... get naked?" she asked, eyes wide.

"Why not?" I returned, not mentioning the fact I had at least three bathing suits up in my room that would fit her. "I've seen you naked before. It's just us girls." I winked. "Besides, it feels good to be in there naked. It's sensual."

She laughed tipsily, standing up. "What good does it do to feel sensual when there's just us two here?"

What good indeed, I didn't say. She did, however, seem to like the idea. This gave me hope and made me wetter. I stood and headed for the sliding glass doors that marked the entrance to the backyard and the redwood deck that contained the hot tub. She followed me.

I was out of my clothes in less than a minute. My shorts, socks, shoes, shirt, and bra became an unruly pile next to the door. I stood naked before her, hoping I didn't have actual juices running down my legs. I was cognizant of the odor of my excitement rising into the air around me and of the rock hard state of my nipples. I turned to her. She was still standing there, having done nothing more than remove her shoes and socks. Her eyes showed hesitation.

"Are you sure no one can see in your back yard?" she asked timidly.

"Positive," I assured her, feeling giddy as I thought about watching her disrobe. "We have a seven foot fence covered with ivy and privacy bushes lining the whole thing. There is absolutely no line of sight from anywhere into the backyard." I smiled. "C'mon. I go out there naked all the time. Whenever it's nice and my parents aren't home. It's safe."

"Well..." She hesitated a moment more. "Okay. If you're sure it's safe."

"It is."

With that she began to disrobe. She pulled her T-shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor. Her shorts came next, revealing a pair of sparkling white, conservative panties. A quick flash of her arms and the bra was on the floor, baring her tiny titties. Her nipples, I noticed, were standing out as were mine. I longed to put my mouth on them and suck them until she screamed. At last she slid the panties down her legs, baring her sparse growth of black pubic hair and just the hint of the velvet lips between them. I tried not to stare at her, succeeding for the most part. I had a lot of practice pretending I wasn't watching a naked female.

"Let's do it," I said, stepping through the doorway, and, of course, meaning more than one thing with my words.

We walked naked out onto the redwood deck, feeling the humid summer air on our flesh. I lifted up the cover on the hot tub and pushed it back, letting a cloud of steam out into the air. While Cindy ran her hand through the hot water I walked over to the control panel and flipped the switches for the lights and the jets. The water lit up with white light and began roiling and bubbling.

I walked back over to the tub, catching a good view of Cindy's beautiful ass. I slapped her lightly there as I climbed up the steps, relishing the feel of those firm cheeks beneath my hand. "Hop in," I told her, hauling myself to the edge and inserting my legs.

The water was hot, stinging, but not as hot as I was as I watched the object of my desire drag herself up and put her own legs in. She sat across from me, unwittingly allowing me a view of her vagina as she got her skin used to the temperature. It was a beautiful pussy because it was real. It was much better than those I'd seen in daddy's Playboys.

I eased myself down into the water, feeling its heat caress me and allowing my eyes to sink to the level of the object I wanted to kiss with all of my heart. I think Cindy caught me staring at her slit because she immediately sank down into the water too, a strange, uncertain expression on her face. When we were both used to the water I slid around the circular bench until I was next to her. I felt the edge of my naked thigh contact her smooth skin and I resisted an urge to drop my hands between my legs and start rubbing myself.

She looked at me curiously as I slid around to her, no doubt wondering why I'd done that. "This is the best view this time of year," I told her, peering at the stars in the sky. "Look there, that's Jupiter and there's Saturn. Those two bright points."

"Oh," she nodded, a little uncomfortable. "I can see them."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, staring at the sky, she lost in thoughts of her own, and me enjoying the contact of my thigh against hers and hoping for more. Finally she told me what was on her mind.

"Laura," she said quietly. "That Doug Puma is kind of cute, don't you think?"

"Dougie?" I asked, knowing instantly whom she was referring to. "Sure he's cute. He's a football player."

"He was flirting with me a lot tonight," she told me.

I snorted. "I'd stay away from Dougie if I were you. He's only interested in getting you naked and fucking you."

"He is?" she asked, obviously not sure how to feel about that. That she was a virgin was something I knew and that she thought herself unworthy of most guys was something I'd intuited.

"Oh he'd fuck you all right," I told her. "You're pretty and have a nice body. He'd fuck you in a minute if you offered. But then you'd never hear from him again and everyone in school would know every detail of what you'd done."

"He would tell people?" She seemed shocked.

"Of course he would," I laughed. "Most guys will. They can't keep their friggin' mouths shut to save their lives. If it came down to keeping it a secret and getting all the pussy they wanted and telling their friends and having it cut off, most of them will take having it cut off. They can't help it. They just have to share their conquests. Guys are so flippin' stupid sometimes."

"Well, what do you do about that?" she asked. "How do you have sex with someone without anyone ever finding out about it?"

"With guys," I replied, "you can't. If you decide to sleep with a guy you have to do so with the knowledge that everyone will know by the next day." I shook my head. "Sad but true. When I did Chris Walker that time I was the talk of the school until the next time some poor girl decided to fuck someone. He was even telling people that I'd been a virgin and that I'd bled all over his Dad's car seats. He was telling people how tight I was and how he'd barely gotten it in. He didn't mention, however, how the entire thing could have taken place while I'd been holding my breath. If you do it too many times, your reputation is shot."

"Guys are such slime," she proclaimed. "Haven't you ever done it without everyone knowing?"

I shook my head. "It can't be done," I assured her. "And it's a pity. If guys would just learn not to talk about it, they'd get it all the time. Take me for instance. I'm so horny right now I'd fuck a table leg. If I knew one of those guys at the party would give me what I need and not blab about it the next day, I would've given it up. As it stands now, though, I didn't even consider it. My reputation couldn't take it."

"So what do you do?" she asked innocently. "I'm still a virgin and I want to have sex. Sometimes it's all I can think about. How do you take care of it without getting a reputation?"