Chapter 9: From The Frying Pan Into The Fire

I never, ever, could have imagined, that men could be such huge problems.

Before, I never gave them much thought.

During my cross-dressing time, I went out with Jen and Sandy. Most often it was to lesbian localities. When we did go out elsewhere, I didn't seem to notice that extreme amount more attention from men.

Once I started going out alone, it was a completely different story.

The thing is, even if you are a lesbian and not interested sexually in men, they cannot be excluded from your life. Men themselves, do not allow this to happen. It's a part of their whole social/dating/sexual outlook on life. They, from nature, are the aggressors, the hunters.

You can't stay home all the time. You can't avoid them. You have to deal with them, especially if you're single.

During my recovery time, I had to stay down. I didn't feel like doing much, anyway. Once everything was healed. I had a severe case of cabin fever. I just needed to get out amongst people!

How people reacted towards me was also for me at that time a major ego boost... just what I needed.

Maybe, that's what got me in trouble.

As a male, other then with Andrea, I had only dated a few times. My experiences were even in that aspect, limited at best and all in the wrong direct.

I was so naive. The learning curve, that natural born women have concerning men is... longer and more extensive, has more volume.

Mine was like null and void. I did not have the depth of knowledge, to know truly, be aware of, the effect I had on men. What to do, or what not to do. How my body language would be evaluated.

What made it worse, was that Jen and Sandy, who could have helped me along, were gone.

I did have Dr. Johnston, and she had pointed out that this would be an issue. What I don't know is if we, or just I, had underestimated how great of an issue it would be, or if she wasn't completely upfront with me, about what life changes I was going to undergo. That in fact, I have to learn, one-step-at-a-time, as events unfolded.

My healing process had pretty well been done and gone, when I started to seriously get into clothing fetishes. I seemed to weekly go from one fetish to another. One week it would be shoes. (Do you know how much a pair of Jimmy Choo or Prada's cost?) Another week would be panties. (I just love string bikinis.) The week after that... skirts... then dresses... then bras... then...

Now I have almost my whole guest bedroom closet stacked full of shoes and clothes, not to speak of my bedroom closet! I had to have custom made closets built, in both bedrooms. Janice would be totally jealous.

Anyway...

I was out shopping, and saw this absolutely fabulous, fiery red, salsa halter-dress, with deep cleavage, an extremely low back (and I mean extremely low), and a high-low skirt bottom. It was hot... hot... hot, and I love anything Latin!

The saleswoman and I had been gabbing, while I had been shopping, for at least a good hour, when I saw that dress. It was a, "Oh my God, I've got to have," moment. Wearing it was almost orgasmic.

She said, "A dress like this demands to be worn dancing", and she started to tell me about this place her husband and her go dancing. I was dying of jealousy. We ended up making a date that Saturday, for me to go with them.

That night I felt so naughty. You can't wear a bra with that dress, so everything else I had on, was a tiny black lace string-bikini panty, a pair of black leather three-inch heel Jimmy Choo's (with corset like lacing), and a tight black satin half-inch wide band collar, that has a diamond brochette, in the middle.

No, nothing sexual happened that night, other then that it was my first straight night out, in I-don't-know-how-long. Plus, I did get a few kisses on the cheek and two on the lips... and... while dancing, a lot of (well, you know whats) rubbed against my tummy.

The kisses and boner rubs didn't bother me like I thought they would. It all felt natural. I guess I was just so much into dancing, with so many good dancing partners, that I didn't give it a thought.

It was a good transitional experience. Even though I was aware that the men I danced with had other intentions then just dancing, I had not felt pressured in any way. I was asked on 3 dates, and asked if I wanted to get some fresh air at least a good dozen (or more) times.

I declined all, but twice, of going out on a patio, for fresh air. Neither gentleman got touchy, even though both did use the moment, to try and get my telephone number.

What did happen was that I became addicted to going out dancing. I wanted more... and more.

Late that night, after returning home, while sitting on my terrace, I did have a long heart-to-heart talk with my soul, my emotions (guilt being one of them), a full moon and the ocean waves. We all came to the conclusion that there was nothing wrong in my behavior. Just so long as I didn't step over any boundaries, everything was okay. If a man kisses me, then that doesn't make me gay. Anyway, they kissed me, not me them.

Dr. Johnston and I did have then a new topic of discussion. Her major remark was, "Enjoy, but you are still psychologically, at a too early of a development. So, just remember to keep your legs together. That's all I ask."

Now that was shocking! "What is she thinking? What was she telling me? No way! I am not going to go there! I am totally, and unquestionably, heterosexual! That is not going to happen!"

Friday and Saturday nights, I started going out dancing then. If I could find another girl to go with me, then that was good. If I didn't, then I stayed closer to home, and out of clubs I didn't know so well.

Later on, I got in with a really nice group of people, so Wednesdays were added. Some of these people were even sport or competition dancers.

I was though pushing my boundaries, which I had set, after that first night out. I can't exactly say when it began. Only, when I noticed, that I had gone, over my said limits.

I had, by that time, have quite a few numbers, belonging to men, on my cellphone.

It wasn't unusual to kiss a good friend, a little more, or a little more often, than just good night.

I guess I was becoming a bit of a tease, maybe a little more, than just a bit of a tease. For me, it was a power thing. It was a feel good thing, a popularity thing. Someone desired me. That was new to me, and it was like a drug addiction. I dressed to tease. I danced to tease, and I flirted to tease.

I didn't think much of it. I would kiss a single guy, just the same as I would a husband of one of my friends. They all knew it. They all did it. No one thought anything of it. No one hid it from anyone. I even kissed a few of the women, wives and singles. No biggie... no problem.

The night I realized I had stepped over the line... actually started the night before.

Scott and I had been dirty dancing since Friday night, and it was now late Saturday night. We weren't doing any real necking, or petting. It was only getting a little bit out of hand, mostly just on the dance floor.

We were also doing four out of five dances with each other. He was a single guy, and I was a single girl, so what? If anyone was taking notice, that things went a bit further than normal, that we were dancing more with each other than with the others, it was noticed more in a positive tense. More than one of the married women in our group, pulled me aside, to tell me how nice a guy, they thought he was.

He had long wanted to test drive my Mustang. It's a Shelby GT500. So a real guy thing. So while we were out for fresh air, I handed him the keys. He drove, and I sat in the passenger seat.

When we got back to the parking lot, he had to park the car a little ways away. We sat there talking for a while.

One thing led to another, and I was wondering, how I was going to get out of, the mess I was in, and cursing that I had worn a dress, where I could not wear a bra. Things were getting out of hand quickly, and I had no idea, how I could politely put a stop to it. (How do you?)

It came even worse when he tried to slide his fingers underneath the crotch of my panties. I grabbed his hand and whispered, "Wrong time." (At least I was thinking that fast.) That did stop him in that direction. But, by that time, the top of my dress was pretty well off.

I'm not going to say that I was not aroused. That would not be truthful. My mind was saying one thing, and my body another, and my body was talking louder, and faster than my mind.

I had had my arms around his neck when he pulled away from me for a moment. He took my hands and kissed them. Then he seemed to just lay them in his lap and raised his hands back to my face, and returned kissing me. I felt something that wasn't trouser cloth, and pulled back. "This is going way too far. What am I going to do now?" was all I could think. He took one of my hands and wrapped it around his cock, "Please" he implored, "Just this, nothing more, please."

At that moment, it didn't seem too wrong, or unusual. It was a good way to stop things from going further, and get us back into the club.

Let's just say, I had another deep heart-to-heart talk with the moon and the ocean waves when I got home that night.

Dr. Johnston also had some crisis management to do. Her advice was, just to do, or not do, what I felt I liked doing, or not. "But, remember to keep you legs together girl, you're not ready."

I just kept my thoughts to myself. "Like, no way doctor! That is not going to happen!" I wasn't going to argue with her. I knew what I was doing, and what I wanted.

It was though, another Pandorian box. Once opened, the results that it had, could not be revoked. The line that I had once drawn in the sand, I kept having to redraw, as I retreated, from my once so solid stance.

It was a power emotion that kept me going.

It was also a strong emotional desire to conform and belong. Even though, or maybe because, these people were all straights and considered me to be nothing other than a naturally born female, I, emotionally felt, I needed to continue. I was accepted, and that was just one of the costs, of being accepted. Had I not already worked hard to be finally accepted, for what I am? Why back out now?

The two of us never went to a boyfriend and girlfriend stage. Maybe, he wanted to, but that was just too weird for me to accept. That was too gay. I would accept sexual involvement, but not emotional. I let him know, that I did like him, but I was going to stay single, and open to the field.

It did get to the point of where I could no longer continually use the, "Wrong time" excuse with men. I refused to go all-the-way, but did allow more to happen. I was dry down there though. That could make for problems. I, of course, didn't want to have to explain anything, neither about any operations, or anything else. I started using just enough pheromones and lubricant to seem naturally wet. It also made it a lot easier on me, if it did go so far. There's nothing worse than having someone try to push his or her fingers into you, when you're dry. It hurts.

Yes, that's correct, his or her fingers. The she, was a part of a married couple. I was skeptical about what she intended, her being married, until she told me that her husband knew, or would be told, and not only didn't mind, he approved.

I had to put a stop to it, when she suggested a ménage de trio. That was a hard one to say no to. I told her, "Maybe, at some later date." She didn't push it; we're still friends, and still cuddle and kiss.

Justin came into the group about that time.

He stands 6' 2", and weights around 180lbs... of pure sensual brawny muscle. Staying in top form is one of his passions.

He is divorced. His wife was too interested in her occupation. She left him for higher jobs, in bigger cities.

He has a son, and a daughter. They live with his mother. Justin would like that they live with him. But, him being single, and they are three and five, they are too young to be alone. He does visit the children as much, as possible.

Justin was special though... well for me. I don't know exactly what his appeal was or is. We just seemed to understand each other so well. Often, we intuitively knew what the other was thinking, or feeling. Our talks were always very interesting, and he is a good dancer and conversationalist.

He was the first man I ever went on a date with. The group seemed to recognize the two of us as a couple. Only our size differences got a few puns directed at us. He was the tallest, and I was the smallest of our group.

He took me to meet his parents and his children. We took the children to Disneyland, to parks and had picnics at the beach. The children lived with me, while his parents once went on vacation. We all spent Christmas and Easter together. I was invited to the children's birthday parties. The times with him and his children were beautiful, and...

I use to tease him saying, "If I ever want to get serious with a man, you'll be the first man I call." I had told him that I was a lesbian, and could not seriously contemplate having a male life-partner.

His answer was always the same, "You've got my home, business and cell numbers. If you still can't reach me, just call mom or dad."

One very hot summers evening after dancing, we didn't seem to want to have things end. He had picked me up. We had gone to dinner, and then to the club, to be with the rest of the group.

Afterwards, the two of us got the idea of going down to the beach, and wading in the cooler waters. It was well after midnight, and the beach was secluded, a little off of the beaten track.

Justin had taken a blanket with him. So after wading in the water, we lay down to talk and cuddle. Things took their course. We had been there, before. We were not treading on new territory. I had even gone down on him, to completion, before. (Like I said, I had continually been redrawing new lines in the sand.)

Things seemed to be taking a little different twist though. Usually after a longer period of petting and necking he needed release. He didn't seem to want this, and he wouldn't give me mine either. My panties had long since been discarded, and I had already attempted to go down on him once. He had pulled me back up.

He was on top of me. We looked into each other's eyes. He's eyes were questioning. I smiled. I held his face in my hands and pulled him back down to kiss me. Then I felt him enter, penetrate me.

As excited as I was, I was still amazed. I couldn't remember ever having felt that way before. It was so encompassing, so demanding, knowing, feeling, him inside of me. Sex had never been that way, so strong, so over powering. It took my breath away, that first moment of penetration, I was open-mouthed gasping, and I didn't seem to be able to get my breath back until it was over. I wrapped my legs around him, wanting to pull him into me as far, and as much, as I could. I don't know if I came once, continually, or multiple times. I have no idea how long he lasted.