By Molly Frances for ASN Lifestyle Magazine
“What is your fantasy? What’s the one you never tell me about?” Alan asked while I stroked the underside of his cock with my tongue.
“What do you mean?” I pulled back and looked up at him.
“Come on, I told you that I want to see you with another man. Do you have something big like that?”
My brain flashed immediately to our visit to Vibe, the local lifestyle club. It was our first visit; we’d entered nervous and unsure. We met Todd and Sara and walked out a few hours later with smiles and fantasies that lasted the whole week.
When I kissed Sara, the world drifted away, and I wanted more. When we visited the playroom, I touched the velvety softness of her skin but didn’t go further. I wanted to, but I wasn’t sure how.
“Not really,” I lied and returned to Alan’s erection.
The next night, as I lined my eyes and applied mascara, I peered at my reflection and wondered why I hadn’t told him. After a decade of marriage and all the exploration we had recently done, why couldn’t I tell him what I wanted? My mother's words echoed in my head — a reminder of why I pretended to be a straight woman for the past 20 years.
If any of my children told me they aren’t straight, I wouldn’t consider them mine.
I heard it more than once, and in more than one way, but the idea was a common refrain in our home during my teen years. The first time was the day after I had slept over at Jenny’s house. I wondered if my mother knew what happened when Jenny and I shared her twin bed.
The truth is life is easier as a heterosexual woman. I’ve seen the struggles my friends who are gay or queer experienced and count myself lucky to have avoided most of them. Of course, now that I’m married to a man, no one would think to question my straight status, including my husband.
But he asked. And everything I’ve ever told him about my sexual desires he accepted without hesitation. I checked my reflection one more time, smoothed my dress over my hips, and turned to find Alan. Before we left for the club tonight, I needed to tell him.
Coming Out to My Husband
“Wow, look at you! I am a lucky man,” Alan rose and slid his arms around my waist.
“You look great too. Kiss me.” I tilted my chin and closed my eyes, gathering one last bit of courage, “I have something I need to tell you.”
Alan immediately got that confused look a man gets when he thinks he may have done something wrong but can’t think of what it could be.
“No, nothing’s wrong, it’s just something I should tell you,” I lifted Alan’s wine glass off the table and took a sip, letting the burgundy liquid soothe my nerves, “Remember when you asked me about sexual fantasies?”
“I wasn’t honest with you, but it’s not a fantasy, more like something I’m compelled to do.”
“Please tell me it isn’t scat-play. I can handle anything but that.”
I laughed, choking on my second sip of wine, and waved my hand in the air, “No, oh my god.”
“Well, if it isn’t that, then we’re good. Tell me so I can make it happen for you,” Alan moved close to me again, his hand behind my neck, teasing my curls.
“You know last time at the club when I kissed Sara?”
“Yes, I remember that quite fondly.”
“Well, that wasn’t my first time kissing a woman, and I don’t want to do it just because men are watching and find it hot. I want women. I want them in the same way I want men. I never told you because I was scared of what you’d say about it, and I just let being afraid keep me from doing or saying it,” Once I’d opened the floodgate, the words tumbled out. I looked up at Alan, finally making eye contact, his hands hadn’t moved from my hair, and he smiled slightly.
“Well, then I think that our next order of business should be getting that figured out,” Alan kissed my forehead, “Thank you for telling me.”
On the drive to the downtown warehouse that the owner converted into a swinger’s club, Alan and I talked more about my desire for women. I told him about my experiences in college and how my kiss with Sara had reignited thoughts I had stuffed down inside for so long. I told him that I didn’t want to be with a woman as a sort of performance art for men around us. I didn’t want to recreate some porn fantasy; I wanted it for her and me.
“I can’t believe you never told me.”
“I know,” I shook my head, “I just was afraid.”
“What were you afraid of?” Alan glanced at me, a sideways smile making his blue eyes twinkle.
“I didn’t want you to feel like you weren’t enough.”
Alan laughed, “I’ve known you needed more than just me sexually since we started swinging. Variety is your thing, so it makes sense that women would be part of that. So, can we start calling you bisexual when we meet other couples?”
I nodded, and Alan shifted the car into park.
First Time at a Swingers' Club as an Out Bisexual Woman
From the outside, Vibe looked like the sort of place you’d avoid after dark, but the owners had undoubtedly worked some magic on the interior. Inside the club, R&B pulsed on the stereo, loud enough to dance to, but not so loud that it stifled conversations. Across the entryway, we could see that the bar was filling up; only one stool remained.
From this vantage point, a newcomer would think this was your regular neighborhood nightspot. It wasn’t until you got past the doorman that you would notice the erotic art on the walls and the lack of clothing on the women and was draped around the room. Swingers were a scantily clad bunch, and I felt like, for the first time, I could drink in all those feminine curves and softness without hiding my desire from Alan.
I took the last barstool, the skirt of my black dress riding up so that from the right angle, people could see the crotchless panties I’d worn underneath. In any other establishment, I would have pulled my hem down, but here, shorter is better.
Alan greeted the bartender, a petite Hispanic woman I’d enjoyed dancing with on our last visit. As she poured a glass of wine from our bottle and passed it to me, I remembered how her lips felt against my neck. I smiled, and she replied with a wink.
“You’re incredible,” Alan whispered in my ear, “It’s such a rush to be here with the most attractive woman in the room.”
I rolled my eyes at this common compliment; Alan believes I’m everyone’s type. I have enough experience to know differently. Sometimes I wonder how long love will blind him.
Alan and I settled into the familiar pattern of greeting couples we knew and scanning the room to find couples we might be interested in getting to know. Halfway through my glass of wine, I excused myself to the restroom, partly because I needed to and partly because I wanted an excuse to wander around the bar and people-watch.
On my return trip, I slid around the opposite side of the bar. I spotted them before they spotted me. Todd’s silver hair and lean runner’s build was striking in a blue shirt, and Sara wore a black bodysuit tucked into a gold miniskirt with heels higher than I would ever risk wearing. Her raven hair fell loose around her shoulders. I caught Todd’s eye and smiled, lifting my hand in a wave. He said something to Sara that caused her to turn, and my smile grew while my heart raced.
“You two are, here again. I’m so glad!” I hugged them both in greeting.
“It was a last-minute decision. We had a free night, and since we had so much fun last weekend, we decided to try our luck again,” Sara winked before sipping her drink.
Alan must have spotted us across the bar because he slid next to me, his arm around my waist as he shook Todd’s hand.
“Sara, good to see you again. You look incredible,” Alan leaned in and kissed Sara on the cheek.
We spent some time engaged in small talk, and someone mentioned the ridiculousness of Sara’s shoes, which she laughed off.
“I’m not planning on standing much tonight,” she winked at Alan, “I just wish your wife were a bit more into women; I’d love some time alone with her.”
I blushed at this, not sure how to respond. Last week we had told Todd and Sara that I enjoyed a bit of female-female sexual interaction but didn’t consider myself bisexual. That’s the same lie I told my entire life, and tonight was the first night I was living without it. All because of how it felt to kiss Sara.
“Well, with you, I think I’d like that,” I bit my lower lip.
The group froze, drinks partway to lips, and stared at me, “Oh really?” Todd tilted his head.
“Yeah, um, kissing you last week was kind of magical,” I glanced at Alan for encouragement. He nodded, “I have no idea what I’m doing with a woman’s body, but I’d like to learn.”
Sara set her vodka tonic on the bar, took my hand, and pulled me to her. Her fingers traced down my cheek and across my jaw before bringing her mouth to mine. This time I didn’t panic; this time, I kissed her long and slow — as I’d thought about all week. I let my hands trace down her arms, over the curve of her hips, and across her thighs. When she pulled away, I kept my eyes closed, wanting to remember the magic of this moment, the softness of her skin, the sting of vodka on her lips.
Slowly, I became conscious of the music from the dance floor. My eyes fluttered open, and I found Sara smiling at me, “Thank you,” I whispered.
“I think I’d like some time with you,” Sara’s voice was a husky whisper.
I nodded, “Alan, Sara, and I are going to find a space together.”
“Do you want Todd and me to join you?”
“Not just yet. We’ll let you know.” I took Sara’s waiting hand, and the two of us walked toward the play spaces, hoping to find some semblance of privacy. Generally, I was an exhibitionist, but given that I wasn’t sure how to pleasure a woman, I wanted a bit of privacy.
Our Passionate Kiss
The private playroom was empty, reminding me that it was still early in the evening. After midnight, the private room was never available.
Sara and I entered, and she drew the curtain closed behind us so that other attendees understood we didn’t want to be disturbed. LED candles flickered around the space; a large mattress covered in satin centered the room. A side table containing bottled water and condoms stood ready for whatever action the room might see that night.
“So, you’ve never been with a woman?” she asked as she sat on the plush mattress.
I shook my head, “Unless you count the times I fooled around with a woman when men were around, but that isn’t what I want.”
“What do you want?” She tilted her head.
“I’m not sure I even know. I just know that when I kiss you, my brain turns off and my body needs more.”
“Then, let’s start there.”
Sara reached for me and I slid onto the bed beside her. Sara kissed me gently, just a slight grazing of lips, and then pulled back. “You’re beautiful,” Her hand traced down my collarbone to my breasts and back up to my chin.
“Thank you,” I needed more.
I dragged Sara to me, pressing my lips to hers and letting my hands roam over the hills and valleys of her feminine form. When my fingers gripped her hips, her sharp inhale drove me further. I pushed her back against the bed and swung my legs around to straddle her, my lips never leaving hers.
Exploring Each Other. Finding Myself.
“Tell me what you like,” I breathed, my fingers dancing just outside her slit.
Sara bit her lip, her hips gyrating towards me, begging to be touched, “Um, light touches first.”
I stroked her labia, already moistened from her desire. I watched her eyes roll back and stroking her inner folds, stopping just at the base of her clit. When she moaned, I dipped my finger inside her slightly, then traced the wetness up and around her nub.
Sara inhaled sharply, her fingers digging into my thigh. I continued drawing circles around her clit, the same motion that does it for me. Not direct pressure, but a gentle, erotic tease of sensation that warms my legs and causes me to shake with need. Sara seemed to like this, too. She opened her eyes and pulled me to her.
“Kiss me, please,” She begged.
I was happy to oblige. While I kissed Sara, my fingers continued to play over her pleasure center. When she moaned, I gave more. Then, I switched, letting my fingers dance directly over her clit. I flicked back and forth while tasting her lips. I increased the pressure against her clit until she let loose, screaming her orgasm into my neck, her body shaking beneath me.
In an instant, her hands wound through the opening in my panties, “You’re so wet,” she moaned.
“Oh, please, touch me,” I pressed my hips toward her hand, wanting her, needing her to touch me.
“Tell me what you like,” Sara parroted my words.
“Um,” I bit my lip as she teased my folds open, “I like a combination of clitoral and g-spot stimulation.”
“Like this?” Sara’s fingers found their way inside me and danced against my vaginal wall while her thumb played against my clit.
I couldn’t respond. Ecstasy had stolen my voice. I gripped her hair at the nape of her neck, let my head fall back, and twisted my hips against her hand.
I felt the pressure building low in my abdomen, and Sara intensified the pressure against my pleasure spot. My face flushed, and a scream ripped through me as I found my release. We fell together and rolled. Laying on my back, I felt Sara’s fingers hook into the waistband of my panties and lifted my hips so she could side them down. She tossed them with my dress in the corner and then wiggled back and down, so her face rested between my legs.
“I’m going to lick you now.”
Starting with my right labia, Sara moved her tongue up and down the opposite side of my slit. Her tongue settled into my opening with a gentle back and forth wiggle, and I felt her moan vibrate against my lips. Sara let her tongue dance, creating a swirl of desire before settling against my clit.
This time, my climax was fast and ruthless. I gripped the sheets as I crested and felt sweat breaking out on my forehead as I fell. Sara shifted; her body stretched next to mine. Her hand lightly stroked my hips and thigh.
“I love how you can just keep cumming over and over again,” She whispered, placing a gentle kiss on my shoulder.
I turned, so we were face to face, “Thank you, I need this. I like you,” I smiled and kissed Sara, no longer afraid to initiate.
We laid there together, wrapped up in a naked embrace. I spent some of that time gazing at my new lover, her eyes closed, her lips parted. I hoped Sara didn’t notice the tears rolling slowly down my cheeks. A part of me had been stifled, hidden, and boxed up. Now that I’d dared to release it, I felt weightless and like I finally knew myself.
Eventually, we regained enough strength to make it back to the bar, dressed, if a bit rumpled.
Alan leaned down to whisper in my ear, “How was it?”
I smiled at him, kissed him deeply, and dragged him onto the dance floor. I couldn’t wait to tell him everything.
This article originally appeared in the July 2020 issue of ASN Lifestyle Magazine.