The events of the last twenty-four hours have been insane; almost too much to come to terms with. That dry spell I was worried about? Well, it's been broken. And how!
I've known for a while now that I'm bi-curious. The Ex almost had me convinced that I was bisexual (and that that was a bad thing) way back when, the time I licked my best friend's fingers and enjoyed it. Guys have this tendency to get really insecure about bisexual women - and I'm not surprised. The irony is that the girl I spent last night with had recently been broken up with because (amongst other things) the boyfriend couldn't deal with her bisexuality. Today's his birthday, incidentally, so we had to go watch him cutting a cake at midnight. She and I were crazy drunk from the party earlier.
She propositioned; I confessed indecision; she pressed; I remained undecided; she initiated it with a kiss; I didn't resist.
She was really, really fucking good at what she did, making me beg, whine and moan to be touched some more every time she stopped. I'd like to believe that I didn't do so badly myself, but the darkness coupled with my slight hesitation didn't allow me to be as daring as I would have liked to be. But she seemed to like whatever it was that I did manage to do. And I think I surprised her (pleasantly) by bringing out the ropes and toys and lube and using them as I did. It'd been so long since I had indulged in play that it felt really good to go through the motions, make the whispers, elicit moans, punish and bestow as I pleased.
It was fun. It was sexy. It was erotic. It was drunken. It was my first time with another girl. It was great. Fucking. (ha.) Great.
And to remind myself of it, I have a deep, dark red bruise on my neck where she marked me with her mouth.
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