My lesbian lust for Auntie Evie

My lesbian lust for Auntie Evie 15.

I awoke Sunday morning rather sore. It was the first time my pussy was sore after sex, since I could remember. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed every minute of it, even when Walter was in me, but finally being able to be alone with Evie and us ravishing each other like we normally do, after he left, was heartwarming.

Over the next week, my mind was deep in thought. I couldn't tell you when I changed or how I changed, but there was no denying my love for her. My lust for women, my desire to spend the rest of my life waking up next to my beautiful wife. I think I had finally accepted that our situation wasn't some random meet. It was destiny. I was a lesbian. I liked women more. I liked eating pussy. I liked sucking on tits and kissing a female with beautiful red painted lips.

I remember standing in front of my mirror one evening before I slipped into a long, hot bath. I watched as I slipped my bra off, seeing my perky, sexy tits come free. When I slipped my panties off, my perfectly waxed pussy lay softly between my legs. How I just stood in front of that full-length mirror, just looking at my body, hoping that the years that would come would be kind to me. That I wouldn't change. That Evie would be aroused seeing me, just as I was aroused seeing her, and how deep inside of me I wanted to be staring at a woman, instead of seeing a naked man.

I had made up my mind. I was going to propose to Evie. I just had to find the right place and the right time. I wanted us to get away for a romantic weekend, like we did a couple of months ago. But now that Walter knew of us and was supposed to join us occasionally, I didn't think she'd be able to slip away. More importantly, how would this all end up, now that he knew? What would happen if we did get away and she did say yes? How would it turn out when we got back home? Would she tell him she was leaving? That she wanted a divorce? That she wanted to be with me? Was she comfortable enough to accept that she was going to live the rest of her life as a lesbian? Become married to a woman. I knew I was okay with it, but was she? That was the question.

Over the past month or so, just after Evie and I got caught, I had started coming out to my small group of friends first. Most of them seemed okay with my life choices or even my love for Evie. Some warned me about her age or that she was married, even though we both had admitted our love for one another. I took a very brave step. I sat my parents down and told them I was in love with Evie. They weren't happy about it. Not because it was a woman, but because it was someone 20 years older than I who was still married. But I had to be honest with them, and, more importantly, honest with myself. I posted to my Facebook account that I was "bisexual," that I was coming out, and wanted everyone to know. I got some negative feedback, but most people liked or thumbs-upped my post and left supportive comments. There was no turning back now. My secret was out. I felt scared and uneasy as I posted it, but I also felt free from the secrecy in my life.

I couldn't have been more excited to finally and truly start breaking the barriers that were holding me back. The proverbial weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I could be who I wanted to be. I could finally answer someone's questions when they asked me if I was dating anyone. I could finally say, "Yes, my girlfriend and I..."

I stepped further into my new lifestyle by joining several online support groups, chat pages, and even a dating site. I wasn't on the site to meet someone. Still, I also felt that if things didn't work out with Evie, at least maybe I'd have the ability to communicate with other women like myself, maybe meet some new friends, or even develop a network of people in my area who were bisexual or lesbian. The response and feedback was amazing. I had so many women write to me or ask me out. There were several women on the chat pages who seemed to gravitate toward me, seeking advice or suggestions on how to break free as I had. They, like me, were looking to meet someone to develop something and eventually come out. Or at least try to be in a lesbian relationship. In conversations with the many women I chatted with, it seemed we had an instant, honest, open, heartfelt dialogue, breaking down any barriers in discussing ourselves, our wants, and our needs, and opening up to one another.

A host of those conversations turned very sexual and very intimate over time. It was as if the door was open to them to express their desires, wants, and needs through chat. Just as I was expressing mine. I've always said it is much easier to be brave and open behind a keyboard versus a one-on-one, face-to-face conversation. But how exciting it was to hear from woman after woman telling me they have wanted to be with women for years. How they had crushes on girls in high school or college, how they longed for a co-worker or another mom in the area. How they masturbated about it. How they got wet, or aroused, thinking about it. Some were older, some around my age, some had been or were currently married, some were divorced, and wanted to open the door to a different lifestyle, but were scared of the repercussions of suddenly dating women.

It was essentially very uplifting, very arousing, very resonating with me, because during my time with Evie and being a younger woman who was slowly and deeply becoming entranced and falling in love with another female, I didn't have those resources. I didn't have anyone to talk to. So, when someone asked me a question, sought advice, or wanted to hear how I fell in love or made the conscious decision to sleep with a woman, I was more than willing to communicate and share.

I got very close to many of the women on there in a very short amount of time, and even though this part of the story overlaps with my time with Evie, through it all, there were nights when I was home at night chatting back and forth with some of the women, where the dirty talk and naked pictures would start. It surely wasn't immediately, but I couldn't tell you how many negligee or titty pictures I received through the support sites, eventually on personal cell phones, and how I would quickly respond with some of my own. Even though I was absolutely in love with Evie, it was beyond exciting and arousing to get a message on my phone from a woman in another part of the country, who was rubbing her clit while orgasming, which made me dripping wet.

Even some of the most benign conversations with someone who would secretly admit to me that they sexually desired their kids' classroom teacher, or the soccer mom who lived down the street, a co-worker, or a mutual friend in the neighborhood, would get me very excited. To hear them say that they had fantasized about it or masturbated about someone got me aroused. Because I knew where they stood, where they were coming from, how they felt internally, and how badly they wanted it. Just as I had before, I completely became sexually active with Evie.

There'd be nights where I was holding my phone with one hand, while the other was down in my panties, rubbing my clit as I chatted back and forth. Even if the conversation wasn't directly involving me, it was overly exciting to hear some of the deep, dark secrets come to light. To hear someone else say, I want to kiss her, I want us to sneak away to a parking lot and make out, I want to feel her pussy, I want to eat her out, made me so fucking horny that I'd be finger fucking myself, all while trying to write back words of love and support.

All the conversations were exceedingly thrilling. It was as if every morning I was getting a shot of estrogen jammed into my veins that would keep me awake, alive, and wet for hours on end. I was constantly horny. I was even more assured and self-aware of my desires when every morning, I'd wake up to 3 or even 4 text messages from women throughout England, Ireland, Scotland, and even Germany, writing things like, "Good morning, Bella. I was thinking about you." I hope you had a great day. Thanks for the chat last night, Bella. You really opened my eyes."

My hand was in my panties a lot. I started to realize that as much as I was in love with Evie and wouldn't trade her for the world, when I got pictures and videos from women (some married) naked, masturbating or writing to me they "Wished we lived closer, so we could be together," was nothing but confirming in my decisions that this was exactly who I was supposed to be and who I was supposed to be in love with. And that was women.

Of course, I was very open and honest with everyone of them. I told them how exciting it was the first time I kissed Evie. The time I lifted my shirt in the parking lot so she could see and feel my tits. When I first reached down into her panties, while she was shaking with nerves, to find her wet slit. The first time I ate her out. The first time she did it to me. The first time, I believe we both became very comfortable making love to each other.

Then, to have someone I was talking to finally say to me, "I'm going to ask about my interest." Or to hear they had their first kiss after a wonderful day of shopping and dining. To read a message from someone telling me they are dying to eat pussy, after they slip a pair of panties off. To be with a woman, to make love as they never had before, brought me back through all of my experiences in college and, of course, my lust for Evie. To admit they wanted to be in a lesbian relationship. To do something they never expected. To finally take that chance and at least try. It was satisfying, yet mind-blowing for me, just as it was for them.

I can't tell you how wildly erotic, sexual, and different it was to be sending little 20 or 30-second videos of my fingers sliding in and out of my pussy to a woman on the other side of the country, while watching her little 20 or 30-second videos of her doing the same to herself. To hear the wetness of her fingers slamming in and out of her, while the soft, little moans of pleasure were echoing in the background. To watch her lock her legs as she came, only to grunt out "Bella," Was incredibly satisfying. To know I had some woman's attention by telling her that I was a lesbian, to send her some titty pics, and know deep inside I was drawing her into this lifestyle was liberating and filled me with adrenaline.

In the meantime, through all of this, I kept pushing for Evie and me to be together. I would send her little messages. I would call her from my work line, I would whisper sweet nothings to her, and tell her how much I longed to be with her. To wake up next to her. To make love to her anytime she needed it. I told her I had started coming out. I told my parents about her. And in most instances, she was happy for me, was glad I was making the choices I needed to make, and that I wanted to be with her.

I pushed really hard by sending Evie several messages over the next week, asking her if we could get away. Even if we just went downtown and spent the night in one of the upscale hotels. Maybe see a play or listen to the symphony, then spend time alone. Each idea was met with her "loving it," but then she'd give me the impression that Walter "probably wouldn't let her go, if he wasn't there."

I didn't want to hint too hard that I had a big surprise for her or that I was going to propose, but I also didn't want to be doing it in the front seat of her car or just on a random Sunday if she managed to stop over without him being around. Yet, I was trying to push for us to be alone, to be making love, to be who we wanted to be. Sadly, during one of our text conversations, she wrote, "She and Walter had no plans next Saturday night, and she would love it if I could come to dinner and spend time with them."

She had no idea how bad those words broke my heart. I didn't want Walter. I wanted her. I wanted to be alone. Even if we didn't have sex, I just wanted to be with her, and she wasn't getting my hint. Sadly, I couldn't say no. If I wanted to see her that week, or even somewhere in the future, I had to swallow down (no pun intended) the idea of spending time with her and Walter, until he got his fill and released her short collar, letting her come be with me at our whim. So, I agreed to come over the following Saturday. I knew what was coming. I'm not dumb. I couldn't fathom how she believed that this was going to be the way we moved forward, or if this was how our lives together were going to be, or if I was being played. But this whole "Walter wants" shit was already starting to get tiring.

I mean, I couldn't have thrown myself at her any more than I had, or even was doing, to hear, "Oh, Walter and I are free next weekend." Meanwhile, I was starting to build online friendships with a host of women, who, during our course of conversation (later in time), were telling me they wanted me. They wished we lived closer, so we could be together. Who wanted to come out and be in a lesbian relationship with me. Yet I was cowering to her wants, and, more importantly, to Walter's demands.

Well, I decided enough was enough. I was going to go there on Saturday. I was going to do what I needed to do with them. With Walter. But when the night was over, I was going to demand that Evie and I have time alone the following Saturday. That it would be just her and me, and if Walter didn't like it, tough. In essence, Evie needed to back me up, stand her ground, or make a decision, either him or me, or not at all. And if things went according to my plans, when I did get her alone, I was going to propose, hopefully put an end to her and Walter, and start a life for just Evie and me.

I'll tell you all about that Saturday night, and our second threesome. But then the following Saturday, when I proposed in the upcoming chapters. Stay tuned, this gets good.