It’s no secret that I find women attractive.  Why shouldn’t I?  I am a woman, and I know how beautiful and desirable we can be.  Today, many of my fantasies concern women in some way, and on the rare occasion that I find myself in an intimate situation with another woman I savor every kiss, every caress, every taste.

Have I always been attracted to women?  I can’t say for sure.  While it’s something that I’ve been aware of for many years, I have only recently come to terms with these desires.  In my single days I was reluctant to admit that I found women sexy, so making love to one was certainly off-limits.

I don’t know why I was so reluctant, but I’m sure it has a lot to do with my Catholic upbringing and the way I was socialized.  When I was younger I was usually fixated on what I felt society wanted me to be, namely a wife and mother.  I assumed that once I settled down and had children, there would be no need for my eye to wander, whether to other women or other men.

In addition, I was determined not to disappoint my parents.  As the second eldest of a very large family, I felt as though I was the example my younger siblings were expected to follow.  I wanted to be what I thought my parents expected me to be.  So while I occasionally felt desire for women, not only did I stifle it, I usually admonished myself for it afterwards.

(I should make clear that nothing my parents said or did when I was growing up indicated anything other than unconditional love.  Regardless of my sexual orientation, I doubt that they would ever judge me.  However, that doesn’t mean that I want them to know that Jack and I practice occasional non-monogamy.)

When I was a teenager, or probably even a pre-teen, a very close friend of mine showed me a porn magazine.  It wasn’t the first time I’d seen one, but it was the first time I’d gotten so worked up about it that I had to get off.  I was sleeping over her house, and just before bed she brought the magazine into her bedroom so we could look at it together.

The magazine belonged to her father, and when we were done looking at it, she had to rush it back to whatever hiding place she’d taken it from.  Her parents were in the living room watching a movie, and we had about an hour before they would be going to sleep.  It was exciting to thumb through a magazine we both knew we shouldn’t have been reading, especially given the urgent ticking clock.

It doesn’t matter which magazine it was, or even what sexual activities were depicted on its pages.  What matters is that I found myself getting just as aroused by the sight of the women’s feminine curves, soft breasts, and aroused labia as I did by the firm chests, muscled arms, and thick, veiny cocks of the men.  By the time my friend returned the magazine to her parents’ room my pajama bottoms were very wet.

Before we went to sleep, we talked about the pictures and the stories in the magazine.  We both felt guilty about the pleasure we’d derived from our sneaky voyeurism, but not so guilty that we weren’t incredibly turned on.  Still, I wasn’t going to mention how sexy I found the women unless my friend did first, and she didn’t.  So the most I said was that they were pretty.

But after she’d fallen asleep I slipped a hand down the front of my pajamas and fingered myself for awhile.  It felt good, and I kept picturing one of the women from the magazine.  She was a cute strawberry blonde in cut-offs and cowboy boots who has a tryst with a sexy farm hand.  The farm hand was sexy, and hung, but for some reason I couldn’t get my mind off of the pretty girl he fucks in a hayloft.

I’d had orgasms before, though never with a friend sleeping right beside me.  In retrospect it was really hot to get off that way, though at the time having her next to me was an impediment to my orgasm.  After all, I was a young girl who was somewhat conflicted about her sexuality, and this was my best friend.

Now, though?  Now I fantasize about her pretty often.  We’ll never have sex, of course.  But I’d like to.

-Jill