Dirty Little Secrets
Welcome to BRB, everyone! Okay, I don't usually hand out warnings because everyone, well almost everyone, knows BRB is an adult content blog. And for those who didn't, consider yourself forewarned! LOL
According to the stats I'm pretty average for the working class Canadian. I'm a white, Anglo-Saxon, protestant woman married with two point two children that lives in a middle class neighbourhood. There are two cars in my garage, we have a cat and a thirty-six hundred square foot home on a quarter acre lot. Supposedly, the area I reside in is considered sort-of snob hill (I don't think so). To me, my house is average for the suburb. As far as my appearance, I think I'm all right, not beautiful but not ugly, attractive in my own way. Never had a problem attracting the opposite sex. My husband and I own a logistics and transportation company, which is just a fancy way of saying 'trucking company'. My children are aged twenty-three and fifteen, and our eldest who is gone was aged thirty-three, and I'm forty-five years of age. No I didn't give birth to my son at aged eleven you silly people! LOL He was my step-son. My husband's nine years my senior (second marriage).
Anyway, you get the gist of what I'm saying. I'm an average women and regardless if you changed my race or religion you'd still come up with the same boring statistics. Now, I'd like you to keep that information in mind. You can tuck it away while reading the rest of this article, but make sure it's handy for future reference. My sexual preference is heterosexual, no secret there. Okay, for the most part, yes. But there have been different points in my life where I seriously wondered if I was bi or perhaps lesbian. And here's where my thoughts stem from.
When I was six years old I'd had two contrasting sexual experiences. The first was a touchy-feelie situation with a twelve year old boy, a neighbour and my best friend. The other was with a girl. The first incident remained a secret, but the second got me in a whole pile of trouble. A school chum, I'll call Sharon, had asked to stay at my place for a sleepover. It was the normal routine. My mother asked her mother, blah, blah, blah, and the following Friday Sharon walked home with me after school. Up until that point, I new nothing of sex other than boys and girls did naughty things without their parents knowledge. What does a child really comprehend anyway? Children have weird and distorted misconceptions of many things in life prior to maturity, after which they usually gain a little more wisdom.
We did the normal things everyone does at sleepovers. We watched a movie and ate, played with toys and talked. Then when it came time for bed, Sharon did something I'll never forget. Sharon took her panties off and bent over naked in front of me. She asked me to touch her and I refused. Then she wanted to touch me. I freaked because I knew if my mother caught us I'd be beaten to within an inch of my life. Hardcore Baptist. But at the same time I'd been in shock and hadn't fully grasped what happened. Remember, I was approximately six years old. Looking back at the incident with adult eyes, I realize that either Sharon was experimenting, or she had definite sexual preferences already established, or something far worse had gone on in her personal life that no one was aware of. Sharon went home the next day. And that night my mother received a phone call. Yep, you guessed it. Sharon told her mother I had touched her. I don't why she told her mother anything, but I do recall my mother gave me shit and no matter what I said she hadn't believed me. She took the word of the other girl and her mother over mine. My childhood and my mother were an issue for me while growing, but that's a story for another time.
Another incident occurred in high school. Again, I'd gone to a friend's house to stay over night, and let's call her, Tabitha. Tabitha lived alone with her mother. From what I'd understood her parents had divorced during her early childhood. The strange thing, she slept with her mother in the same bed: a big, white-leather, circular waterbed. What sixteen year old girl sleeps with her mother? Trust me, that night and Tabitha's whole life were something straight out of the Twilight Zone.
Okay, so I went over and after we watched a movie, talked and shared a few cigarettes, I went to the bathroom. When I returned Tabitha had stripped naked and she was sitting on the kitchen counter with her legs spread, which gave me the whole explicit show. She was playing with herself and asked me to lick her. I wasn't a petite girl at five foot eight, one hundred and forty-five pounds. I worked out, was muscular and hell of a lot bigger than Tabitha. Her begging was like a midget asking a giant to stroke his cock, it wasn't going to happen. LOL And sadly, I did have to fight her off. She was unbelievably aggressive. We argued and she cried telling me how much she loved me, and how much she'd wanted me throughout high school. And here's me, totally F***ing oblivious.
Once things calmed down, I did what I normally would've, I withdrew and contemplated my next move very carefully. I couldn't leave because she'd threatened to tell my mother we'd smoked dope and have her Rottweiler attack me. It was an uncomfortable and frightening situation to be in at sixteen. So, I made a promise. I told her no one would ever know she was a lesbian and that we were still friends; I even allowed her to cuddle and kiss me on the couch. When her mother got home around midnight, I pretended like everything was great and bided my time until I could sneak away later. Not long afterward we went to bed and, you guessed it again, the three of us in the same bed with me stuck in the middle between Tabitha and her mother. I laid there in the dark for what felt like forever, waiting until I was positive they were asleep. Then I inched off the waterbed (yeah, I know, it was tricky), slipped out of the room, threw on my clothes, snuck past the sleeping dog in the back coatroom and out the front door. It took me two hours to walk home in the pitch black. And the look on my mother's face when she answered the door at four in the morning was nothing short of concerned bewilderment. She wanted to know what happened, but I'd refused to say. To this day she still doesn't know, though it's bothered her and she's repeatedly asked. Tabitha and I never spoke again. Too weird for me.
I've had women rub against me in bars. I've even had a few attempt to kiss me, and several friends come on to me. One asked me to dance, told me I was beautiful and she really wanted to try sex. Another friend confessed she loved me and was devastated when I met my husband (second). A lady construction worker used to come into the cafe where I'd worked (years ago) and she always gave me a five dollar tip, then asked me out to dinner. When I explained I had a husband and kids and flashed my wedding rings, her reaction: extremely upset. I felt awful.
I don't know what it is or why all these women have tried to pick me up. What's the attraction? I've questioned myself repeatedly. Is it the forbidden fruit? Do I give off the wrong vibes? My personal perspective, I can be very masculine, sort of a Tomboy, but equally as feminine. I have a lower voice (I've been told sultry voice) and aggressive persona, maybe some women find a larger, stronger woman like me more appealing. Have I ever had sexual thoughts about women? I have to confess, yes. I think it's natural when you've been approached by others of the same sex and if you do find them physically attractive you're bound to feel something. The construction worker was very pretty; I'd actually pictured her naked while we'd talked at one point. I know sexually I could easily please another female. But it's whether I really want to or not. Deep down I love men and I've never felt a strong enough urge for the same sex, but that doesn't mean I couldn't take a female partner. In my eyes, love doesn't discriminate. What do you think? Food for thought.
Blak Rayne
