Since high school, I’ve been bi-curious despite my normal, heterosexual life. I’m married; I have a daughter; I’m an upstanding citizen—a fourth-grade teacher. However, I secretly dream about sexually pleasing chicks.

At 28 years old, I’ve never been adventurous. At college, I got drunk a lot. That was the one wild time in my life. One night, at a five-dollar-at-the-door frat party, I ended up chatting up some guy. He rubbed his hand up my thigh and kept refilling my rum and coke as I eyed some slutty girl across the room. She was licking her lips and making eye contact with me. She also flashed her snatch and wore a low-cut shirt that showed off her cleavage. All night, I dreamed about her pressing those erect nipples against me. She had me so hot, the guy sitting next to me thought he was making my cootch all wet and gooey. He leaned over to kiss me. I let him. As we approached his bedroom, we had to walk past the real object of my affection.

“Hi, I’m Cammy. Mind if I come too?” she asked us both.

The guy looked like his eyes might fall out of his head.

“Uh.” He stammered.
“Sure,” I said. Because of the booze, I said exactly what I thought which was not something I usually did. The three of us made our way to the bedroom. The guy leaned back on his unmade bed like he was the king of the world.

“So ladies,” he said. “What do you got for me?”

I looked at Cammy. Her eyes seared into me.

“I’ve noticed you around campus,” she said. I wished I could say the same to her, but I had never seen her before. I certainly would have noticed. She dressed like a total whore. She was skinny with big boobs that may have been fake—they had that full, round, hard, look to them. The thought that I had been secretly admired got me horny. I laughed embarrassingly and she smiled. “You ever been with a girl?” she asked.

“Enough chit chat,” guy said. I’d love to tell you his name, but that is one detail that slipped away from my memory. I looked over at him. Cammy grabbed my chin and directed my face toward hers. Then she gave me my first girl-on-girl kiss.

It tasted like mint gum and beer. I loved her smooth lips. Even my kisses were shy, but hers were the opposite. She let her tongue swirl inside my mouth. Her hands grabbed my waist and squeezed. I wondered what on earth this hot girl saw in me.

She pushed me on the bed as nameless guy moved his legs to let us onto the bed. He scooted to the side, and Cammy and I crawled up to the top. Then, I lay next to guy while Cammy made out with me. I heard some shuffling from guy and looked over to see that he had taken his shlong out of his pants and was rubbing one off. He reached over his other hand over to touch Cammy’s full breast through her shirt. She reached down, and with one movement, took her boob out of her low-cut shirt. Her perfect round nipple stood at attention and guy squeezed it between his thumb and finger. In the first forward move of my sexual life, I leaned up and began to flick that perfect nipple with my tongue.

“Thatta girl,” random guy said. Cammy pushed me down on the bed and kissed me hard and soft at the same time. She grinded against me and I finally got to enjoy the feeling of her firm tits pressed against mine. Just from grinding against me, she made me cum three times. All the while I sensed nameless guy’s hands exploring us. I heard him jerking off while I quietly oohed and ahhed. Eventually, when Cammy and I got up and went to rejoin the party, we noticed nameless guy had passed out with his dick in his hand. Cammy convinced me to put on fresh lipstick as she did the same. Then we put kiss marks all over guy’s body. Cammy even applied another coat and kissed the tip of his dick. He didn’t even move.

As we rejoined the party, we laughed about how he would wake up and think that he had forgotten the greatest night of his life. In fact, I caught wind of rumors of how he had serviced us both that evening. To my friends, I said that he was a liar and it never happened. To myself, I said that I was drunk and otherwise would never have let that happen. I probably would have gone on believing that if I hadn’t had another girl-on-girl story in my past.

Senior year, I lived with Iesha, a gorgeous African-American track star. She’d come home from her three-hour practices all sweaty and ripped, and she’d strip right in front of me. Then she’d shower with the door open telling me stories about the girls at practice. She was an open lesbian as most of the female athletes at our school were. She’d tell me how Sarah and Katy snuck away from the running path to eat each other out in the woods. She’d tell me how she made out with the track coach—an old lezzie named Natalie who loved to watch the girls. Several of them chose not to wear a sports bra or any bra—a big no-no in track and field, but Natalie never told them about it. She loved to watch those college tits bounce.

I heard Iesha turn off the water and listened to her step from the stall to the bath mat. I got ready for my favorite college pastime. Iesha stepped out of the bathroom wearing nothing. Her dark wet curly hair fell to her shoulders. Her muscular yet feminine body seemed to me like the perfect combination in a lover: soft female meets hard muscles. As usual, I checked her out as she sashayed over to her side of the room. This time, though, she saw me.

“You checking me out?” she asked. She swung around and pointed her tits at me. “Did my hot ass finally bring you to the other side?”

“Yeah right,” I covered. “You wish.”

That night, when we came home from yet another drunken frat party, we began to raid the mini fridge and Iesha made fun of my flirting skills. She told me I had no game.

“I got game,” I swore in my drunken voice.

“Ha,” she laughed.

I leaned over. In the interior light of the mini-fridge, I tongue-kissed her. I had always wondered if Iesha had a crush on me, her straight roommate, and from the reaction I got, I was pretty sure that she did indeed want me. She quickly started kissing me and didn’t say another word. We lay there on the floor of our dorm. For the first time in my whole life, a girl ate me out.

No wonder those track and field lezbos were always hanging out together. Iesha ate pussy like no man. She made love to my pussy. Then she coached me on to how eat her pussy. She taught me how to dart my tongue across her clit as I stuck three fingers into her saturated snatch. She coached me until the sun came up. And then we went to sleep in our own beds. In the morning, I lay there for a long time wondering why, when I got drunk, I often found myself a hot chick and indulged my lesbian fantasies.

When I got married to a wonderful man, I was sure my days of being with women were over. I had a husband now. My husband, however, loves porn. I think one of the reasons that he married me was because I saw his love of porn as a hobby, not an addiction. I even loved to watch porn with him. He thought it was cute how I would get all worked up when he brought home lesbian porn. We would watch the DVDs as he and I fucked on the couch. What he didn’t know was that aside from the porno DVDs I watched with him, I was checking out lesbian porn online.

I was reading stories and watching clips. No matter how many years I stayed in our marriage, I could not forget those nights I had spent in college learning how to please a lesbian. I could not forget Cammy’s slutty appearance or Iesha coming from the shower nude. Now that I had felt a set of ample tits pressed against my chest, I wanted to feel it again. When I watched that lesbian porn, I’d find myself dripping wet, unable to sleep until I rubbed my clit into an orgasm. Now that the characters on my favorite show Grey’s Anatomy were having a lesbian relationship, I felt like I saw girl-on-girl action wherever I looked. I was obsessed

I even fantasized about women who work at school.

One teacher’s aide especially caught my eye. She is an older teacher’s aide name Chelsie. Sure, her body is not as tight as my college conquests, but Chelsie is pretty hot. She wears tight sweaters and I find myself staring at her chest. She wears tight pants, and I find myself checking to see if she is wearing a thong. I also look for camel toe and any sign of her checking me out.

One day during planning period as I sat in the faculty lounge by myself, Chelsie walked in and went to the fridge. She said, “Heidi, do you still watch Grey’s Anatomy?” When the show began, we were both hooked, but we hadn’t talked about it in some time.

“Every week,” I tell her.

“Can you believe the relationship between Callie and Erica?”

My crotch immediately began to ooze. Callie and Erica had been carrying on a lesbian affair for a few weeks now.

“I know,” I agreed “Lesbians making out on prime time television. It’s crazy.”

From then on, Chelsie and I had weekly conversations about the lesbian characters on Grey’s Anatomy. And every time she brought a storyline to my attention, my pants got soaked between my legs, and I’d start remembering Iesha and Cammie. Every week, I wondered if Chelsie would be my third lesbian conquest, but I never had the chance to make my move. Without the alcohol, I just wasn’t outgoing.

After this week’s Grey’s, I came into work sure that I would tell Chelsie how I felt. I thought she was sending me signals, but I still wasn’t absolutely sure. Not until Chelsie related a sexy scene involving Erica. After explaining the scene, she whispered “I was flicking my Bic all night if you know what I mean.”

Signal accepted, I thought.

We were also both interested in a movie advertised during Grey’s. Nights in Rodanthe looked like a good chick flick. We planned to leave our husbands at home and hit the movies together some time to see it.

“How bout this weekend?” Chelsie said, and I agreed.

Normally, I’d get ready for such plans by brushing my hair and putting on fresh clothes. For this date, however, I showered and shaved every last inch of skin. I put on makeup and perfume. The movie was forgettable, but Chelsie and I made it worth our time. During a love scene, she held my hand and didn’t let it go. During a boring stretch of story, she leaned over to kiss me. Suddenly I was back in college again. Even though I wasn’t drunk, I let myself kiss back.

After the movie, we went to a nearby motel. Chelsie got us a room while I waited in the car. Once inside, she pulled me close to her and said, “I have wanted to spend the night with you for a long time. I know you’re married and everything, and I am too, but I still want you.”

“Me too,” I said. She began to kiss me passionately. We went to the bed were we grinded and kissed.

“Can we take our clothes off?” she asked. She reminded me of a college guy who couldn’t wait to bust a nut. I felt so… wanted.

We quickly stripped off her clothes.

“I’ve never done this before,” she whispered.

For once, I was the aggressor—the experienced one. I told her to lean back and then I made myself remember Iesha’s directions. I licked that pussy like it was my last meal on earth. I wondered what my husband would say if he could me see me like this—like one our DVD girls, face down in a river of snatch.

Chelsie called out in ecstasy. “Oh Heidi,” she kept saying. “I’ve been imagining this for so long.” I still got it, I thought. Since high school, I had been appearing in women’s lesbian fantasies. I admitted that I imagined her too, and she instantly came. She squirted all over my face.

Then, she flipped me over and buried her face in my tits. We made out like high schoolers, fell asleep, and then fucked some more.

At school, we still talk about Grey’s. We talk about things we’d like to do to each other and dreams we have about each other’s bodies. I am pretty sure that beneath my ordinary life, I am a raging, insatiable lesbian. Chelsie tames me, and I teach Chelsie everything I know.