A Married Woman’s Lesbain Fantasies

Though I’m getting back to normal for the most part, my recent experience (see my The Business Trip) has made my fantasizing quite different. I can barely look at a picture of a naked woman without thinking of her, without comparing each curve, without wondering how the scent and taste of the model would compare to hers. I’m not in love nor obsessed and I am able to function perfectly well in all other facets of life. Just when I go for some Solitary Vice fun in front of my computer it gets a bit like the restaurant scene in Being John Malkovich where he sees his own face on every body there – only it’s her face, her breasts, her pussy I see.

But this isn’t about her for now and so I’m not going to indulge in looking back.

As I mentioned in some previous post, this all began with an old boyfriend some years back. We’d look at some of his magazines or a porno vid and I would find myself appreciating the models or actresses more and more. We would just about always have amazing sex after. At first I thought (or rationalized) that it was because he was all the more turned on for being able to share his pornos with me – since that is so often something men keep secret from their lovers. But eventually I had to admit that I liked looking not only at naked women but at beautiful ones and ones in overtly sexual and/or revealing positions. I think I liked the sight of a woman spreading her vagina or bottom as much as he did. Anyway we didn’t last all that long and after we broke up I found myself looking at sites on my own.

I regard myself as fairly feminist. As I looked at pictures of women bending over to give me a rather proctological view or sat with their vaginas spread open enough for me to nearly make out the cervix I was at first disturbed by my own feelings. This is exactly the exploitation of my own gender that NOW and my parish fight against. I didn’t really think about it until I began indulging alone. With him it was still too new, too much a part of our foreplay, and just somehow too “out of my hands”, as it were, for much analysis. But when I looked for pictures on my own, and when I began looking for sites that featured woman in situations I particularly liked – well that was different. I should have been offended or incensed by the exploitation. But I wasn’t. I was turned on and I was masturbating!

I began noticing something. As I indulged, my specific desires shifted. At first it was the beautiful naked women but by now I wasn’t excited unless she showed me everything. I wanted her to spread and bend. And my taste in what kind of anus or vagina I liked got more and more specific. I like my vaginas with what I think of as little tongues poking out. I always fantasized about flicking them with my tongue. And I like my assholes with just a little ridge around the hole. Of course I enjoyed breasts, nipple, those amazing dimples above some women’s bottom cheeks, certain curves like between arm and armpit. But those all could qualify as “woman’s beauty” or “artistic” or some euphemistic twaddle. No – I was thinking more about an utter fascination and attraction to seeing their holes, close up and in detail. I’d once read some newspaper advice columnist advise her female reader that she should look at the porn her husband was interested in but not to be surprised that it was more gynecological than erotic. The columnist was wrong – it was erotic in part because it was gynecological.

Of course this made me more curious than I’d ever been about my own equipment, now that I had some “vocabulary” so to speak, about the variations of such things. Of course I’d looked at myself before but with nothing to compare it too it was in a more detached, simply curious way I suppose, though that isn’t quite right either. Now I knew that to my eye, at least, not all pussies and assholes were attractive. Some – even if their owner was stunning otherwise – were downright repulsive to me. Most were fine. Most were on the good side. But to me, that feminist, “female positive”, Vagina Monologues (yetch) line that “they are all beautiful” just isn’t true. And I was afraid I wouldn’t like mine. Anyway I pulled out my magnifying mirror and looked. I found that my ass is pretty close to what I liked, the ridge was just a bit closer to the outside than I preferred but otherwise it looked nice, clean (as in lines, not hygiene which I took for granted, thank you), the colors fading from pink/skin tone to darker browninsh/skin tone. Yes, yes. I know not everyone is that interested in the minutia of what my anus looks like but I was and it’s part of my story. And I discovered a small freckle off to one side which I’d never known was there. I felt that pride a girl feels when she feels pretty – and I had my secret beauty mark to boot. Yes – I feel a bit silly and I felt that way at the time – but my asshole made me feel pretty. But my vagina was a little disappointing. I don’t have those tongues I like. I did find my lips to be quite nice. Big by the standards of the pictures I’d seen but most of them had inner lips which didn’t peek out at all. Mine do and they are dark and wrinkly in a way that just looks nice to me. They are sensitive and so feel almost like a separate erogenous zone. When I spread myself open I was surprised at the deep color I saw. As they say – it’s all pink on the inside – buy I am a rather deep rose. And I have a wrinkly little pucker around the entrance to my vagina. And my vagina looked small – as I once saw described on a website – a One Finger Pussy. So no tongues but a cute donut instead. And my clitoris looked adorable to me. Not too long but fairly round so it held back the hood enough to be clearly seen and touched. So in general my porno bits please me. Not perfect but I was quite happy with what I found. Pornographic pictures had led me to this discovery. It wasn’t exploitive of my gender it was empowering. I enjoyed every time thereafter when a new lover got to discover my beauty mark for the first time. And knowing what he was seeing and that the sight pleased me, now as a knowledgeable consumer of porn, made me feel more confident.

I let my fingers roam, spreading myself open in various ways. Of course this felt lovely and it was interesting that my porno woman was me. I was watching myself masturbate and gazing into my own spread ass and puss. Though fun and I did make myself come – that was an interesting sight – it wasn’t like the looking at other women. My mirror wouldn’t replace my monitor.

This whole feminist thing is really a sort of aside. It wasn’t a huge chapter in my story but I though it a bit interesting. I’d be curious if other women have had similar experiences.

The major thing was still the whole lesbian thing. Am I gay? Bi-sexual? Are such definitions important or even meaningful? I don’t know now and certainly didn’t then. I wasn’t interested in sleeping with any women and I suppose I didn’t exactly chase men but I didn’t discourage them either. Before my husband I had 4 fairly serious relationships and another 4 more causal ones. But when available I dated a lot. I even had a couple, shall we say, weekend stands. But when I masturbated I liked more and more to think about or look at woman. I tried looking at men and on some gay porn sites I found men that would make me literally drool if I saw them in a pub but somehow in pictures they just weren’t that interesting. It was like judging a horse. I could appreciate the aesthetic qualities fully but just not feel that magic draw. Fairly soon I gave up and found that sites with woman alone or in pairs were what I liked best. Hmmm… And I liked watching one woman spread another and slowly and deeply lick her. With a flat tongue go all over. When the camera could get the angle right I liked it when one was on her back and the other between her legs but usually that blocked exactly that which I wanted to see. So usually I liked watching when the bottom in a 69 was working away at a nice, plump, juicy, bald or trimmed juicyfruit. From that angle I could see the tongue working its magic. But mostly I like pictures. There I can stare and imagine all I want and move on to the next.

Now I don’t want to give the impression that I became obsessed with female genitalia alone. No, I still appreciated all the beauty and magic that woman can have. This is about the feelings I discovered specifically about those naughty bits. I’ve never had an issue with appreciating the aesthetic beauty of a woman but it was non-specific and non-sexual. Until this epiphany I vaguely agreed with the NOW sort of line that nude art was ok and usually found in museums and expensive books. Pornography was exploitive and usually found in the dark. I hadn’t spent any serious time thinking about it but it did seem about right.

And so there I was – a straight, moderately feminist woman who liked to masturbate looking at pictures of naked woman.