Forgive Me, Father, For I Have Sinned. . .

Well *I* haven't. Per se. . .

I slept with a straight woman. It happens right?! I mean, I'm bi (leaning more toward the male side on 99% of days--- don't tell my boyfriend that; he might get pissed that it's not 100% although I'd remind him that some days he "acts like a girl" so I really, technically lean HIS WAY all the time . . . this whole train of thought is silly; I'm done) ---but at ONE point I was only thinking about men. It was a long time ago, but it still exists. At one point I called myself . . . gasp . . . straight.

Well, HOMEGIRL (let's call her . . . Cougar. [PS. She's 48]) and I went out for drinks. We hugged the minute she walked into the door, drank our drinks and left. All in less than 25 minutes.
We got to her house, poured more drinks . . . and . . .

Wait, did I mention that Cougar has never been with a woman?!
Well, she HADN'T.

I DO like to break 'em in . . . and that's a male AND female reference! I'm feeling predatory today; that Shocker better look out (I'm 'sleeping over' tonight!)

Anyway, she got me a drink, we barely flirted and then I showed her my tattoo (ANNND my matching bra and panty set; she shoots --she scores!) . . . and the woman got downright AGGRESSIVE. She pulled my skirt all the way down, touched my tattoo and then slid her hand around the front of me. 3 minutes later, I was naked. And 3 minutes after that, we were upstairs --- with sex toys, alcohol, and the lights on.

She was loud, very vocal about what she wanted done to her and what she wanted to do to me, very bossy . . . and about an hour later, I was walking down the stairs naked. We were both fully satisfied.
She leaned against her wall with her arms folded, watched me get dressed, and made me say that I would be back soon to do it again.

I got pulled over (a bit tipsy) on the way home with expired tags and an out of state driver's license (and I've lived here for over a year) . . . NO TICKET. That's another story though . . . I'll call it: "Handcuff Me Softly."


Cue: sweet music as the sun rises, then the *ding* of a text message.
She feels she crossed a moral boundary that she didn't know she had; she feels the need to confess; she says she isn't judging ME (and still loves the fantasy OF me), but feels like what SHE DID was wrong; she had the best orgasm of her life, etc. And she wants to know if we can still be friends-- and share sex stories over drinks.

Of course we can, sweet little straight girl . . . but I'm only going to share the sex-capades of Shocker and I. The girl on girl stuff . . . I'll be keeping for myself! :-)