I discovered I was bisexual

 

I discovered I was bisexual during my senior year of high school: I was
watching a movie in which a female character took off some of her
clothes in an obvious sexual situation and I found myself getting turned
on. I guess I can credit my lack of panic to the fact that I was well
read. Even though I wasn’t a participant in the 60s sexual revolution,
it provided plenty of reading material: I had read about lesbianism and
bisexuality. Since it had always been guys that I had crushes on and
who turned me on, I never feared for a moment that I might be lesbian.
And another product of the 60s revolution was an increased tolerance and
even approving attitude toward lesbianism and female bisexuality
(obviously, prejudice didn’t disappear, but there was a noticeable
increase in tolerance–and prurient interest). I suppose my attitudes
were shaped more by what was being written than by my friends in high-
school, who would have been shocked even if many were more experienced
than I was.

But I’ll never “consummate” my bisexuality: I’m strictly monogamous.
But I did have an experience of sorts once before I met my husband.
Some time after I started working after college, my best friend and I
had been drinking and we got to talking about a movie that had a
bisexual scene. One thing led to another and we decided to try a kiss.
After kissing for a while, I unbuttoned her blouse and started feeling
her breasts. She doesn’t have large breasts but tends to be very
slender and is very attractive. Then I started kissing one of her
nipples while I caressed her other nipple with my fingers. She combed
my hair with her fingers and caressed the sides of my head. Then I
started to undo her pants–but she stopped me. She got dressed and
left, but at the door she did give me one more kiss. A real kiss too.
And that was it: we never tried anything since–I still see her once in
a while, particularly at work, though our lives are quite separate now.

My daughter’s college has a really nice out-door swimming pool. I
know because I came up to visit her one weekend during summer
session and got the chance to swim in it. Of course the hot, sunny
weather had a lot to do with how nice my swim was. Cathy had a
Saturday-afternoon practice for perspective cheerleaders and
suggested that I take a swim while I wait for her. And as I implied,
it was lovely–I swam a bit and laid out a bit and generally did
nothing in the sun.

It was afterwards when I returned to her dorm room that I was in
for a surprise. I had just showered and had returned to her room
when the door opened, right when I was completely undressed! It
was Cathy’s roommate Lillian. And she had some other girls with
her!

To say I was embarrassed would be an understatement, but I made
myself calmly move to get a robe. I didn’t say anything, not trusting
my voice. It was very strange to be walking around a room with four
college girls standing there, completely dressed.

“Oh, hi, I guess we caught you at an awkward moment.” It was
Lillian. I glanced at her and she and the other girls were just
standing there looking at me! At least they had shut the door! They
were smiling as if it were a little joke. I reminded myself that it
*is* a little humorous to be caught in a little embarrassment. Or
it’s better if you can treat it like that.

“Hi,” I answered. My voice wasn’t completely confident though. I
wish I had better control. “Just a minute,” I added. I looked around
for my robe and didn’t see it! I felt a panic inside me. I looked some
more. It was like a dream.

“Please don’t mind us, we’ve certainly seen it all,” said Lillian. One
of the other girls giggled a little bit. I finally grabbed a towel and
wrapped it around myself. I felt like such a fool, grabbing it so
quickly like that, as if I were afraid of them.

“In fact,” Lillian went on, “you really don’t have any reason to be
embarrassed about your body–it’s really quite something.” I guess
my body is OK, but nothing like those college girls. I stood there, in
the towel, not knowing what to do next. The girls didn’t leave. “Have
you ever had yourself photographed?” asked Lillian.

“No,” I answered. It didn’t come out either indignant or even just
confident. I still sounded nervous. I could kill myself.

“Well, you should. You’re body is absolutely beautiful.” She paused
and I didn’t have a reply. Then she went on: “Why don’t you let me
take a picture and show you.”

“I…, I don’t think so.”

“Oh, I have a Poloroid camera. I’ll just take a shot and give it to you,
so you can see for yourself.” I thought about it: *a woman is asking
me to pose nude for a picture*. It was too absurd.

“I wouldn’t feel comfortable.”

“There is nothing to feel uncomfortable about,” she answered, “just
one picture… you can keep it as long as you like and tear it up any
time you feel like it.”

“Yes, there’s really nothing to worry about,” said one of the other
girls. Then they were all telling me I should just try it for kicks–
one little photo. They asked me if I wasn’t curious what I would look
like and went on and on.

I don’t know *what* made me agree to it. It seemed harmless–one
little photo to look at–then to lock up or burn. Lillian produced a
camera and told me to stand by the dresser and posed me. She had
me lean against the dresser, supporting myself with my elbow and
forearm on the dresser, my feet crossed. It was a poloroid camera.
She wanted me to smile and look natural. I did my best.

The picture. Someone had grabbed it and run out the door. “Hey!” was
all I could get out. Lillian pulled the door shut.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll give it to you.” She left with the
other girls. I sat down, my heart in my throat. Nude, sitting on the
bed. What was I going to do? What were *they* going to do? I
pulled myself together and got dressed.

Cathy came back in about fifteen minutes. I had been pacing the
room for most of the time. I’m not really a pacer either. Would they
show it to Cathy? Would they ruin me? Would the whole place see
Cathy’s mother? I couldn’t tell her about it. How could I be so
stupid? Cathy noticed I was nervous, but didn’t say anything. She
seemed to want to bring me out of it. We talked about going out to
eat. Lillian came back in the room. She was smiling. I didn’t know
what to do–go hit her? Say something? Avoid her? She walked
over to me and slipped the picture into my hand. I got it into my
purse without Cathy noticing.

The next day, before I was left, I was alone with Lillian very briefly.
“What did you do with it?” I asked, in a forceful whisper. She didn’t
answer but just smiled. “Did you copy it?”

“I just wanted a chance to see it before giving it up,” she said
innocently.

“Did you copy it?” I repeated.

“It doesn’t have a negative,” she replied. Cathy came back and that
was my last chance to talk to her.

I put it in my dresser, under my clothes. I could burn it any time–it
was safe for now. I looked at it occasionally. My vanity, at my age-
-the picture was not too bad. I asked a guy I know if Poloroid
pictures can be copied.

“Sure they can.”

“But there isn’t a negative!” I blurted. He looked at me briefly,
wonderingly.

“Well, it isn’t as good quality as if you had a negative. Basically, you
take a picture of the picture. Poloroids aren’t too great in quality to
begin with and the copy can be pretty close if you have good
equipment designed for the job, but otherwise, will be noticeably
worse.”

I wasn’t reassured by this conversation. It’s amazing how much of
my time went into thinking about Lillian and that picture. My
daydreaming time. She *must* have a copy! Who did she show it to?
Cathy hadn’t mentioned anything on the phone.

Cathy came home after the last summer session and brought Lillian
with her. She didn’t even ask first, but then I encourage her to
consider our house hers as well as mine. I stared at Lillian, though I
tried to act normal. I thought I saw her smile at me. FInally, I was
alone with her, the second day.

“You copied the picture, didn’t you?”

“I told you–it’s a Poloroid–no negative.”

“I asked about that. You copied it, didn’t you?”

“Well… you see, photography is my hobby and that’s what I do: take
nude pictures.” That was a *yes*! I had *known* it but I still felt
weak in the knees.

“Who… sees your pictures?” My voice was weaker.

“Well, I don’t show them to every guy I see or anything like that,”
Lillian said, “Just people who are genuinely interested… mostly
other photographers.” It was seeming OK. “Would you like to see
them?” I thought about it. It was surprising to think of Lillian as a
photographer. Seeing them would tell me how seriously she took it.

“OK.” She looked around. Cathy wasn’t around and wouldn’t be back
for a while. I think it was instinctive for her to look over her
shoulder. Then she went to the bedroom she was using, and came
back with a photo album. She sat on the couch and I sat next to her.
She opened the cover.

The very first page was one picture, about 5 by 7 of a fantastically
beautiful girl, probably college aged. I was astounded–she looked
like a model! She had dark hair that spread over her shoulders and
was standing facing the camera with one leg raised and on an
ottoman and a hand resting on its thigh. Her legs were completely
spread. Her breasts were astounding.

I had looked at the little picture of me, and I guess it had made me
more familiar with my own body. I was a positive dowd next to this
girl. I stared.

“You like it?”

“You did a good job.” What could I say? She giggled a little.

The next picture was a blond lying on a bed. The picture didn’t show
anything except some skin and a little of her rear, but it was
obviously an alluring pose. I felt a little nervous, for some reason.

“I like taking erotic pictures.” Oh.

The next page had several pictures, all of the same girl, and when
she said erotic, she meant it! Some of them she was dressed and
looked very ordinary, in some she was nude, and in some, she was
obviously masturbating!

The next page had a guy! He was dressed in only a t-shirt, which his
chest filled out beautifully, and was standing there, looking at the
camera, nude from the waste down, his cock hard and level! She
giggled. “What do you think?” He was cute too. I didn’t answer and
she giggled again and turned the page.

I couldn’t believe the pages that followed. All had lots of pictures,
each page dedicated to a different person. Not all the pictures were
solo though: the featured girl was sometimes shown in sex acts with
guys (intercourse in lots of positions, oral sex both ways, being
fingered, or fingering a guy). Some of the pictures showed guys or
girls tied up! And the featured girl with two or more guys! And with
another girl! And a guy being done in the rear by another guy!

Then there as a page with Cathy! One picture of her playing tennis,
and one of her in the dorm room in *exactly* the same pose that I
was in! And *other* pictures! In one, a profile, she was nude,
kneeling, with her hands behind her neck. In another, she was
sucking a guy’s cock! She was kneeling and nude and he was dressed.
And in another, three clothed girls were standing over her and she
was on hands and knees. And another had one girl holding her by a
band around her neck while another one used a *whip* on her rear!
Her hands were handcuffed behind her! I couldn’t believe it! And in
another, she was licking a woman, in fact, there were several like
that!

I flipped through some more pages. More and more.

“Where am *I*?” I asked, my voice drained. She flipped over to a
page with just one small picture.

“I need more,” she said. I gulped. I knew she was going to have them.