Chameleon ch.2

Teacher was never in a rush. Pushing was counter productive. As much as some of her students tantalize her, they were not here for her pleasure. She was here to help them find their way, to discover for themselves their sexual path. This one made her hungry. She had raw untapped sexuality just under the surface.

Her student was barely holding it in. Proper was the word that rang in her ears. When teacher had her change clothes she nearly lost control. Just the brush of fingers on her bare skin made her sex ache and pulse, and moisten. She was sure her excitement could be smelled. It frightened her but made her only want more.

Absent mindedly the students fingers brushed back and forth across her chest. It sparked nerve endings that set off a fire storm in her body. She No longer heard the words Teacher spoke. Her eyes willed the buttons that strained under Teachers full bust to burst open. She silently licked her lips as she watched Teachers red pump dangle from perfectly manicured toes.

Teacher watched her student as they spoke. Her words and body no longer in sync. It was clear that the time has come. Learning forward caused her button to finally surrender to the pressure. The pop caused both to laugh, easing the silent tension. Taking her students hands in hers she looked into her eyes and asked” do you want to touch me?”

As she exhaled the deepest sigh ever,the student felt the release of fear and whispered “yes please”. Easing closer together on the couch,her student reached up and traced the outline of her teachers face. Her eyes questioned her own movements, she was uncertain, she begged for directions.

Being the wise teacher she could read her students eyes, feel the uncertain hunger in her touch. It was time to show her the path and nudge her when necessary. Lifting her chin she gently kissed her students perfectly pouting lips. Gentle at first, letting the hunger rise with each touch. She did not lead the pace but let her pupil unknowingly take the lead. Her roll was not to direct but be a safe place for her student to explore.

Kissing led to tentative touching. Fingertips set on fire with desire. Which allowed her student to slide past her mental block and fall headlong into her deep hidden carnal desires. No words were needed. Permission had already been granted for her pupil to go wherever her passion took them.

Undressing was soft and slow, allowing each to explore. It was the first time her student had not only seen but been able to touch another woman. She did not want to miss anything. She kissed and licked and sucked at her teachers breasts. They were soft and heavy in her hands. So entranced by them she almost did not want to move on. Once naked her teacher made her stop and stand naked in front of the mirror. You need to see your beauty, her teacher said. Above all else know your value. This is your flesh to use as you wish. It is not an idle playground. But you are a temple to worship whether you share yourself with a man or woman. As she stood there She saw her beauty, she felt the power she held, and in that moment she became herself.

Turning the student took the lead, placing one hand behind the teachers waist and the other in the soft wetness of her teachers cunt. Her fingers sliding in and out of her mound. She felt powerful as the moans of want escaped teachers lips. She led her to the couch and once there began licking gently at the wet pulsing pussy before her. It was tentative to begin,but soon she was lost in the aroma and taste. She did not want to quit, but teacher new better. Your turn my dear was her directive. She started to panic,no one had ever touched her much less licked her. Her body betrayed her completely as teachers tongue skilfully tasted her. In an instant she came. Her body rolling with pleasure and shame. Her head trying to take from her the joy of her first lesbian orgasm. Tears escaped as she felt shame at her own desire.

Teacher scooped her into her arms and held her. Letting her ride the emotions. Here you were encouraged to feel everything so you made educated choices. As her tears subsided teacher asked,”do you wish to continue?” “Again please” was the answer.

The night rolled into one orgasm after another as her student gave and received. Each one teaching her more about her own body and what felt good and what she did not enjoy. It gave her words to go with her desire. It gave her power because knowledge is power. Eventually exhausted, teacher dressed her student and called her a taxi. As they waited they talked about the possibility of future lessons. But teacher encouraged her to find like minded friends and to embrace what ever sexual choices she felt moved by. Kissing her goodby she smiled because she had just witnessed the birth of a woman.

Lessons will follow. I am not a writer. I am a story teller. So please excuse the errors. I am not hung up on perfection. Nothing in life is….

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Being a sexual chameleon

Damn, she sighed, why am I even awake? After last night I should be sound asleep until at least noon. She smiled thinking about the night before. Her job was, far from normal. It was not what her family might have chosen for her, in fact if they knew they would lose their minds, but she loved it.

It took some time for her to find her to calling. After years of a discontented marriage, a career that she loved but was ready to walk away from, and finally becoming comfortable in her own skin she realized something. She likes sex! No this was not a surprise. She had always liked sex but she had also always had this fascination with roleplay. The older she got the more she realized that everyone had that something that made them tick. That thing that made their engine rev like nothing else. It had started out innocently enough she read tons of stories she played with a few friends mostly she was navigating herself trying on different personas to see what stuck. She knew that honestly she what’s a cock sucker okay maybe a pussy licker to but she loved giving oral like nothing else. it literally caused her body to stream like a fountain and whatever was underneath her was going to have a puddle.

After some time and great word of mouth she began to accumulate quite a following. She hated the word client. It sounded so formal. What happened here was an exploration of one’s sexual self. She helped people explore and find their own sexual self.

Everyone was different. Some were dominant, others submissive. There were pets, babies,cos players. Players, and virgins. Some wanted to explore bisexuality, anal play or bondage. Her favorite were the couple’s exploring the art of sharing. It always amazed her how little people really new about their own sexual desires. And how hard they found it to talk about what they wanted. And yet she knew that there was a difference between sex during exploration and the sexual connectivity with that someone special. Even she lost her words with her King. Her desire was to please him. Often she felt she fell short. Ugh… Helping others explore was always easier. She lost herself in the play. Becoming what they needed seemed easy. It was exhilarating to dive into conversation with a client, to pick out what they would not admit to, but secretly wanted. To help them find their words and to then put it into action. To perform their desires like a passion play. She became a sexual chameleon, morphing into what ever was needed.

Last night had been long and slow. A younger woman who had never been active and was torn with lesbian cravings. Her body was at war with her clerical upbringing. They talked for hours about faith and desire. About finding one’s own space and peace. She had chosen her outfit with great care. A pencil skirt, classic red pumps, and a silk button down blouse. Authoritative with an edge. Her bust strained at the buttons. Red lace bra peaked out and matched her cheeky boy short lace panties. They were soft to the touch and created hunger to the eyes. Her young client was clearly uncomfortable in her own skin as she wore leggings, slip on shoes and a shapeless sweater. Nothing about her screamed sex, it did not even whisper. A visit to the closet was step one. Favorite colors found. Fabrics that enticed her fingertips. A short shift dress that grazed a soft thigh, and a deeply v’d neck line that showed the full upper curve of pert young breasts. Bare feet and an ankle chain were the perfect combination. Innocent but flirty.

The teacher and student taking each step as it came. Clothes, hair, makeup,perfume,how to walk and sit. How to listen with interest when someone spoke. Learning to lean in, the magic of a properly timed touch. It is true that some of it was not necessary, but they were painting a canvas, setting the scene for her young student. A place where she felt comfortable and confident. Where she could let herself feel rather than think.

There was more to come. Just what? I guess you will have to check back in to see.

red lipstick

She stood in  front of the bathroom mirror, an array of makeup in front of her. Most days she looked in that mirror and thought, Not bad for an old broad. some days she was grateful for the war paint, for it covered a multitude. Today was weird, she was stuck somewhere in between. The black dress hugged her every curve, heels in a height appropriate for work adorned her feet. the makeup was good, and the hair was rocking. Today only a few specks of grey showed reminding her she was not 20, but she was not dead either.

Looking in the mirror she kept hunting for that thing to make her sparkle today, she smiled and knew exactly what it was, red lipstick. Now to find the right shade, the one to decide if she was a goddess or if she was the wicked woman on the street corner. She had them all. picking her way through each tube she was waiting for inspiration.

Finally she found it, blood red, as if you had just severed an artery and watched it pool on the floor.The color of life, strength, power and lust. She put it on slowly, delibertly.

Looking up in the mirror at the full effect the smiled. Soft chocolate color on the eyes, a hint of pink on her cheeks, soflty smoothing away the years. But those lips… The smile that went from sweet an innocent to wicked and naughty. She caught herself biting her lip and wondering how may times through the day would someone have their own private thought about those red lips. How many men would wonder what they tasted like, or what they would look like wrapped around his cock. Or how many women would wonder if the red of her lipstick would tint the lips of her pussy as she licked it.

She knew that in life you were either someones cup of tea or not. Today she wanted to be someones Jack and coke. Better yet someones Crown on the rocks. That sweet slow burn that made you feel alive. Just one more glance in the mirror. Those red lips.. they look so much better when you smile, so she did. And with that she went off into the world. Her head held high, a sway in her hips as she walked and the slight glint of a dare in her eyes.

Where did she go?

Life gets in the way, the every day of it all. Trust me when i say i love my life. It is filled to the brim with goodness, but i think my sex goddess is in hibernation.

I try every day to look good. there are no sweat pants and baggy t shirts. Parfume and makeup are in attendance often. I have cute under clothes and they do not just live in the drawer. But i fear that my dirty girl fire is missing, not missing just not sparked. I have not written in some time. I watch porn on occasion and think ” that was nice” and then go back to the dishes. I haven’t read any erotica in some time. I need that sexual energy boost in the worst way. I fear that my lack of fire is killing my ability to entice my man. We are just different and i wonder if it is me. Did i just become Martha Stewart. Where is my inner porn star? Another birthday is around the corner and 48 sounds old to me for some reason. I cant keep enough color on my grey hair. Hell i ordered bifocals to go in my fishing gear for god’s sake.

I know it is all just in my head. I know that i am loved but i fear that i am not always desired. Lord knows that we have the busiest lives and that things happen but i have a hard time shaking the ever nagging fear that…..

time to breath deep and sort this shit out because i want to be wanted and if i cant get past the blockage in my own brain then there is no way he can get past it either.

 

Life, love and the fear of losing

The mental battles are the worst. Life itself can be great and one little thing will set you off down a dark path that you know does not belong in your current life. Old shit is not new shit and should not be there, but.

Lord knows i have intimacy issues. I also have self worth issues and compliments are still hard for me to simply accept. So toss in life in general and the fact that i am battling my value as a parent and it does not take much for my self esteem and worth to be a little challenged. Take a few days without the physical and my mental goes to shit. I start wondering if i have done something wrong or if reality, old life shit, has finally reared it’s ugly head.  I share a healthy fantasy life with my King but in those moments of self doubt i wonder if he would be better off with someone else. There are times when i wish i could just put his fantasy in his bed and then i would know if it’s just fantasy or if there is something deeper.

Basically i live in a state of constant self bout that is fueled by fear. Not so much fear but preparation. If you prepare for the worst it does not hurt so much when it happens.  Living like this is not healthy. It will destroy me and my happiness and those i love if i can not get it under control and find a way to not be afraid. My world is small, those in it are important to me. I fear loss and of the day when you are no longer loved and easily replaced. It sucks when you live like this and the man in your life has to constantly battle that. It wears them down and eventually they don’t want to fight your old shit any more. So i know that if it all dies it’s my own fault. Lord help me find my inner peace because  i do not know if i could take losing the love i have now. It would be the end of me.

I feel pretty

I say that and laugh because it sounds so silly. But it is true. I never felt pretty. I have had moments when i have felt sexy as fuck. But to just feel pretty….

I grew up hearing my mom say ” you could  be so pretty if only…” usually it was about my weight. And as an adult looking back i was not fat, i just wasn’t a size 5. I had womanly curves as a teen. But it was and still is not the STANDARD for beauty.

As a married woman, the first trip around, my ex never told me i was pretty. He would tell me i looked nice. But that is far from a declaration of beauty to your spouse.

My King tells me i am beautiful, and i have begun to feel it more and more. But he loves me and i should be pretty in his eyes. And because he is a good man it is his duty to tell me that often. And trust me he does. There have been moments lately where i have heard other men tell my husband that he has a beautiful wife. Those have left me stunned. As a plus size woman, hell as a woman, you never expect random strangers to see you, much less see you as attractive. That is just not something that ever happened in my world. But it has and every time it does i feel two things. Pride in myself and proud because it is a gift i can give my husband. That others would acknowledge and tell him. I hope that it makes him proud to have me as his wife.

So even today with my hair showing its grey roots i have looked in the mirror and smiled at the reflection there and  said ” Hello pretty lady” and meant it.

Hello 2017

This morning i had so much to say. My body and my mind are a minefield at the moment. Physically i feel battered. My joints ache like crazy, my heart hurts because my child is still shutting me out. I wept on my drive in because i felt beaten by things out of my control. I went to work like a responsible adult and hours later my body still hurts and my heart still weeps, but i am choosing Happiness.

It has been my constant mantra since the new year. I have been blessed in so many ways. I refuse to live unhappy. I will not let presumed guilt beat me. I will not cave to someone else’s  misery. 2016 held so many lessons and the one i learned above all else is i have no control over anything in this world except for my own responses to life. And i choose JOY, I choose Happiness, I choose TRust and Faith and Goodness even in the face of adversity and bitterness and anger and I choose LOVE.

Never have i felt love like this. It is more than just the love of my King, but of family and friends and of SELF. Yes i said SELF. I can look in the mirror and say with certianty that i love myself. I do not look at the age that is showing as a bad thing. I see wisdom of years. I do not curse the softness around my middle but know that it is there because i brought life into this world. Life that, despite the current situation, is good and will make the world a better place because her heart is golden.  I see grey hair and thank god for hair color. I am not ready to face those genetics yet. I can not see things close up without glasses but i am grateful that i have those darn things so that i can continue making the world a prettier place one head of hair at a time.

Life is good if you let it be. Set backs happen. But as long as we have breath in our lungs we have a choice and a chance to make our world better. So breath and do and be your best self in this moment. The next moment is another choice. Make it a good one.

in my skin

my face denies my age

but my hands rat me out

it is still soft and smooth to the touch

but more and more i see the fine lines of time

some days i feel confined in it

as if i am trapped here on this mortal plane

i know that my body can not roam the places my  mind goes

and yet if i could only escape my skin i just might make it

i look at my hands and wonder who they belong to

and then i see the marks and scars of this life and smile

these are my markers of time, these are my constant companions

This is where my age and wisdom live

in the crimson colored finger nails made so by last nights clients hair color

in the scars from one scared and rescued puppy

in the marks left from shears that cut me instead of one wiggly child after another

in the broken nail from a weekend of hard labor hauling fire wood for winter warmth

my hands also carry my wedding ring the beautiful reminder of second chances and of love

It is true that some days i wish i could shed my skin and become someone else

someone who has not lived the harsh realities of my past

someone who has less marks and less age

but i am reminded that it is not my skin that holds these things but my mind

and there in lies the rub

I dare not forget lest i repeat the past and that is my greatest fear

That in time i will once again  lose all that i hold dear

That my skin will no longer feel the soft touch of loving hands

That my heart will no longer know love

That my ears will no longer hear laughter and

That My eyes will no longer see the beauty of this life

So i honor my memories and all of the lessons of my life

And i embrace the age on my skin and pray that i will always know the love i now cherish

self confidence

Today i find myself wondering if it is something you just have or not? Is it something you can build within yourself and if so does it come from within or does it come from the admiration of others?

I have always lacked it. I grew up hearing “you could be so pretty, if only” Lord knows there were plenty of “if only things”

I have had it when it came to my career, but personally it is something i lack. I have had moments of it. But upon reflection those moments were when i was living a fantasy life and was constantly being told how sexy and lovely and wonderful i was. But was it real or only lines in a play?  I loved how those moments felt and i know i carried myself differently in those moments. But i am not in that space. I am happier now than i was in those days but i do find myself looking in the mirror and find myself lacking. I do not want that view of myself. I want to be bold and daring and confident.

So i am trying to focus on my own self worth and not my value as seen through the eyes of others. I want to walk into a room like some kind of wild life force and have people drawn to me. Not simply because i am sweet and kind and giving, but because i am vibrant and beautiful and dynamic. It all sounds very superficial and that makes me gag. But i am after all just a girl and i do not know of any woman who has not felt the same.

We all want to be smart and pretty. We want to be known as the good and kind and loving and giving one, with the knock out looks and the wicked smile and ” those eyes”.

I am working on it. And who knows, maybe one day i will be fully self confident in my own skin. One day, one breath, one moment at a time.

Mirror

Today you are not my friend. I stand in front of you and gaze at the reflection i see. I do not look my age, that in itself should be enough. But it is not. I see what i have always seen. 5’3″ of chunky.  Which is funny because my jeans are obviously too big these days. My eyes are dull today. They are missing that spark. My fire is barely a coal cooling at the edge of the fire pit. I fear i have become a stagnant and boring piece of the environment. I do not see sexy or beautiful even though i hear the words. I do see the kitchen bitch with dish pan hands. I see the laundry diva, the expert floor mopper,the feeder of dogs and humans alike. I battle the thing i fear. That the mundane of every day life takes over and that the rush of human desire fades into the back ground. I do not want to be as invisible as the paint on the walls. I have put forth the effort to look the part. I have gone home at the end of a long day and put on something “cute” while cooking dinner. I have played the message game. Photos and texts. But at the end of it all i am blinding aware that it doesn’t matter. Life and all of it’s harsh reality is what comes out ahead. I will find a pair of rose colored glasses and look at myself though them. I will adjust my expectations and know that i love differently. And i will find peace and solace in the knowledge that i am loved and that for him every plate is a testament to that love. I will look into the mirror and know that the truth is not in the reflection i see, but in what fills my heart. And that will have to be enough.