Read Online Glitter. Real Stories About Sexual Desire From Real Women by Mona Darling, Lauren Fleming, Lynn Lacroix, Tizz Wall, Penny Barber, Hopper James, Elis Bradshaw, Delilah Night, Kate Anon, Nina Potts - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mona Darling, Lauren Fleming, Lynn Lacroix, Tizz Wall, Penny Barber, Hopper James, Elis Bradshaw, Delilah Night, Kate Anon, Nina Potts
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fling with another creative (great in bed) type and later a boring guy with the smallest dick I've experienced. I didn't like being with other people and sharing it with him. I went on to have a few other flings and keep them to myself but none of them were satisfying for long, I only felt dirty and often regretted getting married. I went on to gain & lose weight, become overall less sexual, and leave that life behind. Even up until a few years ago my husband would ask me to tell him stories from back then while we were having sex. It ruined sex for me and after being told numerous times how dirty it made me feel he stopped asking for the stories.
These days our sex life (or rather lack thereof thanks to parenting a small child) is just us, as ‘vanilla’ as can be.
The Fear
Lexie
I'm a dog walker by day, and a sexual deviant by night, although I've worn many different hats throughout the years. I live with my girlfriend of just over two years. I'm still trying to work out the sexual hiccups that come with being with someone faithfully for this long.
I came of age when I was eleven or twelve, about fifteen years ago. I remember being horrified when I had to tell my mom why I was late for the bus. I spent the entire day bleeding at school, wanting to crawl into a hole and die. That night I made her swear not to tell anyone. The next Christmas, I got a kaboodle filled with pads. Thanks, Mom. Four years later I lost my virginity and haven't stopped since.
I can’t tell you much about the first time I was with a woman, I was swept up in a blizzard of booze and thrown against a bathroom countertop. Shampoo and hair products rolling to the ground, my mind hazed over and the next day I was barely able to remember the night before. The only thing lingering and making it real was the slight soreness between my legs. Not to mention the recurring phrase “You have a beautiful pussy” playing on repeat in my head, in her voice.
I had this fear inside my chest. The kind of fear that would tighten and cause my pale skin to turn seven different shades of red if ever confronted with it. That fear? Women. More specifically, women that were gay.
It was the end of a toxic relationship, the culmination of four years of hell. I moved out of the apartment with barely any notice and left my then ex-boyfriend to deal with the shambles. I was free! With the end of any romantic entanglement, I was left to sort out my self-esteem and my sex drive that was now in shambles.
My new roommate was an openly gay woman, about eight years my senior, that I knew through work. I wasn’t attracted to her, but looked up to her strong attitude towards her sexuality. I needed to get that back in my life. I took a deep breath and told her to give her friend my number.
That previous Christmas I had met one of her best friends at our work’s Christmas party. I was there with my now ex, but the instant I met her my chest tightened and I couldn’t look her in the eyes. She was a bit shorter than me, even more so since I had three-inch wedges on. Her eyes were dark, only matched by her hair. When she smiled her face glowed and one small dimple graced her cheek.
Her name was Manny.
Within hours we had a date set for the very next day. My head was spinning. What was I doing? How would I face her? What if she tried to kiss me?
We picked a place that was right down the street from my work. A local hipster hangout that had pitchers of beer and a great vegan BLT. I took my time walking over, smoking enough cigarettes to make me look like a chimney. An amazing accomplishment considering it was a four-minute walk from my work.
I get to the café and see her standing outside next to her scooter. A little red thing with a black leather seat. She hugs me and says how great it is to see me. I smile, feeling my face turn red and my lungs turning black from all those damn cigarettes. I
These days our sex life (or rather lack thereof thanks to parenting a small child) is just us, as ‘vanilla’ as can be.
The Fear
Lexie
I'm a dog walker by day, and a sexual deviant by night, although I've worn many different hats throughout the years. I live with my girlfriend of just over two years. I'm still trying to work out the sexual hiccups that come with being with someone faithfully for this long.
I came of age when I was eleven or twelve, about fifteen years ago. I remember being horrified when I had to tell my mom why I was late for the bus. I spent the entire day bleeding at school, wanting to crawl into a hole and die. That night I made her swear not to tell anyone. The next Christmas, I got a kaboodle filled with pads. Thanks, Mom. Four years later I lost my virginity and haven't stopped since.
I can’t tell you much about the first time I was with a woman, I was swept up in a blizzard of booze and thrown against a bathroom countertop. Shampoo and hair products rolling to the ground, my mind hazed over and the next day I was barely able to remember the night before. The only thing lingering and making it real was the slight soreness between my legs. Not to mention the recurring phrase “You have a beautiful pussy” playing on repeat in my head, in her voice.
I had this fear inside my chest. The kind of fear that would tighten and cause my pale skin to turn seven different shades of red if ever confronted with it. That fear? Women. More specifically, women that were gay.
It was the end of a toxic relationship, the culmination of four years of hell. I moved out of the apartment with barely any notice and left my then ex-boyfriend to deal with the shambles. I was free! With the end of any romantic entanglement, I was left to sort out my self-esteem and my sex drive that was now in shambles.
My new roommate was an openly gay woman, about eight years my senior, that I knew through work. I wasn’t attracted to her, but looked up to her strong attitude towards her sexuality. I needed to get that back in my life. I took a deep breath and told her to give her friend my number.
That previous Christmas I had met one of her best friends at our work’s Christmas party. I was there with my now ex, but the instant I met her my chest tightened and I couldn’t look her in the eyes. She was a bit shorter than me, even more so since I had three-inch wedges on. Her eyes were dark, only matched by her hair. When she smiled her face glowed and one small dimple graced her cheek.
Her name was Manny.
Within hours we had a date set for the very next day. My head was spinning. What was I doing? How would I face her? What if she tried to kiss me?
We picked a place that was right down the street from my work. A local hipster hangout that had pitchers of beer and a great vegan BLT. I took my time walking over, smoking enough cigarettes to make me look like a chimney. An amazing accomplishment considering it was a four-minute walk from my work.
I get to the café and see her standing outside next to her scooter. A little red thing with a black leather seat. She hugs me and says how great it is to see me. I smile, feeling my face turn red and my lungs turning black from all those damn cigarettes. I
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