Tag: bisexual

I have always appreciated the sex appeal of an older woman. There are plenty of reasons why “MILF,” “mature” and “cougar” are such popular terms in porn, but I never really understood it until her.

When she walked in the door, it was like my first crush all over again. Butterflies in my tummy, my face turning pink and I suddenly didn’t know where to look or how to talk. Her outfit would have seemed plain if it weren’t for the ripe, hourglass figure it clung to. Her jeans were low around her hips, which could have been literally child-bearing. Across the small of her back was a faded, skimpy tattoo, the remnants of an impulsive youth. Her cropped band tee wasn’t designer ‘vintage,’ just concert merch from her 20’s. She seemed like a snapshot of sex appeal from years gone by, like meeting Stacy’s Mom.

Despite whatever skin-care routine that kept her skin so soft, her charming smile lines hinted at years of pleasure & laughter. From that first moment, she radiated warmth and I’m quite sure she could seduce a nun if she wanted to. At first, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be her or be with her, but I’m confident now it’s both. Most of the women I meet in this industry are in their 20s or 30s so to see someone who was old enough to be my mother was unusual, let alone a woman so magnetic.

She was touring for one of the busiest events, so we were sleeping two to a room. As fate would have it, I ended up bunking with her. We were both ready to fall into bed after a long night but had time to chat about our schedules. I was impressed but not really surprised by how many clients were already booked in to see her. She said that being a ‘mature’ woman in this job meant more social dates than parties but it certainly didn’t mean any less fun.

“There are always new tricks to learn, and you should see the things I’ve learnt to do,” she said with a chuckle. I was captivated by her passion, her warmth, and even her perfume left me craving more.

The next day was a whirlwind of hairspray and glitter as we all rushed to get ready. Suddenly, she appeared beside me and laid her hand on my bare shoulder.

“Hey hun, you do overnights, right?” she asked.

I nodded.

“And what about bi-doubles?”

I nodded again and she smiled.

“That guy we spoke about last night, he has decided he wants a double and you’ll never guess who he wants to see me with,” she says with a flirty grin.

There was no containing my excitement for that evening. The perfect opportunity to explore this new-found attraction had just fallen into my lap. Maybe it was her years of experience in all things pleasure or the undeniable chemistry between us, but I still haven’t found anyone who can make me feel the way she did. 

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One of my first real dates was with a girl who gave me butterflies. What caught my attention first wasn’t her oh-so-pretty face (though I’ll never forget that cheeky smirk), it was the brightly coloured pants that only she could pull off so well. The softly ribbed texture of corduroy still sends shivers down my spine, but that’s neither here nor there. We went to different schools and were a year or two apart in age but had crossed paths and hit it off. She was so unashamedly herself and I was utterly smitten.

I was young and, although I never would have admitted it then, naive. She had done things I had never even heard of and it made my heart race. I learnt a great deal on our dates. She taught me about sub-drop and aftercare, and what to look out for when seeking a dom/domme. We talked about impact play and sensitivity and bruises. It was sitting in a park that I first learnt about squirting, and I blushed like never before when she suggested a more hands-on approach.

While I can thank her for so my introduction to the kink and BDSM scene, she taught me a far more valuable lesson too. The dates she took me on set the standard so high for all future dates. She treated me like a princess and I had the time of my life doing practically nothing. I learnt how I should be treated and reminded that a date wasn’t an agreement to hook up at the end. Neither of us was looking for something serious but I never felt like a cheap fling to her either. To this day, I have held all of my dates to the standards she set. I am so grateful for her kindess.

Wherever she is now, I send my appreciation and admiration. I hope she is having fun and still rocking those stunning corduroy pants.

There are a few unspoken agreements in the ladies’ bathroom, particularly at clubs; everyone looks stunning, no one should go to the bathroom alone and never, ever let someone text their ex. Most men underestimate the comradery we girls find as we touch up our makeup in the speckled mirror.

I went out on the town the day after a messy break-up. Long story short, myself and another lady learned we had been dating the same guy. He hooked up with yet another girl and she realised he was in not one, but two relationships. I didn’t know who else he had been two-timing, and I was just looking for a distraction. It was while I rinsed the taste of cheap whiskey out of my mouth that I heard someone crying. Of course, Girl Code means I have to check in on them. For the sake of this story, let’s call her Annie.

We had a few mutual friends, so she wasn’t a complete stranger. I invited her out to a booth in the club and we talked. Through hiccups, she told me how she risked her job dating a guy who then cheated. Even with her mascara running down her cheek, I was captivated. She was so sweet and pretty. I empathised with her and told her how angry I was at my ex too. I wish I had put the pieces together sooner but it took us quite a while before we realised we were talking about the same guy. Fuelled by emotion (and whatever that charming blue cocktail was), it wasn’t long before Annie’s mascara was smudged against my face too.

There are few things as passionate as mutual heartache and we spent the night proving we didn’t need him. I’ll never forget the way she leaned into me and whispered “You’re so much better than him” as I felt her quiver beneath my fingertips.