A Trip Down Memory Lane

Susanna let out a long sigh and shook her head, damp brown hair falling into her eyes as she looked at the terracotta pot on the windowsill. The seedlings inside were wilted; their tiny, delicate leaves curled in a mockery of her tender care. She brushed the hair out of her eyes slowly and rubbed one hand across them, defeated. Plants just did not like her, she thought as she drifted out of the kitchen and went back to her computer.

Sue's husband snored upstairs. He worked night shift, which didn't bother her most of the time, but every so often there were mornings she wished he was awake and could cheer her up. Being the only person awake in the house, she got bored... and boredom usually meant masturbation. She considered her collection of toys, smiling at the achievement of sexual freedom after so many years of shyness, blushing and running from her sexual needs.

Although she had always been shy and quiet, she wasn't always the good girl people expected. Her straight, mouse-brown hair, coke-bottle glasses (now much thinner, thanks to polycarbonate lenses!), and modest clothing gave the impression of a polite, utterly restrained young woman and her demeanor around strangers and co-workers certainly told the same tale. She was smart, and imaginative, and utterly straight-laced. Or so they thought... if only they knew.

When Susanna was younger she liked to play out little scenes in her imagination. Mostly they were the kinds of things every girl imagines: tossing her head in the wind as her gorgeous palomino mare rocked across an open grassland; the mysterious dark-haired man who would catch up to her on his wild bay stallion and ride laughing alongside. Princes and castles and sometimes even babies. She also liked to imagine other things, though. The strange dark man who took her away from her loving Prince, tied her up and forced himself upon her; the feeling of his rough, bruising kisses and the silk ropes twisting against her wrists. Sometimes alone she acted it out.

Of course, those daydreams didn't last. She got more self-conscious she stopped thinking about it, out of fear that she would be caught some day and have to explain. When she was very young her father had caught her under the bed with the neighbor boy, exploring each other's genitals. After that, he instituted the rule that she had to leave her bedroom door open; a rule that she broke often but only when he could not hear it close quietly behind her. She was scared of being caught again. She still fantasized, but only in the still hours when the house was asleep and she could whisper to the dark: "Ooh, let me go."

In high school her parents split and her mother moved, taking Sue and her sisters to a new town. Sue fell in with a group of girls who, like her, were less innocent than they looked. Years of exploring their sexuality through solo fantasy were released in giggling sessions at the lunch table, discussing their ideal man, writing horrible stories about sex and wondering about pregnancy.

None of them had boyfriends; Sue was the first to find one at 16. They met online; he lived in Canada. He introduced her to cybersex and she would sneak down to the computer after everyone had gone to bed, sharing fantasies of bondage with him. They would role play, Sue blushing and praying no one woke up for a glass of water as she tried to write descriptions of what she would do to him with no real experience and only an anatomical understanding of sex. They came out in pidgin, a mixture of clinical accuracy and rough slang that surprised her and made him groan with lust anyway. She always deleted the chat logs when they were done, and crept to bed with a tingling in her groin and a pit in her stomach. She knew that Tony masturbated to their late-night sessions. She had not ever masturbated; she had become afraid of it, unsure of its right-ness. She wasn't sure how.

One day it was too much. Curiosity shoved fear out of the way and she touched her throbbing clit, wandered over her damp labia... then wondered what it would be like to have something inside her. She experimented with wild abandon at first – anything smooth and round was a candidate for play. Sobe bottles with their thick necks and flat lids were too hard, but filled her well. Hairbrushes, lotion bottles, candles. Nothing was good enough. She liked being filled, she discovered. She loved the feeling of something large pushing its way into her, forcing her cunt to stretch. She loved the pressure against her clit, the knowledge that she was fucking herself. Sometimes she angled a mirror so she could watch the smooth, round objects move in and out of her red, leaking pussy. She made her own soft but firm dildo out of a pair of old stockings, rolled tightly and tied at the bottom. It felt good, and she hid it under her mattress and used it when Tony called her one day, shutting her door and furtively tucking it under her panties, rocking on it as they talked. He told her dirty, wonderful things over the phone and she replied in whispers, praying no one heard.

Getting caught was both exciting and terrifying, and it fueled her imagination to further heights. She boldly walked naked in front of her windows one night, imagining that a stranger stood at the edge of the woods bordering their country home, and that his cock grew hard upon seeing her. She touched herself under the covers and thought about toys but was unable to get one, and so she learned to use her fingers and suck the sweet, thick juices off them quietly when she finished, so that no one would catch her in the bathroom. She liked the taste and wondered if other girls tasted the same. She watched them in the locker room out of the corner of her eye, imagining breasts and firm little nipples like gumdrops to suck and lick and tease. No one she knew was openly gay; she pretended not to notice the feelings she had. She did not admit her attraction to both sexes until college.

And oh, college. Those memories were fresh and raw still – the gasps and shudders of a friend as Sue's tongue explored her breasts, as her hands slipped hesitantly downward, past the belly button, under the jeans. The soft tangle of pubic hair and the new, unfamiliar folds of a pussy that was not hers, and the bucking of hips as her fingers slipped and slid through the wetness of this strange and exciting territory. It only happened once, but once was enough. She fantasized about both men and women now; she searched for gay porn and imagined threesomes with her boyfriend and another girl. And still occasionally she went back to her first fantasy – to being tied up, held down, and fucked.

The cat at her feet shifted and Sue came back to reality. Her pussy was throbbing, her stomach and breasts tingling. She was in her bathrobe; she slipped it off and went into the living room where the curtains were still shut, making it dark and private. Sue laid down on the couch, naked in the cool morning air. She thought about opening a curtain, but decided against it. She was hot enough, she didn't need play. She could feel the heat and moisture in her pussy and the anticipation of her long fingers entering that sacred, throbbing space. She wanted to cum, and she wanted to cum soon.

Quickly one hand went to her breasts, finding her small nipples already hardening with anticipation. She squeezed them roughly, pinched and tugged. They looked amazing, hard and dark on twin pale mounds. She lowered her mouth to her tiny, soft breasts and licked at the areola, brushed her lips over the little brown tips. She couldn't reach them to suck but she loved the feeling of her mouth on the sensitive skin, loved the feeling of the hard nub as she mouthed it gently, teasing herself. She imagined another woman's nipples, larger and firm in her mouth. The shuddering breath as she taunted each rich, sensitive tip, brushed hers over them, stroked them. Oh, yes.

She knew that she was wet. She loved teasing herself, waiting until she was dripping before sliding cool fingers between her hot folds. Her panties were slick and her fingers easily found her clit beneath the cotton fabric. She took a moment to breathe, feeling the heat of her pussy and the pressure of her fingers on her clit before removing her panties and sliding down farther on the couch.

She rubbed across her clit and down with the tip of one finger, gathering the fluids that leaked out between her swollen pussy lips so that her fingertip slid easily into a rhythm against the little nub. Her hips bucked and her other hand joined the first, pushing against her slick cunt.

One, two... her fingers entered her pussy easily and she fucked herself, moaning quietly. She thought of a partner, the sweet smell of sex on the woman's breath as they tangled, pleasuring with fingers, with whispers, with tongues. The buzzing warmth in her groin increased and she knew she would cum quickly.

Sue reached for her vibrator, eager for the hot, shuddering orgasm that awaited her. Next time she would play for a while; this time she wanted to scream. Her body's anticipation built, flooding her cheeks with heat as she turned the dial and slid it quickly between her legs, the juicy flesh parting easily. Her back arched expectantly toward the tingling caress of the shaft between her legs. The orgasm loomed; she did not have the will to tease herself away. She let go and it overpowered her. Her hips bucked toward the bullet vibrating against her clit and her pussy squeezed the fingers still inside, contracting with waves of pleasure which washed over her again and again until finally her breath slowed and the waves lapped quietly at her pussy lips, leaving her satisfied and buzzing pleasantly.

Upstairs, her husband snored and rolled over. Sue grinned and licked the sweet, sticky mess off her fingers. She felt better about the plants already.