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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Plus One
by Secret DC Guy (secretdcguy@hotmail.com)
***
The nicest guy ever helps a high school lesbian get
exactly what she wants; the most beautiful girl in
school. However, it starts a journey that shows happy
endings do not always turn out the way you expect them
to. (ff-teens, FF, MF, 1st, rom)
***
Proms had to be the worst inventions the evil gods of
high school had ever created. Pimply faced, stinky
teenage boys sat around saying that they were taking
this hot girl from a different school only to come back
a week later and ask if somebody has a “friend”. Girls
spent months and hundreds of dollars trying to find just
the right dress. And for what? It was really nothing
more than another high school dance, just with the
mediocre dinner at the beginning. Oh, and if you were a
cool kid you might end up going to a pretty fun party
afterwards.
Of course, I wasn’t one of those cool kids. I was an 18-
year-old high school girl—a senior just like all the
other kids I knew. I was to the shorter side of normal,
but still average. I wasn’t skinny, or fat, or curvy, or
just about anything else that would make my body stand
out. My light brown hair was shoulder length and
straight—again nothing remarkable. I wasn’t good at
sports, or music, or drama. And of course, I carried a B
average. There really was nothing remarkable about me.
Well, that really was only partly true. There was one
thing that did set me off from the other girls—I was a
lesbian. Yes, I was a dyke, a carpet muncher, queer or
whatever else you want to call it. The fact is I went to
a small rural high school and I liked girls. I wasn’t
out, but there were rumors. That kind of thing happens
when you get caught checking out Caitlin Brooks, the
cheerleading captain, after gym class. Luckily, there
were only a few months left in my high school career.
After that, I was going away to a college in a city that
was hours away from this town.
So to me, the problem was really a nonevent. Nobody was
going to ask me. I was not going to ask anybody. And I
would not go. At least, that’s what my plan was. How
could I have predicted that the path to my happily ever
after started on prom night.
If there were one person that I would have gone to the
prom with, it would have been Caitlin Brooks. She was
perfect! Though possibly a little bit on the short side,
she was athletically slim with perky teenage breasts.
Her short blonde hair was so light that if you hadn’t
known her for her entire life you would think that it
was bleached. And she had the cutest freckles. She was
every teenage lesbian’s dream.
We had always been friendly, but were never friends.
However, as high school passed I began to feel some kind
of vibe from her. It was almost as if she could tell
that I would check her out discretely. Normally, when I
looked at her breasts or her behind, she would give me a
knowing smile as if it’s okay to do this.
However, I was busted one day after gym class. Caitlin
had looked especially beautiful that day and I was
positive she noticed I was checking her out. I actually
thought something might happen because strangely, she
opted to take a shower after gym class which few of the
girls did. I just stood around the locker room waiting
for everyone else to leave. I was one of those invisible
kids, so nobody would notice if I stayed, at least
that’s what I thought.
When I thought everybody was gone, I positioned myself
so I could look into the shower. Somewhat to my
surprise, Caitlin had positioned herself at the one
shower nozzle where from my angle I could look in and
see her. As she showered it seemed like she didn’t know
I was looking. That was strange, considering she seemed
to have a sixth sense for whenever I checked her out.
Watching her, I began to feel a tingling between my
legs. I had this often when I looked at her, but never
this intense. Not able to resist it, I unsnapped and
unzipped my jeans. I let my hand wonder down into my
panties, and I began to play with myself. Within a few
seconds I was lost in the feeling, though still staring
at Caitlin.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t kept track of everybody. One of
the girls who didn’t particularly like Caitlin, but
liked nothing more than bullying me had also stayed
behind. When she saw what I was doing, she yelled
“Dyke!” And ran out of the locker room. Caitlin looked
at me, and gave a sad shrug. Ashamed and scared, I
quickly grabbed my stuff and left the locker room.
Later that day, rumors were flying around. Vicki Jackson
was a lesbian, who had been masturbating while watching
the hottest girl in school take a shower. There were
comments, and even some pushing. At one point though a
bunch of boys were saying they were going to rape me to
turn me straight, Caitlin came walking up. Part of me
wanted her to tell everybody it was true but that it was
okay. But I also knew that wouldn’t help.
The prettiest girl in school, though, did something even
more helpful. She told the boys that she had seen me the
entire time lost in study. She said she had not seen my
pants down or me playing with myself. In fact, Caitlin
said that she was pretty sure I hadn’t even noticed her
until the bully said something. Quickly, it became a
‘she said, she said’, leaving everybody to decide if
they were going to believe Miss Perfect or some stoner.
So when prom time came, there were occasional jokes
about whether I was going to take a girl. There were
even comments about me not going because I was gay. But
in general, it was okay. There was only one thing that
bothered me, the big after party was going to be at
Caitlin’s parents’ house, and they would not be home. I
knew, though, that even if I were going, I would never
be invited to a cool kid party.
Kids choose to go to the prom for strange reasons
though. Some kids have a significant other they think
they will spend the rest of their lives with, while some
think it will be the last big time out before they go to
college and drift away. Some kids want to go with their
friends just so they can experience the night. I became
one of those rare cases who went to the prom because I
liked somebody other than the person asking me.
Dennis Michaels would have been out of my league even if
I was straight. He was the star baseball player who
everybody expected to have a shot at the major leagues.
In addition, he was one of the smartest kids in school.
But most of all, he was also one of the nicest guys,
generally liking everybody and acknowledging everybody’s
presence even mine. The thing that sold me on going to
the prom with him, though, was that he was close friends
with Caitlin.
It happened about a week before the prom. I was sitting
alone in the cafeteria, reading a romance novel. In
general, I hated them but I also knew that the straight
girls had started to read them. So essentially, I was
false advertising that I was just like them. Out of the
blue, Dennis came and sat in front of me. He explained
that his traveling baseball team was supposed to have an
away game that day. Unfortunately, it had been a very
wet winter and the field they were supposed to play at
was underwater.
As there was no way it would be ready in time, the game
had been canceled. He really wanted to go to the prom,
but at this point everybody he knew had a date. He
continued, saying that we had been in some classes
together and I seemed nice. He knew it was a long shot,
but he was wondering if I wanted to go as his friend.
All of a sudden, I had a date who could give me access
to Caitlin’s party. Strangely, he didn’t seem surprised
when I said yes right away.
I was able to borrow a dress that fit OK from one of my
cousins who lived nearby, and my date was able to get a
tuxedo in time. We didn’t match, and there weren’t any
of the other niceties like a limo or a corsage. Instead,
Dennis pick me up in his dad’s car and treated me like a
friend who he respected. He didn’t try to romance me,
but at the same time he didn’t try to talk to any other
girls. Most importantly, he didn’t try to do anything
physical. He was the perfect date for me.
The hardest part, though, was that we ended up sharing a
table with Caitlin and some of the other popular kids.
All of them seem to ignore me most of the time. Only
Caitlin, along with Dennis, would occasionally involve
me in the conversations. It was frustrating to be at a
table with my biggest crush, and have to there her with
some loser from the football team. Luckily, they weren’t
all over each other.
However, eventually the stress got to be too much. I
politely excused myself to the ladies room, but instead
of going there I went outside, found a quiet place, and
began to cry. I didn’t expect it when I heard a gentle
voice asked me if I was okay. In my wildest dreams, it
would have been Caitlin coming after me, but it wasn’t.
Instead, it was one of the guidance counselors, Miss
Abigail Morris. I tried to brush it off and say that I
was just overwhelmed by the number of people and the
fact that I was even there, as this is something that
normally I wouldn’t be involved in.
However, she could tell that I was lying and just simply
told me that she knew how frustrating things could be.
She didn’t say what she was referring to, but I knew. We
sat in silence for a few minutes enjoying the warm humid
spring air. Then when I had regained my composure, she
helped me to my feet. With a tender smile, she looked me
straight in the eyes and told me, “it gets better.”
For a moment I got lost in hers, which were blue like
the purest water. They were like tiny oceans in a young
looking face framed perfectly by golden blonde hair.
When she hugged me, I felt like I wanted to say I love
you and kiss her. She almost made the pain of not being
able to touch Caitlin go away.
It was only a second, though, before we parted. With a
hand on my back, she led me back into the dance, which
was mercifully winding down. Dennis, who after all was a
guy, hadn’t considered that something might be wrong.
And though I said I was tired, he insisted that I go to
Caitlin’s party with him.
Caitlin’s party took a strange turn almost immediately.
Her date immediately started getting fresh with her,
which she publicly showed was unwelcome. However, it
seemed artificial, almost rehearsed. Even when one of
her date’s buddies showed up and she kicked both of them
out it seemed as if it wasn’t unexpected. I tried to
talk to Caitlin a couple of times, but she kept telling
me politely that she would talk to me later. Eventually,
people began to filter out. Dennis was still very nice
and kept me as entertained as I could be.
However, he did refuse to do one thing—take me home. As
the party wound down, I asked several times, but each
time he put me off a little bit. Eventually he said,
that he wanted to help Caitlin clean up. I was pretty
sure I knew what was going on. Caitlin had ditched her
date so she could end up with Dennis, and Dennis had
only come as a cover to be with Caitlin. I had never
felt so used.
Finally, it was just the three of us left. We did the
basic clean up together, with me feeling like a third
wheel. I felt relieved when Dennis said he was going to
head out. The torture being so close to Caitlin was
almost unbearable, and now it would be over.
Most people think that life has a smooth flow from one
event to the next with things foreshadowed in one way or
another. If that is true, I must have been the most
oblivious person on the planet because when I turned to
go get my stuff I was shocked to feel her hand on my
shoulder and hear Caitlin say, “Please, don’t go.”
Turning and looking at her, she looked sad. It was a
particular kind of sadness though, the one of fear
tinged with embarrassment when you think you may have
put something on the line and lost. I didn’t see her
face as I stared at her, instead I could see her soul.
She was like me.
I didn’t respond, but both she knew I was going to stay.
When Dennis came back with his stuff, he had a huge
smile on his face. Caitlin grabbed him and while sobbing
kept thanking him. As he stroked her hair, he said that
she had always been his best friend and he wanted
nothing more than to see her happy. With that he gently
kissed her on the cheek, then hugged me, and then walked
out the front door.
It was awkward. The two high school lesbians finally
stood alone, face-to-face, finally having to answer the
unrequited crushes they had for each other. At first we
stood chatting about what the problem was like. But
eventually we ended up sitting on the sofa talking about
our lives and our dreams. It was late and I was feeling
tired, but I came back to life when the most beautiful
girl in the school leaned over and gently kissed me.
One’s first kiss is always a shock, probably just
because you’ve actually done it, but it’s even more of a
shock when you’re gay because it’s rarely the way you
dreamed it would be with the person you wanted it to be.
However, with Caitlin everything seemed perfect and in a
few minutes we were heavily making out.
Eventually, we ended up in Caitlin’s bedroom. As we lay
on her bed heavily making out, our dresses quickly came
off. I hadn’t needed to wear a bra, and Caitlin had
managed to somehow go without one too. So as our chests
rubbed together I got more and more turned on. It was
Caitlin who started to push things further, gently
kissing down my neck and onto my chest she kissed around
my breasts and ended up sucking on my nipples. It was
the perfect combination between playful and passionate.
The perfect thing for a high school lesbian’s first
time.
After a few minutes, her hands slipped under my panties,
as she gently played with and sort of twirled the
shorthair I had down there, I went from being wet to
totally soaked. When she slid between my legs and began
to pull my panties off, I lifted my hips to let her.
Then she returned to her task kissing down my stomach
and onto my thighs.
Finally, one of my masturbatory fantasies actually
happened, Caitlin’s tongue licked my pussy. At first it
was unfocused. Apparently, she had no experience with
this. To help her, I made a point of responding to
everything that felt good, and soon she was
concentrating on my clit while she fucked me with two
fingers. I ended up coming the hardest I ever had in my
life.
When I came down from the high, I was more than happy to
return the favor. I figured that Caitlin had done to me
what she would have wanted done to herself, so I
followed the exact same pattern. I was surprised at how
big her nipples felt in my mouth, and how hard they
actually were. And as I kissed down her breasts to her
stomach I could taste the salty perspiration of her
first time.
When I finally got to the place of my second fantasy,
she was already soaking wet. I cannot describe what the
taste was like, but to this day it is still the best
thing I had ever tasted. In almost no time, I had her
exploding in orgasm.
Later in life, I would have cuddled with her naked.
However we were teenagers and didn’t understand the
etiquette of being lovers. While we did cuddle and share
a bed, we each wore a pair of Caitlin’s pajamas. She
looked beautiful in hers, while the pair I wore was much
too short for me but somehow still seemed to hang off of
me. I drifted off to sleep thinking life couldn’t be any
better.
By the time we got up the next morning, Caitlin’s mother
was home. When we got downstairs together, she had
bagels and cream cheese waiting for us. It was awkward
and welcoming at the same time, as Mrs. Brooks acted
like there was nothing strange about her daughter
bringing another girl downstairs.
While one could have put it off as her mother not
knowing what happened, it became abundantly clear that
she did when her mother said that she was very happy
Caitlin had found me and she hoped I would be around for
a while. Looking at Caitlin, who was disheveled from sex
and the night’s sleep but still was immeasurably
beautiful, I said that I would be there as long as we
were in the same place.
For the second time in less than a day, life shocked me
when Caitlin practically flew across the table and
started kissing me. It was the frantic happy kisses that
one gives when your partner does something surprisingly
wonderful for you. At first I didn’t understand why she
was telling me she would stay with me forever then. We
were both going off to college and I assume to different
places.
However, Caitlin explained that when she saw somebody
was going to a small women’s college she assumed that it
was me. I knew somebody else had been accepted to the
same school as me, but I never figured that it would be
her. Almost immediately, we declared ourselves a couple.
With Caitlin at my side, I came out to my parents later
that day. It turned out to be the smallest deal one
could imagine, almost disappointingly so. Neither of my
parents were surprised, though my father was a little
confused because he thought I had already come out to my
mother. Apparently, she had told him I was a lesbian and
he assumed that she and I had a conversation.
Realistically, they had always figured. They gave me
their blessing, and asked Caitlin if she would come over
for burgers that night.
Young love makes you reckless, and you do things that if
you were older would seem like a bad idea. Today though,
Caitlin and I were young and in love. So during a walk
in the park that afternoon, we decided that we would
publicly come out—not just as a couple, but as full-
blown lesbians. We drove to a mall about an hour away,
one where nobody would know us and bought a lesbian
magazine at a bookstore.
Then while sitting in the food court we picked out
haircuts and new clothing styles. When we got back to my
parents’ house that evening for burgers we looked more
like stereotypes than anything else, but we were happy
and new things were going to last.
The reaction at school on Monday was mixed. Though the
bully kept gloating that she had been right, nobody
really paid attention. Some kids, mainly the Super
Christians, made nasty comments. Others like Dennis and,
surprisingly, Caitlin’s prom date were very supportive.
In fact, the cool kids were our biggest allies. Most of
the kids, however, couldn’t have cared less; they were
too focused on graduation.
The next few years were better than I had ever imagined
they could be. Caitlin and I came to college as a couple
and stayed a couple the entire time. We eventually
stopped being in-your-face lesbians, at an all-women’s
college there were enough other girls like us that we
didn’t feel we needed to make a statement. I studied
education, while Caitlin studied journalism. We stayed
on at the college long enough for me to get my Masters
which would improve my job prospects.
Gay, straight, or other, college couples face what is
often an insurmountable hurdle—graduation. We had been
together for over six years, and Caitlin and I had never
talked about what would happen when both of us were
finally done with our degrees. While I had been
finishing my studies, Caitlin had been writing for the
local underground newspaper. In only two years she had
developed a really good reputation and had job offers
from a number of places. I had gotten very good grades
and had already started to develop a good resume.
Unfortunately, Caitlin and I wanted different things. It
came to a head one night when a phone call came offering
her a job writing for a magazine in San Francisco. We
both believed in LGBT rights and she thought it would be
a great place to make a mark. I on the other hand, never
saw myself teaching in an urban school district I wanted
the quiet suburban life—slightly differently than other
people, but I wanted that nonetheless. I also thought
that I could better make my mark by teaching and showing
that lesbians are just normal people.
There was no fighting that night, but there was a lot of
sadness. We had promised each other that we would be
together forever, but that forever had turned out to be
only long enough to become adults. On the day our lease
ended, we kissed one last time before getting into our
respective moving vans and starting out to the next
places in our life—her to San Francisco, and me to this
school outside of Richmond, Virginia.
There was a movie from back when I grew up, “He Man and
the Masters of the Universe”. It’s really a pretty bad
movie, but I learned something very important from it.
In the movie, they never said goodbye. Because they
always believed that they would see the other person
again, they instead said “good journeys”. On the day I
had to report to my new school I understood how true
that was.
My first stop after the general staff orientation was to
meet the principal. The plaque on her door said,
“Abigail Morris.” What probably should have been a
getting to know you talk, was really reminiscing about
what things had been like my old high school. It turned
out that the brief conversation with me at the prom and
a quick hug had ended her career at my high school. The
reason why she knew what I was feeling was because she
was a lesbian too.
She confessed that good judgment had never been her best
trait. At first when she had come to the school, she
kept her sexuality hidden and didn’t date. But
eventually, she became enraptured by one of my
classmate’s mother and they secretly began an affair.
The façade of friendship had been suspect to a lot of
people. When the bully who had first caught me
masturbating watching Caitlin saw that Abigail hugged me
at the prom, she decided she would make trouble.
It probably would have blown over, but her lover got
scared and led the drive to get her fired. With all the
shouts about not wanting a dyke teaching their children,
Abigail knew there was no way she could stay. She could
have fought in court, and she could have outed my
classmate’s mother, but she had character. So instead,
she quietly took a generous buyout from the school
district and found a new job.
We were both in better and more comfortable places in
our lives than we had been when I was in high school,
and being in a lot of way peers we were able to become
friends very quickly. Abigail introduced me to the
lesbian scene in Richmond, small as that was, and more
importantly to the larger one in Washington DC.
Eventually, we got to be almost exclusive friends.
Then on a weekend trip to a Delaware beach, Abigail
asked me if we could be more. Looking at a woman who was
15 years older than me and pushing 40 years old, I
noticed her face still look youthful framed by slightly
aged but still beautiful golden hair. And her eyes—her
eyes still were the blue of purest water. I couldn’t
help but say yes.
That night in our small bed-and-breakfast, we made love.
I had only been with one woman in my life, Caitlin, so
it was with sadness that I made an awkward attempt. With
Abigail’s coaching I did fine, but was hard for me to
concentrate as only about six months before I had lost
the person I thought I was going to spend my life with.
It wasn’t beautiful, but I hoped eventually it would be.
Unfortunately, my new love didn’t like it the same way
my old one had, instead she liked things a little
rougher. Instead of sucking on her nipples I needed to
bite them. Instead of gently using two fingers on her, I
needed to have three in her pussy and two in her ass.
Instead of making love to me gently like Caitlin did,
she like to pinch my nipples hard. At first it would
feel good, but eventually I would end up in pain.
The only reason I did it was because I saw the smile on
Abigail’s face. And Abigail was a pillow princess, she
would not go down on me. She was fine using toys or her
fingers, but her tongue was out of the question. The one
thing that always frustrated her was that I would not
let her use a strap-on on me. I had never had anything
other than Caitlin’s fingers inside of me, and had no
desire to have anything else penetrate me.
We kept things discreet until the end of the school
year, at which time I transferred to a different school.
I was just starting my career and the move would be
easy. Abigail, on the other hand, was an administrator
and would’ve been much harder to move. I had quickly
fallen in love with her, so I was more than happy to do
what it took to make us work.
And that was the way things stood for several years,
Abigail and I lived together as lovers but kept telling
people that we were “roommates”. We would make love when
Abigail felt like it, which I was willing to do because
I loved her. We went where she wanted to go on
vacations, tended to hang around her friends. We always
referred to them as our friends, but in reality I hadn’t
gotten to know anyone else in the area because I got
involved with Abigail so quickly. All of ‘our’ friends
had been friends with her before we met.
Our end was quick. The night after Abigail’s 40th
birthday party, she seemed down. When I asked her what
was wrong, she said that even though she was a lesbian
she still really wanted to have children. I couldn’t
understand what she meant. I don’t believe it was
abnormal that in high school I didn’t think about
children a lot of girls do because many don’t. And then
from prom night I had known I would never be with a man.
I wanted to be with women and had no interest in the
opposite sex. Children, in my opinion, did not fit into
that equation.
The discussion got even more uncomfortable. With her
age, Abigail was afraid of carrying a child. Her
solution to that problem was for me to carry the child.
And with that, the fight began. I reminded her that most
people thought I was a single straight woman and that if
I showed up unmarried and pregnant it might be even
worse than coming out as a lesbian. However, Abigail was
insistent. So finally, I agreed I would think about it,
but needed some time.
That week end I decided to make an unannounced visit to
my parents. When I showed up late Friday night, my
parents were happy to see me, but concerned about how I
looked. We stayed up all night talking about what was
going on with Abigail and me. Their firm belief was that
I needed to get out of the relationship, which I didn’t
want to hear. They were an old straight couple, who
could lead a good life together, whereas I was a
lesbian. When they were young they were able to freely
dates and find people.
While I could have done that at college, I hadn’t. I had
given all of my love and my youth to Caitlin Brooks and
that had come to nothing. Now I had to take whatever I
could. When I started sassing back like a teenage brat,
they just hugged me and said we can talk about it more
the next day.
I must have been feeling particularly self-loathing the
next afternoon, because when my parents were out
shopping I decided to take a drive out to the Brooks
house. When I knocked on their door Caitlin’s parents
were surprised, but invited me in anyway. Part of me
hoped beyond all reason that Caitlin might have been
there and that my first love would have missed me and
wanted me back. But she wasn’t. It turns out that she
had only been in California for about a year when she
met another woman.
As soon as Massachusetts had legalized same-sex
marriage, they had taken off for Boston. Now my ex-
girlfriend was an aspiring writer married to an
elementary school teacher and talking about starting a
family.
It cut me to the heart. Nine years ago, I had fallen in
love in this house, and now it was crushed. When I
thanked them for their hospitality, they told me I could
stop by anytime I was in town. I was grateful, but I
told him that I didn’t think that would be a good idea.
They hugged me with such love, but it physically hurt
knowing that this was really the end of my first love.
I spent the rest of the day in a fog. I drove around the
town, eventually ending up at the mall where Caitlin and
I had gotten our haircuts years ago. The name was
different, but I found the same salon and decided to
make a change. Describing the best I could the haircut
that made me look like a lesbian almost a decade ago, I
decided I was going to make a statement. I was who I
was, and I was not going to let anybody change that.
Abigail could take me for what I was, a lesbian who had
no desire for children, or she could leave me.
A few weeks later, it was I who ended up doing the
leaving.
When I moved into my new apartment, I was more nervous
than I had ever been. As an adult, I had never been
alone. I had no real adult interests to keep me busy and
no friends of my own. For about a year, I reverted back
to the high school me. I kept to myself, mainly reading
books and not getting close to anyone. Then one day
while I was walking the park it hit me out of the blue,
a bicycle.
Even though I said I was okay, the rider still wearing
sunglasses and a helmet insisted on calling an
ambulance. She kept me down and made sure that I was
comfortable until the paramedics came. When they were
satisfied that I didn’t need medical treatment, I
finally realized who it was. My old bully from high
school had almost killed me.
The frustrations of my adult life quickly came rushing
back, and I asked if she knew who I was. Turns out that
from the second she saw me on the ground she did. Her
name was Jill Sable, which I had known but had never
really considered important, and she was a different
person than she was in high school. She started by
apologizing, with sincerity I had never seen in a
person, for how she had treated me. A little while later
over coffee, she told me that she was now a nurse and
married with two children.
She most definitely was not a lesbian, but through
college and work had realized the pain she had caused
me. She had hoped I wouldn’t recognize her but it was
almost a relief that I had. We ended our coffee
exchanging email addresses and saying we should get
together sometime.
Still wallowing in my sorrow, I really had no intention
of being friends with anybody much less Jill, but she
pressured me. Eventually I gave in and had dinner with
her. Remarkably, we shared the same taste in music and
books. It really wasn’t much, but we were able to start
building a friendship on it. Eventually, she introduced
me to a lot of nice people, all straight unfortunately,
and I even started hanging out with her family. For the
first time in my life I had a real friendship.
The best part was that I never developed an attraction
to Jill. Maybe it was because she set boundaries well,
or maybe it was because we couldn’t devote our full
attention to each other. I’m not sure exactly what it
was, but there was something that kept the friendship a
friendship. With that settled, Jill became my biggest
supporter. Eventually, when I felt like I was caught in
a rut in life it was she and her husband who encouraged
me to take a chance and get a degree in school
counseling. A few years later, I was ready to look for a
job as a school counselor.
It was also Jill who accidentally made me the happiest
woman in the world. It happened one night when one of
the Baltimore universities was hosting a symposium of
authors. The theme was about when people found their
voice and writing. Two authors were featured. One was a
guy from near where I grew up, but had become the
consummate Maryland author, writing books about the
watermen and farmers of the Eastern shore of Maryland. I
had never read his stuff. The other was the reason I
wanted to go, Caitlin Brooks.
Jill did everything she could to stop me from going. She
warned me about my self-destructive streak, and told me
how it would bring nothing but pain. However being the
great friend that she was, when I insisted on going she
offered to come with me.
It went even worse than I could have expected. I
intentionally hadn’t read anything Caitlin had written,
I thought it would be too painful. If I had even skimmed
a review of her latest book, I never would have come. It
was a book meant for teenagers and it was about a high
school lesbian finding love and a girl very different
from her. She admitted it was semi-autobiographical, but
that was an understatement.
It was our story from her point of view. It went right
up to our breakup, and her pulling onto the interstate
headed for her new life. If the story was correct, her
tears as she got into her moving van were a lie. Because
the story ended with her thinking about what she had
learned from the relationship and how she was now strong
enough to be an adult. She didn’t include that I had
been crushed.
After the symposium, Jill was at my side when I
confronted my ex-girlfriend, the love of my life. Like
so many other things in my life, it didn’t go the way I
expected. Instead of being embarrassed or regretful,
Caitlin was happy to see me. She thanked me for
everything I had given her and said we should get
together sometime.
I could tell she didn’t mean a reunion get together, she
meant something more along the lines of meeting her wife
and children. Luckily, before I could give an answer she
excused herself to go to the airport. When she offered
me an autographed book, Jill politely turned it down for
me and suggested that I buy one from the other author.
Having a good friend can be annoying. At the exact
moment you want to wallow in self-pity and convince
yourself that everything’s wrong in the world, they go
ahead and do something to snap you out of it. Again,
what Jill did was unintentional. Really, she was just
worried that I would somehow hurt myself more than
mentally. So rather than taking me home, she insisted
that I stay at her house that night. So there, alone and
restless, I started to read the book by the other
author. I was surprised at how much I liked it. He spun
these beautiful stories about sadness and hope about the
loss of a way of life but the belief that there would be
something else that could come up. I was hooked.
By the end of the school year, I had read everything the
guy had written. Most importantly, I had read about him
and how he had met his wife. I really couldn’t relate
because it involved dating three sisters and hooking up
with their mother, but it did for the first time in my
life give me a belief that maybe things can work out in
the end. Most importantly, it doesn’t have to work out
with the person we expected it would.
Jill was supportive when I said I needed a change, and
encouraged me to apply for jobs as a guidance counselor.
I ended up applying for positions in three areas, two
schools near Baltimore, three near Washington, and on a
whim I applied to one out on the Eastern Shore where my
now favorite author’s books were set.
I ended up getting two offers, one outside of Washington
at one of the most prestigious public high schools in
the country and the other at the small rural high school
on the Eastern Shore. The former made all the sense in
the world. It had prestige; it paid better; and it was
near a city with an excellent gay and lesbian culture,
which would be perfect as I was feeling like I was ready
to start dating again. Of course, I chose the other
school. I don’t know whether it was fear, or fate, or a
gut feeling, but something told me that that was the
right choice.
With the help of Jill, her husband, and all the
wonderful people I had gotten to know through them, I
sorted through all of the things I’d accumulated over
the years. Most of my stuff was meaningless, IKEA
furniture and that sort, but some of it had sentimental
value. Everybody encouraged me to keep the stuff that
reminded me of my parents or reminded me of the past few
years.
I gladly got rid of everything that I shared with
Abigail, and kicking and screaming got rid of the last
things that I shared with Caitlin. The only thing
involving her that I kept was a picture that my father
had taken of us at graduation. Our arms were around each
other and we held our diplomas in the air. Standing
behind us and hugging both of us was Dennis Michaels.
When I saw the picture for the first time in the 11
years it had been since Caitlin and I had broken up, I
didn’t know what to think. On one hand, that super nice
guy had helped me get exactly what I wanted back in high
school. However, that led me to exactly where I was now,
alone. My relationship with Caitlin had been painful.
And then Abigail had caught me in that pain and taken
advantage of it.
It had been nine years of fake love and pain. If it
hadn’t been for that bicycle accident with Jill ending a
year of isolation, I’d probably be miserable. But though
I was alone, the last seven years had been good. With
friends that really cared and no pressure to make anyone
else happy, I had actually learned who I wanted to be
and what I wanted to do with my life.
I couldn’t blame Dennis for how my life was today. How
was he to know that getting what I wanted would hurt so
much? We had all been teenagers—me, Dennis, Caitlin,
Jill. None of us had really known anything. We just did
the best we could to try to be happy, and in Dennis’
case to try to make other people happy. Though the
decisions of our youth are visited upon us as adults, we
can’t hold ourselves responsible for any mistakes we
made. It may be unfair that the decisions we make that
have the biggest impact on our lives are the ones we
make with no experience. As they say, youth is wasted on
the young. And whenever things get bad, it’s never too
late to go in a new direction.
I took the picture and I packed it away in a box of
mementos that I knew I wouldn’t open anytime soon. I
quickly sent off an email to my parents asking if they
had any of my old prom pictures left. Knowing what
somebody who barely knew me did try to help me be happy
made me smile bigger than I had in years. I decided that
I needed to have a reminder of this nice guy who, though
his time in my life was fleeting, had a bigger impact
than he could ever have imagined. What I really needed
though was a reminder that didn’t have Caitlin in it.
Public schools are bureaucracies; one should always
remember that. And like all bureaucracies things often
get screwed up. It turned out that my paperwork was
totally screwed up, and it took the better part of the
summer to get everything worked out. So by the time I
finally got through my orientation and was able to set
up my office, it was already the week leading up to the
first day of school. The only thing I had been able to
do was brush up on the cases of some of the most high
risk students.
I hadn’t even been able to read through the names of all
the teachers. In fact, the only thing I really knew
about any of the teachers was that the faculty morale
was at a low point. It had nothing to do with the
district or the students. It was because one of the most
popular teachers, a really nice guy, had just been left
by his wife. He was now a struggling single dad with
three young children.
Needless to say, I was worried about how it would go
when I had a first meeting with the sports coaches. High
school athletes often have special concerns the
counselor needs to deal with. Not only do they face the
pressures of sports, but many feel pressure to use
steroids or other performance-enhancing substances. The
really good ones have to deal with choosing whether they
want to do sports and colleges.
When you’re a counselor the biggest ally you need in
helping these kids are their coaches. My mentor had told
me that this was usually one of the most difficult
groups to actually get help from, and when I found out
that the teacher in question was the baseball coach I
was convinced the first meeting would not go well.
When I walked into the faculty room, there were a bunch
of men and women standing around, with one guy slumped
back in a chair. They all seemed concerned, even a
little angry. I wasn’t sure anybody had even seen me, as
they just kept talking as the door closed. Suddenly I
was thrown back to my high school days, when I could be
in a room and nobody even noticed me and then was
slapped in the face by being involved with women to whom
I didn’t even matter, I felt like crying. But then I got
a good look at the man slumped over in the chair.
Even sitting down he looked tall, and though approaching
middle age he seemed to have a good body. When I caught
a glimpse of his blue eyes, I knew who he was. When he
suddenly threw his hands up over his eyes and asked if
there was anyone who would be able to give him the help
he needed right now, it was only natural for me to say,
“Yes, Dennis. I will.”
“Vicki? Vicki Jackson?” Dennis asked looking up from the
chair. When I nodded that I was, he flew across the room
and hugged me. “Vicki, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for
everything that happened. If I had known what she was
going to do, I never would’ve gotten you two together.”
It was inconceivable. A man who had just been left by
his wife and didn’t know what he was going to do to keep
his life together was apologizing to me for introducing
me to the girl that I wanted to be with. He might look
17 years older than when I saw him last, but he hadn’t
changed. He was thinking about me more than himself. I
hugged him back and whispered, “Anything you need.”
Of course, I really didn’t know anything about how to
help Dennis, so I let him take the lead. For the first
few months of being friends again, I just let him talk.
He let me know what had happened in his life. After high
school he had been drafted by a major league baseball
team and unfortunately got stalled in single A level
ball. His fourth year, he was playing for a team here on
the Eastern shore and decided to call it quits.
He still loved baseball and wanted to stay involved. At
the same time, he decided he needed a real job. So, he
decided to marry those goals by going to one of the
universities nearby and studying education. When he
graduated there was an opening at one of the high
schools nearby and within a few years he was teaching
history and coaching the junior varsity team.
Just after he had started, he met one of the local
women. They hit it off pretty well, and became very
comfortable with each other. Eventually, they decided to
get married. He said it was like marrying his best
friend. Things were fine until their third child was
born, when his wife began to grow distant. They plodded
on for a few more years with Dennis gradually taking
over more of the home and childcare responsibilities.
His wife on the other hand decided she needed to have
getaway weekends. Though he was concerned that she might
be cheating, he thought if he gave her space whatever
was going on would pass. Then a few months ago he came
home to a note, saying that she had been living a lie
with him, but after reading a book—Catlin’s book—she
realized she needed to be honest with herself and him.
She was moving away to start a new life and didn’t want
him or the children to contact her. Rather than tell
anybody the truth, he told people she ran away with
another guy. He thought that as bad as being cuckold
would look, it would look even worse if he had married a
lesbian.
Though I could sympathize with his soon-to-be ex-wife’s
feelings, I also understood how hard it was to be left,
especially when you feel like everything had been a lie.
That’s how Caitlin made me feel when I heard what was in
her book—that goddamn book. Luckily, when I let him know
that I could relate he didn’t feel as if I was
belittling his feelings at all. Instead, he wanted me to
talk about how I felt first when Caitlin left and then
when I heard about her perspective in the book. He was
aghast when I told him about the reading and her
attitude afterwards.
The hardest part of our discussions, though, was when he
would ask what he could’ve done to make his wife a
lesbian. As much as I tried to tell him that people were
probably born gay and that no matter how hard you try
they’re never going to be able to change. No matter how
great a guy he was, she would have always been who she
turned out to be. I let him know that even with all the
heartache Caitlin and Abigail had given me, I considered
myself lucky. I had always known who I was and never
tried to pretend I was anyone other than that. I don’t
know whether he started to believe me in the next few
months or whether he just began to numb, but he seemed
better about it.
As the school year continued I arranged my sessions so
we could eat lunch together. It was great to have a
friend to talk to, sort of a male version of Jill. What
was even better was that there was no talk or rumors. To
the other teachers and his friends, Dennis had always
said one of the things he had done that he was most
proud of was setting up Caitlin and me. Hence, everybody
knew I was a lesbian before I even walked in the door.
And no matter what anybody thought about me or my
orientation, if Dennis Michaels considered me a friend I
was a good person.
Autumn ended, and winter came. Instead of getting bored
with each other, Dennis and my friendship continued to
grow. When a freak December snowstorm prevented my
parents from coming down for Christmas, Dennis was good
enough to invite me to celebrate with him and his
children. So Christmas morning was the first time I got
to meet nine-year-old Davey, seven-year-old Samantha,
and five-year-old Norman. We spent the day with the
children opening presents in front of a roaring fire,
while Dennis and I drank mulled wine and cider. It was
such a good day, that I stayed around talking with him
after the little ones had already passed out from sugar
and excitement.
I had still never thought about having children myself,
after all I was still a lesbian, but I didn’t mind being
around his kids. Each of them had a most wonderful
personality. Davey was a carbon copy of his father,
polite, helpful, and always thinking of other people.
Samantha, or Sam as she preferred, was the hyperactive
middle child always seeking attention. She played
baseball like her father did and maintained that she
would not switch to softball. Norman was quiet, the kind
of kid that took everything in and knew exactly what was
going on. Whenever I would go to their house I wanted to
stay longer and longer so I could have just a little bit
of time with each of them.
When baseball season started, I happily volunteered to
do the pickups after school, to make dinner, and to
start the kids on their homework. I really had no idea
what I was doing. While I could manage students in a
classroom, I was clueless when it came to managing their
lives around the home. And I wasn’t a very good cook
either. All I could really do, was listen to how their
days were, answer homework questions if I could, and be
a playmate if that’s all that was needed. Though I
usually felt flustered by the time Dennis got home, I
never minded staying.
On the personal level I made new friends. They were
mostly other teachers and people I met through them, but
eventually I had a small group of positive affirming
people around me. Every so often I would still go back
to Baltimore to visit Jill, and even convinced her to
bring her family out to visit me. She was shocked to
find out that I was hanging out with Dennis so much. And
I think she almost passed out when she found out the
role I was playing in his children’s lives.
She warned me to make sure I knew what I was doing, as
the kids were probably too young to understand that no
matter how well we got along I would never be interested
in their father. Though I assured her I knew what I was
doing, in reality I wondered what was going on. I was
finally at a point in my life I should be pursuing the
things I really wanted, but instead I wanted to spend
time with this guy and his children.
On the relationship front, my life began to look up as
well. I met a woman who was a professor at one of the
local colleges. She was a few years younger than me, and
just as in-your-face a lesbian as I had been when I
first went to college. The great thing about the
relationship was that she didn’t pressure me for sex. I
had only been with two people in my life, and had gotten
terribly hurt by both of them. When I said that I wanted
to make sure the relationship was real and was going to
last before we had sex, she understood.
I don’t know how long she thought she would end up
waiting, but I kept making her wait. Even with romantic
weekends and such, my attention was never fully on her.
I found myself calling Dennis to see how he was doing
when I was away. Once I even insisted we cancel a day
trip because Norman was sick and I wanted to help out.
At first my girlfriend made jokes about whether I was
really a lesbian. Eventually though, she got accusatory,
saying that I was in love with Dennis.
One night two years into our relationship I tried to
explain that I liked being around him because he treated
everybody so well, and that he was a good father, and
that I couldn’t think of anybody I admired more than
him. When she shot back that it sounded like I was
describing my dream lover, I tried to make her see that
with what Dennis had done for me back in high school the
least I could do was to help him now. Finally, she
screamed that I should just go ahead and marry him. Then
she packed her things and left.
I wasn’t devastated; I wasn’t even numb; but I did want
somebody to talk to. So late at night, well after his
bedtime, I’ve drove to Dennis’s house. I didn’t bother
to call him until I was standing on his porch, mobile
phone in one hand knocking on the door with the other.
Without question or a angry word, my old friend let me
into his house and stayed up most of the night with me
drinking tea and talking.
We didn’t talk much about the breakup. It didn’t really
feel all that important for me to talk about. What was
most interesting to both of us was the cause. Not only
had my girlfriend noticed how much time we are spending
together, but some of her other friends thought it was a
little weird too. We laughed agreeing that maybe we
couldn’t even understand our friendship.
In as much as I leaned on Dennis, I was there for him to
lean on when he needed somebody as well. About four
years after she left, his ex-wife contacted him. She had
finally figured things out and was ready to be back
involved in the children’s lives. She was indeed a
lesbian, and was living with a woman near Philadelphia.
After a few months of negotiations, we agreed to let the
children spend the weekend with them.
We met at the travel plaza in Delaware to shuttle the
children between cars. As his ex-wife, her girlfriend,
and his children pulled away I could tell he was tense.
For some reason it felt natural for me to take his hand
in mine. Our fingers intertwined and we held hands as
something other than friends. I was even more shocked to
find myself embracing him leaning my head against his
chest and telling him it would be okay. It did not even
feel weird when we held hands most of the way home.
That night I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t know what was
going on with myself. I had just shared a stressful but
then tender trip with the man who was my best friend. He
was a man who I wanted to be around all the time, whose
children I wanted to have as part of my life. I
respected him and couldn’t stand it when I wasn’t around
him. But something was wrong with it; I wasn’t supposed
to feel about a man that way. I was a lesbian!
I went to the Internet and started looking at porn. I
thought that may be over the years I had missed
something. Maybe I really did like men in one way or
another. But it wasn’t true; some of the men’s bodies I
saw did nothing for me, but many outright disgusted me.
The women on the other hand got me excited. Black ones,
white ones; young ones, middle-aged ones; small ones,
big ones; it didn’t matter they all excited me. Back in
bed, I masturbated thinking about all the women in
different shapes, colors, and sizes, about how beautiful
their bodies were.
I got myself off to a very satisfying orgasm. As I was
coming down from the high, I leaned over to cuddle with
my pillow. As I nuzzled it, my mind drifted to Dennis
and I pretended it was him. When I realized what I was
doing I started to cry. I had no idea what was going on
or where these feelings were coming from. All I knew was
that I wanted to be with him right now.
The next day I casually called Dennis under the pretense
of seeing if he was doing OK. I was almost happy that he
seemed a little down because I didn’t feel guilty when I
offered to hang out. We ended up going to the mall
together, as we each could stand to pick up a few things
for around the house. Though everything seemed normal
for Dennis, I swung between feeling comfortable and
awkward.
When we sat and talked everything was fine, and I felt
about the same as I always did when we hung out. But
then I noticed little things, like how I would stand a
little closer to him than I used to, or like how I
couldn’t help smiling whenever I looked up at his eyes.
It was driving me crazy it wasn’t supposed to happen
like this.
And then with the most unexpected event, the die was
cast. As we walked out of one of the department stores,
we saw a young couple yelling at each other. As people
moved away, I noticed Dennis inching towards them. When
the woman slapped the guy in the face, he pulled his
hand back to hit her. But then in the second Dennis was
between them. He strongly suggested that the woman
leave, and told the guy he wanted to talk to him.
Over the next few hours I sat with Dennis and this young
guy he had never met while they talked about everything
that was wrong in the guy’s life. He had been a high
school football star but had gotten his girlfriend, the
woman who had slapped him, pregnant. He had wanted to go
to college or maybe join the military, anything but end
up in a small town doing some kind of menial work.
Instead, they ended up here with him repairing farm
equipment. I could tell that though he was only in his
early 20s, this guy was already a shell of a man.
Most people would politely listen for a while, then
given some platitudes about how life always gets better,
and sent the guy on his way, but that’s not what Dennis
did. Instead, I sat there while this remarkable man
talked through possibilities that the guy could do with
his life. They worked out small steps and big steps that
he could take. And Dennis also had him take into account
the things his wife wanted to do. By the time we dropped
the guy off at their trailer, he had a smile on his face
and was actually excited to go inside and talk to his
wife.
Sitting in the passenger seat of the car, I knew I
wanted this man. I wasn’t lusting after him like I might
after a woman. What I wanted was to have him inside of
me, to possess part of him, to hold him in the most
intimate way hoping that a part of who he was would stay
inside of me. I didn’t know how to go about seducing a
man but I knew that this afternoon was going to be my
first.
When we walked inside the front door of Dennis’s house,
I decided to make my move. After we had both slipped off
our shoes I put my arms around him and pulled him
towards me. Then standing on my toes I leaned up and
kissed him on the lips. His face was scratchy which I
didn’t like, but when our lips touched I knew I wanted
to keep going. When I pulled back Dennis was in shock.
When he asked me what I was doing, I was honest and told
him I didn’t know I just knew that I needed him.
Stammering over his words he said that he had developed
feelings for me a few years ago, but he had thought I
was a lesbian. I started to cry telling him that I was
one, and that men’s bodies still did nothing for me.
Except his—well, not his body—there was something about
him that made me want to be with him. I wasn’t attracted
to his body, I was attracted to who he was, the person
who had been willing to help Caitlin and me back in high
school, who was a great teacher, a great father, a great
so many things, a guy so good that he would even spend
hours trying to help a young man he didn’t even know.
That’s what I wanted. That’s when I realized I had
fallen in love with.
I ended up having to plead a little bit more, but
finally Dennis relented and quietly led me to his
bedroom. There standing next to his bed, we kissed not
with lust or passion, but with the desperation of two
people who want to be joined together. It transcended
gender, sex, or orientation. It was two souls that
wanted to be part of each other.
In general, I let Dennis take the lead, but for some
things I coached him. I think we were both aware that if
I were to enjoy this on a physical level we would need
to be creative. After all I was a lesbian and was
attracted to women. Dennis was understanding, and while
I lay naked next to him under the covers of his bed he
let me guide his fingers on how to play with my clit
while he asked me to describe the kind of women I liked.
His gentle understanding voice made me feel that it was
okay to be fantasizing about women even though I was
with him. As he got better at pleasuring me the
excitement began to build. Though I was thinking about
numerous at girls, it was him telling me how glad he was
to have me in his life that sent me into an orgasm.
I knew it was his turn now. I was nervous almost to the
point of shaking. I remembered back in high school a
girl saying that the first time hurt, I also couldn’t
picture having a man inside of me. But Dennis was
different. When I looked at his penis it didn’t seem
like the appendages stuck on men I saw in pornography.
It looked like a part of him, a natural extension of his
body, one that would fit inside of me. It wasn’t
Dennis’s cock that would be inside of me, it was simply
Dennis, the whole man.
Quietly, he asked if I was ready. With a gulp I said
that I was. Luckily, I was still wet from my orgasm and
my hymen must have been broken somewhere along the way,
because Dennis was able to slowly slide himself inside
of me. For a little while it did hurt, but then it just
felt weird. Another person was inside of me moving in
and out, sometimes gently, sometimes hard, but always
inside. In the abstract, the idea was disgusting. But
looking at Dennis’s face and knowing that it was him
inside of me and that he was enjoying it made me want it
more than anything else.
Eventually, I wrapped my legs around his back and hugged
him tightly around the chest. I wanted him pressed
against me, on top of me, inside of me. I just wanted to
be one with this wonderful, wonderful man. It wasn’t the
feeling of the movement that did it for me, but when I
saw the satisfaction on his face as he started to come
inside of me, I had another orgasm. It was much smaller,
but it meant so much more.
After getting cleaned up we decided to drive to
Annapolis for dinner. At a nice little restaurant
overlooking the bay, we discussed where things were
going to go from there. By the time we had finished our
after dinner drinks, we agreed we would take a chance.
Dennis would marry another lesbian, and I would commit
to spending my life with the man. I wouldn’t change who
I was, I couldn’t if I tried. But we were both ready to
commit to each other and hope for the best.
Needless to say, people were shocked when we told them.
After a while though, in a weird way it made sense to
most of them. In fact, most of our friends said that if
I wasn’t a lesbian we would have gotten married years
before. The children reacted well too, being incredibly
happy to have me there all the time. They loved me as
much is I loved them. They were aware that there was
something different about the relationship their father
and stepmother had, but they were willing to accept it
for what it was.
I can’t say everything is easy. Outside of the bedroom
things go very well. In a lot of ways, we complement
each other where one’s strength around the house or with
the children covers the others weakness. Intimacy is
also easy we share our feelings very well and most of
the time I want to have my arms wrapped around the
wonderful person to whom I am married.
The only problem is sex. Often, just my touch excites
Dennis, which becomes a problem because I always want to
be hugging him and cuddling with him. But sometimes it’s
very hard to get in the mood. Even talking about
beautiful women or watching lesbian porn cannot always
get me to a state or I can have him inside me. But we’ve
worked to find a middle ground. When I can’t get in the
mood for sex, I’ll give him a hand job. If he doesn’t
think that will be enough I’ll give him a blow job,
though I don’t really like doing it.
On rare occasions, I have even used enough lube so he
could get inside of me even though I didn’t really want
him in there. Those times, I told him to just hold me
down and fuck me until he was done no matter how long it
took. And while he goes in and out of me I just simply
think about why am doing it and who I am doing it for.
The more I think about that the easier it is, and one of
those times I even ended up having a huge orgasm just
knowing that I was making myself available to him.
I’m a lesbian. I was born one; I came of age as one; and
I will always be one. Being married to and in love with
this man, Dennis Michaels, does not change that. If he
was not in my life there would be a woman or there would
be nobody. He just happens to be the person I connected
with on levels people are not supposed to connect on.
It’s that connection and the respect I have for him that
make him the exception to the rule. I like women, but I
also like him.
I am a lesbian, he is my plus one.
-End Story-
Check out my other work at:
www.asstr.org/~Secret_DC_Guy
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
any way, shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of
the scenarios in this story should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 83