I was flying to Bali again.
Still couldn’t quite believe how quickly the new reality unfolded - but there I was, curled up in a soft business-class seat, heading towards the Island of Gods. Frankly, I understood perfectly well, although I denied this obvious fact as usual:
I was not flying to Bali, I was flying to Her.
…
The week before departure passed like a dream. Just seven days ago, I had no intention of going anywhere. My luxurious country estate is rented until autumn, my current IT project is in full swing, and I was still living out my role as the serious, self-sufficient woman, issuing commands from the leather director's chair in front of a huge monitor. This life, the one I’d chosen a year ago upon returning to Russia, was meant to ground me. I wanted roots. Stability. And I got exactly what I was looking for.
It felt… solid. Predictable. Safe.
And boring. So goddamn boring.
Human interaction had become rare - a luxury, really. I was increasingly getting used to the role of a dominant mistress, occasionally indulging myself in depraved pleasures with submissive pages, but real intimacy… that was slipping further and further away.
Over the course of this year, I have come to the crystal clear understanding that I am no longer attracted to men. Not as lovers, not as sponsors, not as life partners. Business partners - absolutely. Friends - why not. But I now dealt with men only from a position of power. I would outtalk, outmaneuver, and outshine any man who dared tell me what to do. Sex with them had become unbearable. With my heightened sensitivity, it became virtually impossible to have traditional sex. I got an orgasm from a light touch, from a breath, a focused energy. I no longer needed a dick inside to feel pleasure. For me, friction felt rough, and male energy basically ceased to attract. After all, I had revealed it within myself to the fullest.
“So what the hell am I supposed to do with all this?” I thought, sending yet another hopeless lover back home.
“Should I just become a lesbian?”
Hmm. Now there’s a thought.
It lingered in my mind for a while. Not just a fantasy - a real possibility. I began to remember my first sexual experiences… all of them were with girls.
And they literally began in kindergarten - games of doctor during nap time, tender touches that tiptoed over the edge; I remembered how at the summer house we used to hide in sleeping bags from adults with my bestie, kissing..secretly. I remember how tremulous those moments were, when your close friend - your soulmate - suddenly becomes closer. There was something so deliciously delicate about it. Not forbidden, not sinful - but soft, intuitive, natural. A little shy, perhaps. Because those moments with girls always happened unexpectedly, and once that current pulled you in, there was no possibility to stop it.
In my teens, I had many girls. Frankly speaking, I had sensual connections with nearly every close girlfriend. I remember one, my best friend at school - we shared a desk. I went to class just to feel her hand glide over my thigh under the table. We never discussed those moments, pretending that they weren't happening, but both were waiting for these sensitive caresses, thinking to ourselves: "put your pen down.. touch me now.."
That game - the one where nothing is happening - still turns me on to this day.
I love holding composure while drowning in arousal, desiring to moan loudly. Like then, in the deathly silence of the algebra test, when she put her pen aside and slowly slid her hand under my skirt. Her fingers brushed against my skin, inching toward my soaked panties. My entire inner world was shaking with lust while she, with a light movement of her gentle fingers, pushed aside the edge of my completely wet panties and, slightly touched my burning clitoris.
Still couldn’t quite believe how quickly the new reality unfolded - but there I was, curled up in a soft business-class seat, heading towards the Island of Gods. Frankly, I understood perfectly well, although I denied this obvious fact as usual:
I was not flying to Bali, I was flying to Her.
…
The week before departure passed like a dream. Just seven days ago, I had no intention of going anywhere. My luxurious country estate is rented until autumn, my current IT project is in full swing, and I was still living out my role as the serious, self-sufficient woman, issuing commands from the leather director's chair in front of a huge monitor. This life, the one I’d chosen a year ago upon returning to Russia, was meant to ground me. I wanted roots. Stability. And I got exactly what I was looking for.
It felt… solid. Predictable. Safe.
And boring. So goddamn boring.
Human interaction had become rare - a luxury, really. I was increasingly getting used to the role of a dominant mistress, occasionally indulging myself in depraved pleasures with submissive pages, but real intimacy… that was slipping further and further away.
Over the course of this year, I have come to the crystal clear understanding that I am no longer attracted to men. Not as lovers, not as sponsors, not as life partners. Business partners - absolutely. Friends - why not. But I now dealt with men only from a position of power. I would outtalk, outmaneuver, and outshine any man who dared tell me what to do. Sex with them had become unbearable. With my heightened sensitivity, it became virtually impossible to have traditional sex. I got an orgasm from a light touch, from a breath, a focused energy. I no longer needed a dick inside to feel pleasure. For me, friction felt rough, and male energy basically ceased to attract. After all, I had revealed it within myself to the fullest.
“So what the hell am I supposed to do with all this?” I thought, sending yet another hopeless lover back home.
“Should I just become a lesbian?”
Hmm. Now there’s a thought.
It lingered in my mind for a while. Not just a fantasy - a real possibility. I began to remember my first sexual experiences… all of them were with girls.
And they literally began in kindergarten - games of doctor during nap time, tender touches that tiptoed over the edge; I remembered how at the summer house we used to hide in sleeping bags from adults with my bestie, kissing..secretly. I remember how tremulous those moments were, when your close friend - your soulmate - suddenly becomes closer. There was something so deliciously delicate about it. Not forbidden, not sinful - but soft, intuitive, natural. A little shy, perhaps. Because those moments with girls always happened unexpectedly, and once that current pulled you in, there was no possibility to stop it.
In my teens, I had many girls. Frankly speaking, I had sensual connections with nearly every close girlfriend. I remember one, my best friend at school - we shared a desk. I went to class just to feel her hand glide over my thigh under the table. We never discussed those moments, pretending that they weren't happening, but both were waiting for these sensitive caresses, thinking to ourselves: "put your pen down.. touch me now.."
That game - the one where nothing is happening - still turns me on to this day.
I love holding composure while drowning in arousal, desiring to moan loudly. Like then, in the deathly silence of the algebra test, when she put her pen aside and slowly slid her hand under my skirt. Her fingers brushed against my skin, inching toward my soaked panties. My entire inner world was shaking with lust while she, with a light movement of her gentle fingers, pushed aside the edge of my completely wet panties and, slightly touched my burning clitoris.
Inside, I was unraveling.
Outside, I focused on numbers.
I came — soundlessly, ferociously, but so large-scale that I still get wet remembering this experience.
Later, the two of us went to summer school in England, right at the height of our little romance. We shared a room on campus — just the two of us, in a foreign country. She was my anchor, my best friend, and my tender lover.
Every night, we’d crawl into each other’s beds, kissing and caressing each other to the edge of madness. But even then, with no limits between us, we never went further than orgasms and kisses, remaining convinced virgins.
There were other girls after her. With each one, I sank deeper into my sensuality. This went on until I turned twenty — then marriage took over, and my bisexual adventures completely left our family leisure. Communication with girls ceased almost completely.. Until I launched the Secret Sense School of feminine intimacy.
And that’s when I met Her..
Outside, I focused on numbers.
I came — soundlessly, ferociously, but so large-scale that I still get wet remembering this experience.
Later, the two of us went to summer school in England, right at the height of our little romance. We shared a room on campus — just the two of us, in a foreign country. She was my anchor, my best friend, and my tender lover.
Every night, we’d crawl into each other’s beds, kissing and caressing each other to the edge of madness. But even then, with no limits between us, we never went further than orgasms and kisses, remaining convinced virgins.
There were other girls after her. With each one, I sank deeper into my sensuality. This went on until I turned twenty — then marriage took over, and my bisexual adventures completely left our family leisure. Communication with girls ceased almost completely.. Until I launched the Secret Sense School of feminine intimacy.
And that’s when I met Her..
to be continued..