Date: Wed, 2 Jun 2004 07:34:57 -0700 (PDT)
From: Suzy Suburbanite <suzy999999@yahoo.com>
Subject: Suzy

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It's a story of lesbian sex, so if
that offends you, or is illegal where you live, or if you're underage
where you live, then you must not read it.  It is a work of FICTION.

Thanks to all who wrote regarding my other stories.

Please be sure to e-mail feedback to suzy999999@yahoo.com and visit my
free story archive @

http://www.asstr.org/~suzy_suburbanite/

enjoy,
Suzy

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Suzy

By: Suzy Suburbanite


Well I guess I need to be part of the team and give all y'all my real deal
first time with a woman.

Now don't get me wrong, I had all the same girlhood experiences most women
my age had with stuff like "practice" kissing and the like.  And yes, that
did feel good-very, very good in some cases-but after all, that was
innocent, childish, "girly" behavior.

But that first time, as a woman, with a woman, wow-I'll never forget it!

I, like so many others, began to first fantasize about, and then write
about sex and sexy situations, as my marriage grew stale.  This was in a
time before the WWW existed and the internet was just a novel concept of
some hardcore geeks for things like e-mail and "Gopher".  Therefore, there
was no log-on, find a fuck, log-off culture.

The "big" thing back then was BBSing, and the "big" home computers were
386 boxes with a 4MB hard drive, and 512K of RAM.  Zooming fast, I know.
So hubs and I had a home computer, why I still don't know, but we did.  He
never used it and by the time I got home from work, I hated being around
the damn things, so I rarely used it.

Then one day, I hear two guys at work laughing about the Penthouse Guide
to Cybersex, and the light bulb went "bing" above my head.  So one day I
come home with a modem, spend a week getting the damn thing setup, and
then I dialed-in to a local adult BBS referenced by said Penthouse book.

Well girls, let me tell you--boring, argh!  This was just plain stupid.
But, I'd spent whatever ungodly amount I'd spent for that 1200 baud modem,
and so I was determined to stick with it.  So, I did.

Now I don't know about you, but having some anonymous jerk-off of a guy
type things to you like, "I gonna bend you over a sawhorse and fuck your
ass bloody," or, "yeah bitch, come to the bar meet on Friday and we'll
rape you."  I mean, c'mon!  It was like talking to a bunch of junior high
kiddies.

However, I kept at it, nonetheless.  I even "met" some people that were
just nice to correspond with--along with dodging the dickheads.  We talked
about kids, gardening, scuba diving, local traffic, work, but rarely ever
sex.  There was the occasional, "I really miss sex," comment from both the
married men and women in the public areas, but none of the randy carryings
on that I thought I'd signed up for.

I guess fuel for my fantasy journals (how I once wrote my stories...long
hand...yikes!) would need to come from someplace else.  Certainly, the BBS
community, and yes it was a community back then, wasn't going to give me
the satisfaction and inspiration I craved.

Then one night I'm chatting away and there are only three people in the
"room".  It was me, a guy, and another girl.  If I remember, we were
talking about the merits of Trinity Caves vs. Stingray City as dive sites
on Grand Cayman, all of us being Scuba divers.  I was rambling on, as I
have tendency to do, about how I liked to lay on my back and let the rays
swarm me.  A veritable fishy orgy, if you will.

Then, instead of a response calling me some sort of beastie perv, the next
line on the screen is, "Can we private?"

It wasn't from the guy; it was from the girl in the chat.  Heck, I just
figured she wanted to tell me that she does the same thing and didn't want
to catch any of our male counterpart's shit.

"Sure.  How do we do that?"

She setup the private chat, and within a few keystrokes, it was just her
and me.  Her screen name was MouseyPie, so I looked at the profile she'd
registered.  Nothing to unusual for the good old days...we were almost
honest back then.

F-Married-29-blonde-brown--5'10"--166 Lbs...

To make a long story short, we chatted, in private, about life in general
and such.  That is until...

"So what are you wearing tonight?"

"??"

"Is it something sexy?  I'm just in my black silk panties ;-)"

"You know I'm a woman?????"

"U don't cyber? :-( "

"But you're a woman"

"U never done it with a girl?"

"What? Sex?????  NO!"

"hehehehe...its fun U should try"

":-("

"sheesh...just try you might like it"

"I don't think so Mouse but thanks for asking"

And that, my friends, was that.  I didn't even log off; I just
disconnected and went straight to bed.

I hadn't thought of sex with women since college, and even then, those
thoughts were just an idle curiosity based on what was widely thought to
be taking place in the dorm between certain roommates.  Now please don't
get me wrong, I wasn't truly a homophobe, but just blissfully hetero.  So
in truth, the thought never really crossed my mind.  Not until MouseyPie
mentioned how much fun it was with girls did I ever give sex with another
woman consideration.

Well, guess what?  Me thinks me thinks too much, because within a couple
weeks I was logging on to the BBS wearing nothing but a bath robe and my
very own black silk panties.  I was hoping that I would catch MouseyPie
online so that I could ask her to show me how much fun "it" could be with
a girl.

Show me she did.  That first time was awkward and unsatisfying for the
both of us.  Soon enough though, we started to have fun.  It was strange
trying to picture her body and where I would touch, or could touch, and
how that translated to her stimulation.

"Mouse, do you touch yourself in the same places I describe?"

"Yessssss"

"What about kisses?  Ur neck, eyelids, inner thighs?"

"I just use my fingertips for kisses ;-)"

"Ok...I get it"

After a couple months, this became our routine, a completely unique form
of sex that was both safe and, eventually, satisfying.  So much so, that I
asked MouseyPie if she'd like to go to one of the bar meets the BBS
sponsored as a safe way to meet.  She said yes, that she'd love meeting
me!

The following Friday I told hubby that I was having a girls' nights out,
and not to expect me home until late.  He was ok with that, even going as
far as telling me that I "needed" more fun.  If he only knew what fun I
was thinking about, he may not have been so eager to see his wife getting
into that taxicab.

I was on pins and needles as I walked into that bar where Lance and
Ladyhawk (yes the same Lance from cum2oasis.com--he was much less the pimp
back then) were hosting their monthly bar meet for BBS members.  Boys
outnumbered girls by at least 3-to-1 in the small, cloistered group from
the BBS.  As nervous as I was, I just decided to sit at the
bar-not introducing myself to the larger BBS crowd--and wait for MouseyPie
to arrive; a white rose pinned to her blouse, as we had agreed.

She never showed.  After two hours of nursing a couple cocktails, I
quietly asked Ladyhawk (I recognized her from her pictures on the BBS) if
she had seen MouseyPie.  Ladyhawk was a bit confused as she didn't know me
from Adam, but soon enough we were chatting away through three rounds of
drinks.  She was really very nice, but every time I looked her in the eye,
all I saw was the vision of her with a dick in her mouth, like the
pictures Lance posted on the BBS.

Then she had an epiphany, "Oh, I know you, you're ScubaLady.  Have you met
Scotty and Susan yet?"

I know she was trying to be nice, make me comfortable and all, but as I
followed the line from her pointing finger, I about choked on my martini
as my eyes came to rest on two people that I'd know for years.  Well,
chicken-shit me, I all but ran out of the bar, not wanting anybody I knew
to see me waiting to meet my first lesbi fuck.

"Where were you?"  I demanded of MouseyPie the next time we were online
together, "I was there, and U stood me up"

"Im sorry couldn't get out of the house"

"U could've told me that might happen!!!!!!!"

"sorry"

I took her for her word, understanding that not all husbands are keen to
see their wife go gallivanting into the night.  So we cybered again--and
again--and again over the next few weeks, until I made a new suggestion to
meet...

"Do you want to have lunch tomorrow?"  I asked out of the blue, knowing
from our chats that we worked in close proximity.

"Sure!  Where?"

"How about that Irish place at the corner of X and Y street?"

"You devil...there's a no-tell motel right next door :-D"

"Maybe but lunch first"

"Lunch after?"

"First"

"Ok.  How will I know U?"

"I'll wear a sign that says IM GOING TO EAT PUSSY TODAY"

"LMAO"

"Just ask the hostess for ScubaLady"

"Ok"

"Around 1145?"

"Ok"

"I'm nervous...U?"

":-)"

There it was then; I was going to do the deed.  Well, that's what I was
prepared to do-the deed.  Me, a devoutly heterosexual, mostly church-going
woman, was about to meet a woman I'd carried on with online for months
with my ultimate intention of going down on her.

'Fuck me,' I thought as I logged-off from the mutual diddle session, 'you
are such a fucking slut!'

Now don't get me wrong-I was all "ready, set, go" for a bit of bi-sex.
But for real!  There I was a mother of a six and two year-old about to
venture out the next day to eat some stranger's cunt.  Damn, but was I
fucked, or what.

That whole morning at work, I just squirmed in my seat.  My mind was
replaying all of the rather graphic and crude cyber sessions typed-out
between MouseyPie and me.

"My tongue is tickling your asshole now," she would type across the
screen.

"Nobody has ever done the to me before," I typed back; my eyes closed; my
mind awash with pained pleasure as I thought about this mom, this woman so
the same as me, putting her mouth on me there.

That morning at my office, every minute was an eternity as I waited for
lunchtime to arrive.  "The waiting is the hardest part," is I think how
Tom Petty put it.  Yeah, no frickin' doubt buddy!  I clenched and squirmed
and covertly rubbed until 11:30 when I skulked out of my office to meet my
online lover.

I felt some security in the crowds of office workers beginning to venture
out for their noon meal.  During the ten minute walk from my office to the
restaurant, I had time to get serious about what my mind had planned for
latter in the day.  Every time I felt on the verge of turning around and
heading back to the office, those "serious" thoughts I was having flew
right out the window when other, more lustful thoughts invaded my head.
Truly, I hadn't felt this naughty and adventurous since I lost my
virginity over twelve years earlier.

Before I knew it, I had arrived.  I stood outside the front door of the
eatery, meekly scanning the crowd for people I knew; praying that my
emotional or sexual state wasn't outwardly apparent.  Then, before I could
talk myself out of it, I went inside.  The lunch crowd was just starting
to arrive, so no waiting for a table.

"How many?" the hostess asked.

"Two, there will be two of us," I said.

The young hostess showed me to a table in a quiet corner.  "Would you like
something to drink?"

"Iced tea please," I said, then I quickly added, "When somebody asks for
ScubaLady, that's me."

"Oh," hostess girl peeped, "I think your party is waiting for you in the
bar.  I'll go get her."

I guess MouseyPie was even more anxious than I was.  Frankly, I hoped to
have a few minutes to collect my nerves before she arrived, well, so much
for plans.  I briefly checked to see if I was put together and presentable
and then waited for Mouse.

>From across the room I could see the hostess pointing towards me, so I
brightened-up, smiling, no, grinning as I waited to see whomever she was
speaking with step from around the corner.  My heart was pounding; my mind
was racing, as I anticipated seeing that pretty woman who'd typed all
those wonderfully disgusting things to me over the past many months.  And
I waited...

Who-or what appeared was not my MouseyPie.  She couldn't be, just couldn't
be the woman I'd been carrying on with.  'No, not her,' I thought as my
heart sank into the pit of my stomach.

I was expecting one of the myriad throng of anonymous worker-bees that
inhabited this part of town during the daylight hours.  You know the type:
ten pounds overweight, the shoulder-length streaked blonde hair, the look
of work-a-day mediocrity plastered to their face.  That's what I expected,
but instead, I got Alice the Goon.  She was Janet Reno on
steroids.  And girl, if that was 29, then I'd hate to see her at 59.

Before I could flee or barf or whatever other thing I could do to not have
to meet her, she was there before me, towering over me.

'Christ,' I thought, 'she must be 6' 7" tall.'

"Hi ScubaLady?" she said in a voice so high-pitched that I almost laughed.

She was a walking, talking contradiction.  Everything about her just plain
didn't match: not her height, not her body, not her feet, nor her hands.
One part was large and another tiny.  She was built like a linebacker, and
then spoke like a grade school cheerleader.

"Mouse?" I asked.

I could see that she instantly understood my shock and disappointment with
her appearance.  Her look told me that she'd been here before; that she's
lied before only to have a prospective lover reject her.  But hell, what
did she think would happen.  Why on earth go to all that trouble, through
all that fantasy and play.

Then it hit me like a Mac truck plowing through school kids in a
crosswalk.  The things that I'd said to her-those fantasies...

"Do you like the way I taste tonight slut?" she typed to me.

"Oh God yes," I'd respond while repeatedly dipping my fingers into my
slick goo and then licking them clean.  "Wipe your cunt all over my
face...I want to wear you to bed tonight."

How many times had I said things like that, or worse, to this, this
creature?  How much of my sexual soul did I let pour out across that
computer screen late at night while my husband and kids slept only a few
feet away.

"Why did you lie to me Mouse?" I asked as the disgust and self-loathing
grew into a lump of bile rapidly ascending from my belly.

That freak-show of a human started to explain, but I didn't listen.  God I
wanted to scream bloody murder at her.  I wanted to reach out and smack
her right across her distorted face.  I didn't do either though; I just
sat there staring at her as she tried to laugh-off her deception.

"...but we're here now," she said in that ridiculous child-like voice.

As if just being there constituted some acceptance on my part to carry
this farce any further.  "What?  You think I..."

She reached inside her blazer and squeezed her breast while leaning closer
to me and whispering, "I still want to be rough with your tits.  That's
what you want right?"

"I'm going to be ill," was all I managed as I grabbed my purse and ran for
the door.

I never looked back.  Inside the taxi back to my office, I cried.  Mostly
I cried at my own lack of judgment and good sense for ever staring this
adventure.  But, I also cried that my delightful fantasy had been
shattered.

I never did make it back to the office that afternoon.  Feeling disgusted
and betrayed, I got in my car and drove home where I spent the rest of the
afternoon being sick.  My husband was confused when I called and asked him
to pickup our youngest from the babysitter.

"Alright Honey," he said, "are you sure you're ok though, you sound
strange."

Later that night, after my family was asleep, instead of logging onto the
BBS and chatting, I disconnected the modem.  I felt some pity for
MouseyPie, but not much.  Mostly I came back to reality: I was a wife and
mother.

"Bob," I whispered to my husband as I crawled under the cool sheets, "I
need you to fuck me really hard tonight.  Bob?  Bob?"

There was just his light snoring from the other side of our bed.

'Maybe tomorrow I'll find another BBS,' I thought as I drifted to sleep,
'and I'll never ever meet them.'


---End of My First Time (A True Story)---

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suzy999999@yahoo.com
Copyright 2004 Suzy Suburbanite, USA