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Strange Approach to Lesbianism

Piano teacher, strange approach to lesbianism

I’ve been taking piano lessons from Helen forever. Well, actually, ten years, since I was eight years old. I want to be like her someday. Helen earns a nice living at $60/hour teaching kids, and adults.

I already have some students. I love a genre called ‘Roadhouse Boogie,’ but can also play and teach jazz and classical. In fact, I like most types of music. But what I really enjoy is imparting a can-do attitude on my students that comes with learning music. I also like the interaction. One gets to know one’s students, and it’s almost like having a large and wonderful family.

Helen is like a mother to me. She kind of looks like a 30-something version Meg Ryan, with shortish, curly dark blond hair, a thin body, a very thin neck, and rather large boobs.

Me, I’m Hawaiian, through and through, although people who don’t know any better have mistaken me for Korean, Japanese, Sumoan, even Chinese, if you can believe it. I keep my shiny black hair really long. I can almost sit on it.

Even though I’m already a pretty good pianist, I still take lessons from Helen. These days, the lessons are more about business coaching in the world of teaching piano.

I find Helen rather attractive, and I have a feeling she kind of likes me. I mean, to see her eyes sparkle when she looks at me sometimes. Well, I like that. I never thought of myself as lesbian or anything. Yet, dare I admit, I have masturbated with her in my mind at times.

We’ve talked about everything. She knows about my family situation, and I know hers.

So, it wasn’t too much of a personal stretch the other day when I brought up my little problem. For the past couple of months, I’ve been constipated.

She just came out and told me I have to eat less junk food, especially sugary things. She said I have to cultivate an enjoyment of salad. I didn’t really want to hear that, and I’m sure she knew, because she then rocked back on her piano bench the way she does, looked me right in the eye, and then… hesitated.

“OK,” she said, “I don’t know whether I should tell you this…”

“What?”

“Well, uh… I read an account recently about a man who claimed to his girlfriend-to-be that a finger pressed into the anus brings temporary relief from constipation.”

I don’t know why, but I found just hearing that terribly embarrassing. Was I embarrassed for her, having brought up such an intimate thought? Or, was I embarrassed for me for some reason?

The discussion soon turned back to business, and that was that.

However, the thought rattled around in my head for a few days. The idea of Helen sticking a finger in my ass brought instant chills to me, and I had to go in the bathroom and give myself an orgasm more than once.

At our next meeting, Helen asked whether I was eating better, and how my constipation was coming along. I had to admit that I was still hooked on eating cereal in the morning, sandwiches for lunch, and so on. I was still constipated. However, the line of questioning caused shivers in me, and I couldn’t resist asking, “Hey Helen, can you tell me more about the finger in the anus thing?”

“Does that sound like something that might be useful?”

“Actually, maybe… yes, yes I think it might be helpful.”

“Would you like me to help you with that?”

Oh, my god! As soon as she asked, my heart leapt into my throat and started beating a hundred miles an hour. I’m sure I blushed big-time.

“Um…”

I realized I couldn’t even complete a sentence. Couldn’t even work out the thought. I would love to experience such a thing, but dare I admit it?

Realizing I had paused for a long time, I rushed to form a complete sentence. “I suppose it might be worth a try.”

Then editing myself out of some sort of worry that I had said something really bad, and at the same time not wanting to kill a possibility that this could really happen, I added, “I mean, this constipation is really quite annoying, and well, maybe, well, I think it might be… yes… a good thing, I think.”

Unfortunately, Helen had students all day. She invited me to return to her house at six that evening. I can tell you, I was full of springs all day. I could hardly think straight. It just seemed like forever for 6pm to roll along.

Finally, there I was in her living room. She said, “Let’s go through to my bedroom. I think we’ll be more comfortable there.”

Once in her room, after a long and uncomfortable hesitation, Helen said, “OK, let’s just do this. No fanfare is necessary. Why don’t you take off your clothes?”

“All of them?”

“Well, you could just pull down your knickers, but that seems kind of inelegant, don’t you think?”

After some more hesitation and awkward small talk, I found myself fully naked in Helen’s presence. I also found myself shivering, although it was actually warm in her bedroom. Helen, meanwhile, was fully clothed.

I was kind of embarrassed about my small breasts, and the fact that I keep my pussy hairless. I also didn’t want to seem too eager, for some crazy reason. And yet…

“You know…” I began, with my voice actually shaky, “I’d be more comfortable if wasn’t the only naked person here,” and I tried to laugh.

“Ah, I understand. Furthermore I was hoping you’d ask.”

At this point, I knew we were BOTH too far gone to turn back. We had both essentially admitted to each other that we’d like to do what it was obvious that we were going to do.

Helen stripped, and I have to say, that woman has the most beautiful breasts I have ever seen. Very white, full, heavy, hanging down against her chest, with big nipples, Oh my! She turned at one point, and her ass was to die for. I guess I find white people very attractive, or at least Helen sure was.

I found myself face down on Helen’s bed. She had me spread my legs wide so she’d have access to my asshole. Evidently, she had prepared for this, because she had some coconut oil, which she spread on her finger. I felt the gentlest and slightly cold touch against my anus itself. The very center of my being in my opinion. My, did that feel great! If nothing else had happened, I’d have a memory to masturbate to for years to come.

But much more did happen. True to her word, Helen worked her finger deep, really deep, into my rectum, and it felt so good that I was wetting her bed with the juices flowing from my vagina. I orgasmed. I tried, mostly unsuccessfully to suppress a moan.

Helen laughed good-naturedly. “Was that an orgasm?”

“I’m afraid so,” I squeaked out as I was coming down from the sexual high.

“Do you want more?” Helen asked, even though she didn’t wait for an answer. That delicious finger of hers started pushing in and out only about 1/4-inch. I was so sexually high at that point, I couldn’t even speak. I was just like, “Ummmm, ohhhh.”

“I hope this isn’t too intimate,” she said, and with that, she managed to place another finger in my very wet and slippery pussy. Orgasm city!

I had, never in my life had more than one orgasm at a time. This was the first occasion where it was just orgasm after orgasm.

When things finally died down, she withdrew her fingers very slowly. The one in my ass seemed super-long as it kept coming out for what seemed a very long time.

I rolled over on the bed to face Helen. She climbed on top of me, embracing me in the best hug of my life, and then she started kissing me.

Who knew? I mean, up until then, I had the occasional random thoughts of a sexual nature with Helen, but men had been in my sex fantasies also.

As the weeks went by, Helen and I played often. It’s true that eating better cures constipation. Or maybe it was the repeated butt-fingering. I did the same for her, even though she wasn’t constipated. I did much more for her too. She taught me how to really be a woman, with all it’s sexual context.

At first, I worried about this lesbian ‘thing’ quite a bit. I couldn’t even bring myself to say the word ‘lesbian.’ I watched a couple of Netflix movies involving homosexual women, and didn’t really care for them. But in time, I came first to reconcile being lesbian, and then to embrace it. A year later, I was a major LGBT advocate.

I was scared to death when I finally came out to my parents. It was needless. My dad just went, “Hmpf,” the way he does when he learns something that doesn’t particularly interest him. My mother was more verbose saying that both of them knew for quite some time that I’d probably be interested in girls. Evidently, they were totally fine with it.

Just last week on my birthday, Helen had a huge surprise for me. Her brother was at her house. I had met him before. He’s a big, strapping police officer.

With the two of them smiling at me in a certain way, and the way they were carrying on, it was soon obvious to me what they were planning. More than once I had told Helen that I wondered what it would be like fucking a guy. She had tried to give me the effect with a hairbrush handle, and then a soft dildo she bought on Ebay, but I kind of wanted to experience the real thing.

That evening I lost my virginity. On the one hand, I was rather intimidated by his massiveness, his hairy body. On the other hand, I have to say, having your vagina, your body, spread wide and filled with a penis is a super fulfilling feeling. Helen sat there rubbing herself to orgasms as she watched me and her brother getting it on. I love Helen!

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best sex toys ever
Sex Toys - Ordinary to Totally Bizarre!