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Lesbian Stories
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Lesbian Female / 30
I Love My 'sister' And Let Her Know Every Day
I went to a coworker's birthday lunch and sat beside a rather flaky artist girl. I was surprised to learn that she was gay and had a three year old and kept calling me 'sister'. Being an auditor I asked lots of questions, like did she call every woman she met 'sister'. Well, no, she called me 'sister' because I was my coworker's love interest. And how did she know that? Because he told her, the one night he has sex with me. He went straight to her to tell her. And who was she that he went to see her right after he left my apartment? Well she was his girlfriend, she had his son. Well wasn't she a lesbian? Yes, she was but now she was his girlfriend. And she called me 'sister' because I had sex with her boyfriend? Well yes, we were now sisters.
I know artists have an indirect line of reasoning, I am a CPA, an auditor and a one time only coworker thing, and I could not wrap my mind around him leaving my apartment to go straight to her and tell her he had sex with me and she was okay about it and was now my sister. I have a real sister and she doesn't hold me by the neck, hang on me, grab my hand, tell me her most intimate things the minute we start talking.
But my brain is not strong enough to reject what my heart feels. I lost my head once with my coworker, I have now lost my heart to my flaky 'sister'. Three years on and my heart skips a beat when I hear her voice, when she touches my arm, when she smiles.
I know artists have an indirect line of reasoning, I am a CPA, an auditor and a one time only coworker thing, and I could not wrap my mind around him leaving my apartment to go straight to her and tell her he had sex with me and she was okay about it and was now my sister. I have a real sister and she doesn't hold me by the neck, hang on me, grab my hand, tell me her most intimate things the minute we start talking.
But my brain is not strong enough to reject what my heart feels. I lost my head once with my coworker, I have now lost my heart to my flaky 'sister'. Three years on and my heart skips a beat when I hear her voice, when she touches my arm, when she smiles.