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Lesbian Stories
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Lesbian Female / 53
Finding Love
At the time I was the CFO of a manufacturing business. We hired a mid forties female GC with experience in product liability. She was 'small', about 5' 3". For Christmas she had a get together at her house for family and friends. She invited me.
I didn't know anyone there, except for her. I wandered around, down a hall. There were a series of black and white pictures of her, ballet pictures when she was young. One amongst them, in a classic pose, but nude, nothing explicit except she was naked. Her small breast and dark nipples, her totally nude pussy lips, so clearly visible.
In her living room I picked up a book, a coffee table book, a ballet book. There were pictures of her, with the Washington Ballet. I spent some time with the book. She walked up to me and commented it was all another life. I asked her what turned her from ballet to law, she said only that her love was a lawyer, so she followed suit.
She took my arm and walked me back to her bedroom, she let me gaze on a picture of two young women, arm in arm under the Eiffel tower. She held the picture and told me she had lost her to cancer, ovarian cancer at 32. She looked into my eyes, asked if I minded, that the love of her life was a woman.
That night, she asked me to help her clean and pick up. To get the house in order, to spend the night. She stripped down to her panties, asked me to kiss her lips, the lips in her panties, while she massaged her breasts with her hands. Her eyes caught mine, we went to the bedroom to undress, to run a hot bath, to kiss and touch, to discover who she was. Lovemaking in the bed was normal, nothing kinky or weird, just lovemaking, letting our bodies find their way.
Love happens when you least expect it. My favorite photograph of her is her ballet pose in the nude. I never knew her then, she belonged to another woman then, but now she belongs to me.
I didn't know anyone there, except for her. I wandered around, down a hall. There were a series of black and white pictures of her, ballet pictures when she was young. One amongst them, in a classic pose, but nude, nothing explicit except she was naked. Her small breast and dark nipples, her totally nude pussy lips, so clearly visible.
In her living room I picked up a book, a coffee table book, a ballet book. There were pictures of her, with the Washington Ballet. I spent some time with the book. She walked up to me and commented it was all another life. I asked her what turned her from ballet to law, she said only that her love was a lawyer, so she followed suit.
She took my arm and walked me back to her bedroom, she let me gaze on a picture of two young women, arm in arm under the Eiffel tower. She held the picture and told me she had lost her to cancer, ovarian cancer at 32. She looked into my eyes, asked if I minded, that the love of her life was a woman.
That night, she asked me to help her clean and pick up. To get the house in order, to spend the night. She stripped down to her panties, asked me to kiss her lips, the lips in her panties, while she massaged her breasts with her hands. Her eyes caught mine, we went to the bedroom to undress, to run a hot bath, to kiss and touch, to discover who she was. Lovemaking in the bed was normal, nothing kinky or weird, just lovemaking, letting our bodies find their way.
Love happens when you least expect it. My favorite photograph of her is her ballet pose in the nude. I never knew her then, she belonged to another woman then, but now she belongs to me.
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