-
Lesbian Stories
-
Lesbian Female / 29
Leslie Knew The Day She Met Me
While my sister was making babies I was getting my Master's in Accounting at a top tier University. I was picked up by a top tier accounting firm and passed my exam on the first try. On the way to a clients the man driving grabbed my thigh. I reacted. He snapped back 'be nice'. I wasn't nice and I was held back because I had poor 'client skills'.
I was essentially kicked out, went to a large industrial company, had trouble with the atmosphere and felt miserable. I went to therapy. It got cruel. 26 and virgin, there's your problem. Get laid, suck dick. If you can't manage that get a dyke to fuck you like a cheap whore. And if you can't manage that get a nine inch dildo and fuck your 'c**t' with it. Your a repressed half woman, but you don't wear a dick so get over it. Your welcome and come back after get fucked.
Well, it was more 'clinical' but that was her message.
A few weeks later I got a card in the mail, s handwritten note from the therapist. She invited me to join her and friends at a girl's night happy hour. Yours, Leslie.
I went. She welcomed me, introduced me to Karla. Pushed me on Karla. Now you all get out there and get to know each other. It was a set up. Karla wasn't nice, she was anything but nice, and she used a nine inch dildo on me. Either that, or get laid by a motorcycle gang member. I preferred Karla.
Somehow it stuck. Face down, face up, on my knees between her legs. There were moments of second thoughts but there was really only one thought for me. Once broken, your only thoughts are for the one that broke you.
I never did take the gang member advise seriously. I never thought I'd be the one washing the dishes. Leslie, I call my therapist Leslie, is my enabler. Karla likes me enough, enough to keep me.
I was essentially kicked out, went to a large industrial company, had trouble with the atmosphere and felt miserable. I went to therapy. It got cruel. 26 and virgin, there's your problem. Get laid, suck dick. If you can't manage that get a dyke to fuck you like a cheap whore. And if you can't manage that get a nine inch dildo and fuck your 'c**t' with it. Your a repressed half woman, but you don't wear a dick so get over it. Your welcome and come back after get fucked.
Well, it was more 'clinical' but that was her message.
A few weeks later I got a card in the mail, s handwritten note from the therapist. She invited me to join her and friends at a girl's night happy hour. Yours, Leslie.
I went. She welcomed me, introduced me to Karla. Pushed me on Karla. Now you all get out there and get to know each other. It was a set up. Karla wasn't nice, she was anything but nice, and she used a nine inch dildo on me. Either that, or get laid by a motorcycle gang member. I preferred Karla.
Somehow it stuck. Face down, face up, on my knees between her legs. There were moments of second thoughts but there was really only one thought for me. Once broken, your only thoughts are for the one that broke you.
I never did take the gang member advise seriously. I never thought I'd be the one washing the dishes. Leslie, I call my therapist Leslie, is my enabler. Karla likes me enough, enough to keep me.
