by Lisa Young
Out And Proud
By:
Lisa Young
Yellow Rose Books
Copyright © 2018 by Lisa Young
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The characters, incidents and dialogue herein are fictional and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
ISBN 978-1-61929-392-2
eISBN 978-1-61929-393-9
First Edition 2018
9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Cover design by AcornGraphics
Published by:
Regal Crest Enterprises
Find us on the World Wide Web at http://www.regalcrest.biz
Published in the United States of America
Acknowledgments
I would like to offer my heartfelt thanks to Cathy Bryerose of Regal Crest Enterprises. Thank you for believing in me and allowing me the opportunity to fulfill my childhood dream of becoming a published writer.
To Sheena Billett, my first editor, thank you for your enduring support and patience throughout the initial editing process of the manuscript. You are truly talented and your advice and guidance helped me to grow as a new writer. I now consider you a lifelong friend.
My gratitude to Ann McMan, the talented graphic designer responsible for my book cover, and to the inspirational Nat Burns, my book editor, for your words of wisdom and kind praise during the final editing process.
Thanks, and love, to my friends who endured endless discussions about my characters and the plot of this book, especially Victoria Burrows. Your faith and encouragement have helped me more than you will ever know. Special thanks to Emma Allcock, my greatest supporter and to Marie Bower for the inspirational wedding speech.
My love and respect goes to Sam Jenkins, a great friend and the talented designer of my website lisayoungauthor.com.
Special thanks goes to my sons, Oliver and Sam. You have, and continue to be, a daily inspiration to me both in my writing and as I watch you develop into the phenomenal men you are becoming. You both live in my heart daily.
Lastly, but most importantly, I would like to give a special mention to my amazing wife, Lucy. This journey began when you finally pushed me out of my comfort zone, in front of my computer and with the promise of an endless supply of whisky while we holidayed in that sweet cottage in Pennan. You believed I could do this long before I did and you were right. We completed this journey together. You held me steady and pushed me past the inevitable writer’s block. You are the inspiration for this book and I am so honoured to have created this story with you. This book, quite simply, could not have happened without you. I love you always.
Dedication
I dedicate this book to all those women who have found the courage to become their true selves, and to all of those who are embarking upon their journey.
Part One
New Experiences
POISED ABOVE HER girlfriend and trembling with anticipation, a single bead of sweat trickled down Lottie’s flushed face. Trying to look confident and hoping to exude an air of sexual dominance, she leaned forward and immediately became aware of the elastic waistband of the strap-on cutting uncomfortably into her sides. Pausing for a moment, she wriggled and adjusted the strap slightly, her discomfort only serving as a reminder of the newness of this experience. She inadvertently held her breath.
My first strap-on lesbian sex ever. Here goes!
Her girlfriend, Alice, appeared to be swept up in the moment as she parted her legs slightly and looked towards Lottie, her eyes hooded with lust. Encouraged, Lottie gently lowered herself until their breasts brushed. A delicious thrill of anticipation tingled up her spine.
With a committed thrust, Lottie aimed blindly with the strap-on until she felt the plastic protrusion make contact with Alice’s body.
“Ouch!” exclaimed Alice.
Oblivious to her partner’s protestations, Lottie’s brow furrowed with concentration as she lunged forward once again, confident she was now inside the object of her desire. Below her Alice had frozen, causing Lottie to pause as she belatedly registered Alice’s cry of pain. Lottie hadn’t expected that reaction. Too rough maybe?
Unsure of what might have provoked the pained squeal, she decided to try and cover her inexperience with a confident smile. Once again, she thrust blindly forward, her smile widening with the expectation of the pleasure she was undoubtedly delivering to the delicious Alice. Gaining some momentum, she inwardly high-fived herself, she hadn’t thought it would be so easy! Alice writhed beneath her in what, Lottie concluded, could only be spasms of ecstasy.
EARLIER THAT DAY, Lottie had sought advice from an online website, dearpru.com. She had joined the lesbian site some months previously, looking for support on the journey to release her inner lesbian at the grand age of thirty-nine.
Through the awkward, early months of dating women, Lottie had gained some invaluable advice from an online guru, who claimed to have vast experience in affairs of the lesbian heart. Prudence had strongly advised Lottie that there was no need to confess to Alice that she had limited experience with lesbian sex, or that she had never used sex toys. Lottie had felt this was somewhat dishonest, but Prudence had reminded her of the importance of presenting a front of sexual confidence, particularly in lesbian relationships, where aloofness was considered attractive. Lottie had to agree that showing her sexual inexperience was likely to be off-putting for Alice, who, no doubt had a lifetime of steamy lesbian encounters.
Prudence had been somewhat disparaging about Lottie’s late coming out, and she had commented that she now needed to embrace wholeheartedly her true self. Lottie was still discovering who her true self was, but she had appreciated the sentiment. With no gay friends, other than Virginia, a recently acquired work acquaintance, and little in the way of sympathetic confidantes, Lottie had relied heavily on the advice of Prudence.
Pru, as she liked to be called by her clients, prided herself on her mature years and claimed to have a number of professional qualifications in counselling and holistic therapies. She plied her services through her website where visitors could receive help and advice. She also ran a group for those who wished to meet up, but Lottie had avoided this so far. Having finally been able to accept her inner lesbian, Lottie had regularly accessed the site to request advice on the variety of dating dilemmas she encountered during her coming out process. As a mother of two children and previously married, coming out in later life had proved to be an embarrassing and difficult experience for her.
“STOP! STOP! STOP, Lottie!” Alice frantically wriggled away from the protrusion and pounded wildly on Lottie’s back.
Lottie could not help but feel a smattering of irritation at being halted in her stride, convinced she had been developing a steady rhythm.
Alice continued to struggle in a bid to get Lottie to stop. “You’re heading to the wrong hole, Lots, wrong hole!”
Hearing those words, Lottie was horrified and froze mid-stroke. Oh my God, wrong hole? Surely not! Hastily pulling away the tool of intended pleasure, she made eye contact with Alice who was clawing her way up the bed to a sitting position. Lottie realised that the way Alice was looking at her was less than lustful. Reaching down to her delicate area, Alice tentatively checked herself to ensure her perineum had remained intact. Establishing that all was well, she slumped forward onto a pillow and burst into an uncontrollable bout of laughter.
Large tears rolled down both of her cheeks as she tried, and failed, to find her words. Instead she pointed at Lo
ttie shaking her finger towards the now ludicrously wobbling plastic penis, which was still attached to the shamed Lottie. “Christ, Lottie, you’ve turned it into a weapon of mass destruction. Go steady with that thing, will you?”
Lottie glanced past Alice and noted a shiny wet nose and two soft brown eyes peering hopefully at the side of the bed. Odie, Alice’s dachshund, was attempting to indicate his interest in getting onto the bed, oblivious to the disaster unfolding in his mistress’s boudoir. His stubby legs provided insufficient jumping power to assist him in his desire to nuzzle down into the comfort of the thick duvet, which was his only self-interested aim.
Following Lottie’s gaze, Alice spotted the interloper and swatted at him with her free hand. “Go away, Odie. Go and find your bone!”
Odie reluctantly took the hint and loped back to his bed in the corner.
Lottie had to admit she felt more than a little shocked by her shoddy aim, which was clearly hindering her virgin attempt to master the strap-on. She felt a pang of regret that she hadn’t been more honest with Alice about her lack of experience with sex toys when they’d been discussing them earlier that evening. Somewhere, between the first bottle of intoxicating Pinot and the second, she had felt that she could handle pretty much anything new that was thrown at her, so strong was her sexual chemistry with Alice. Although it was only their second date, the intimate setting of Alice’s plush pad and the casual nature of their conversation had inevitably set the scene for a sexually charged encounter. Alice, who clearly wasn’t a heavy drinker, was more than a little giddy as she had introduced the subject of Lottie’s sexual experiences with other women. Lottie, as she discovered Alice’s interest in all things plastic and vibrating, had given a vastly inflated account of her knowledge of lesbian sex toys.
As the evening had progressed, with much assistance from alcohol, both Alice and Lottie knew they had a mutual interest in one another. Lottie felt that this was an interest not solely reliant on their obvious sexual chemistry. She was overwhelmed with excitement, and marvelled at how strongly connected she felt to Alice. Alice was a confident, always been out lesbian, who had a few serious relationships under her belt. From their discussions, Lottie knew that Alice wasn’t desperate for a relationship and was simply relishing her position in the small rural community as the local veterinarian.
Lottie’s observations to date found Alice to be intelligent, with an easy sophistication, and a slender boyish figure. Her hair was the traditional lesbian spike, dark with delicate flecks of ginger, betraying her Highland heritage. Lottie, by contrast, was two years older and had the more squishy body type one would expect after two pregnancies, but she was still proud of her pert bosom. She lacked Alice’s confidence, partly due to her previous thirty-nine years as a closeted lesbian. What they both shared however, was a phenomenal sense of humour for all things inappropriate. In the many phone calls preceding this second date they had spent hours sharing their stories and dreams. Both Alice and Lottie had a strong desire for a stable and honest relationship and this was the foundation on which they had met for their second date.
When the effect of the wine wore off, Lottie acquired a sober perspective of her failed sexual prowess. She had so desperately wished that this would be a night that Alice would not forget, but for reasons of passion rather than possible anal penetration. Although she’d made a hash of her first attempt, she remained stoically undeterred.
She moved forward towards Alice for a second time. In her head, Lottie was trying to stem the flow of self-doubt, but she couldn’t help noticing that Alice’s expression was one of sheepish distrust—not the lustful look that Lottie had hoped to inspire. Lottie breathed deeply in an attempt to steady her nerve and tried to recreate the moment. Anxious to make a better job of it this time, Lottie wisely used her hand to locate the correct hole. Please God, don’t let me make that mistake again, she silently begged. Tentatively, she aimed the tool and entered Alice.
It felt right. Was it the right target?
She noticed that Alice was groaning and was giving her a look of encouragement as her head lolled backward.
Lottie steadied herself in readiness. I’m in. Let’s do this!
She ground her hips with renewed vigour as she tried to anticipate the direction of the cold hard plastic piece that was a newly acquired limb of her body. How on earth do people know how to control this thing? If she had to describe it to a stranger she would say that it reminded her of lying on her own arm for too long and then trying to tie her shoelaces. Virtually impossible.
With a renewed mental effort, she brought her mind back to the job at hand. It’s all about the rhythm, she counselled herself as she gradually gained confidence and built up to a faster pace. Alice lay motionless beneath her, but it was difficult for Lottie to gauge her performance while trying to manage her exertion, as she became increasingly breathless. She had hoped for a more enthusiastic reaction but was glad of the stillness while she worked hard to establish a regular motion.
Several moments had passed before Lottie realised she’d been holding her breath. Suddenly, desperate for air, she let out a loud gasp. Aware that her panting was less than sexy she attempted to stifle her desperation to suck air into her lungs. At the same time, she realised that a heavy sheen of sweat was collecting on her forehead, running down her face and gathering between her pert breasts. Determined not to show Alice the huge effort she was making, Lottie tried to steady her breathing, but to no avail as the sheen of sweat quickly became a stream flowing freely between her breasts and down the crevice of her back as she continued to pound away.
After a few more moments, she could no longer contain her desperate need to breathe. Alice, meanwhile, was eying her with undisguised curiosity. Lottie smiled with what she hoped was reassurance, but she was also becoming aware that her heart was pounding and her breath was rasping. She finally collapsed in an undignified heap over the naked body of Alice, who had once again been overtaken by a fit of uncontrollable giggling.
With spittle flying out of her mouth, Alice cried with undisguised amusement. “Oh, Lottie, why didn’t you tell me you’re a strap-on virgin?”
A gentle shiver of horror crept across Lottie’s mortified face, as she debated continuing her ruse of a sexually experienced woman. Alice grinned at her with fondness and amusement, and Lottie realised the game was up. Shrugging, she signalled defeat. Alice smiled back at Lottie as she took off the plastic weapon of mass destruction, which she threw to the floor with a sigh of resignation. Lottie caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored wardrobe door and realised with horror that she looked as if she had run a marathon. Her face was tomato red and her short blonde hair shot out wildly in all directions, as if she’d had a thousand volts coursing through her body. She couldn’t help but smile as she looked at the caricature of her once dignified self.
Meanwhile, hearing the dull thud of plastic hitting the laminate floor, Odie skittered excitedly back to the edge of the bed and eyed them with a considerable degree of undisguised suspicion, before he settled himself down next to the strap-on which he started to chew.
“No, Odie!” they both shouted in unison, as Alice leapt from the bed to remove the offending article before gently chastising the dog.
Looking more than a little put out, Odie emitted a disgruntled yelp, before exiting the room to a round of fresh laughter from the now hysterical pair.
Man Predator
THE NEXT DAY at work, Lottie was finding it hard to concentrate as she waited impatiently for her break. She worked as a call centre operative for the local newspaper, the Fraserburgh Guardian in Aberdeenshire, Scotland, and the day was turning out to be particularly busy with a flurry of calls, as the public celebrated or commiserated their life events in various advertising columns. Lottie was glad that the events of the preceding evening remained firmly in the private domain, but she was finding it impossibly hard to concentrate on her work as she was bombarded with embarrassing flashbacks.
After getting home in the early hours, Lottie had sought counsel from Dear Pru. She had posted a question asking whether she should be instigating a discussion with Alice about her disastrous attempt with the strap-on, or whether she should try to ignore it and hope that things would move on naturally. Given Pru’s advanced years, Lottie felt a certain sense of reluctance in asking about her technique with sex toys, feeling that it was somehow disrespectful. But then again, Pru was a self-proclaimed expert in all areas of relationships, or so she loudly and proudly stated on her website. She also reminded her readers, frequently, that she was an experienced counsellor, and so Lottie consoled herself with the thought it was probably something Pru would have heard on many occasions. Between calls, Lottie impatiently checked her phone, and noted that there were no responses to date.
While she waited for the clock to hit the golden hour and the arrival of her break, she was flooded with renewed anxiety. She comforted herself with the knowledge that, aside from the past night’s humiliation, she had tried hard to embrace her inner lesbian since she finally came out a year ago. Lottie had wholeheartedly thrown herself into the dating pool. With the encouragement of her friend Mel, she had registered on several gay dating websites and had familiarised herself with the gay club scene in Aberdeen. There had been varying degrees of embarrassment, which Lottie preferred not to recall, as she had experimented with a procession of casual partners. However, she took some reassurance at her progress since the earlier days of inexperienced fumbling, as she had expanded her knowledge and technique as a lover of women. Lottie had lost her lesbian virginity to a kind and generous, but nameless, sexual partner in whom she had been able to confide her inexperience. Nevertheless, this latest debacle with Alice felt like a significant setback and it served as a reminder to her that she was very much a late comer to this party.