Almost Blinded to Love

by A. Mistory

"Will you let me fuck you too?" she asked hopefully.

  "If you want to," I said, my voice muffled by her breast.

  "Christ, yes. I'd love to fuck you right now."

  She didn't. I painted her for while longer that evening, then a great part of the next day, and finished on Sunday. Yes, Myra stayed the weekend, and we ate each other silly in between times, but I mostly it was eating her. I was so happy, and hoped that this would last. Really last. But I never stopped to think about it, how we did get together, that it was all sex. Just sex, but damned good sex.

  When the painting was done, Myra loved it.

  "We have to let it dry, then I'll frame it, okay?"

  "Yeah, sure," she said, happy with it.

  Chapter 2

  That next weekend Myra moved in with me. It was as sex-filled as any weekend. Myra brought her strap-on. I really wasn't crazy about the prospect of being fucked, but I would let her, especially since Myra let me have my fill of her pussy the way she knew I loved, both before she fucked me, and afterwards too.

  Satisfied after Myra let me eat her for the longest time, I was shocked that she wanted to fuck me right away. I'd never been with anyone who was so sexually demanding, or needing, as the case may be. Myra didn't really demand, so I guess it was just a great need with her. What I'm leading to is how shocked I was when she began. I'd been fucked before, and also fucked my lover with a strap-on, but she was so into it, and that quickly translated into endless orgasms for me. Soon I found myself begging her to keep fucking me, and harder.

  Myra was glad to oblige, and made it heavenly for me, often reaching down and around to caress and tease my breasts, or pull my nipples, sometimes lovingly, other times ruthlessly. Myra was very into sensing my present state, what I would like at the moment. She was good at recognizing what I’d really love to feel, and when. When she'd finished fucking my pussy until it felt raw, she kindly let me rest a moment, then kissing me, fed me her pussy again much as a mother might feed her distraught baby her nipple. When we had ended it, she had virtually washed my face with her juices. I wondered at how much of her love juices I'd drunk, but knew it was loads, she loved sex so much.

  Nine months of pure sex! Damn! That had been so bodily sweet. There was no doubt that I loved it, and my body more so. When she finally asked, I let Myra fuck my ass, but only after she coaxed me with a promise of being very careful, and that I’d love it, and that there were nerves there that I had no idea I had, and they were delicious to feel, and I’d be begging her to fuck my ass over and over.

  Fool! I let her, but she was right. She was gentle, and I did love it. Damn, I loved it a lot, and more so when she introduced me to another little trick she had, and that was the second dildo, but up my pussy. She had me screaming.

  Still, when it was all said and done, it was still her pussy that I wanted, and I got all I wanted of it.

  That's how we were almost from day one. We were all sex, and I suppose I let myself mistake that for love. I missed her so much, but I had to be honest with myself about it all. Whether I felt humiliated, or angry, or just sorry for myself, I don’t know, but I tried promising myself that it wouldn’t happen that way again. Something in me knew that wasn’t true, though. Myra had expanded my sexual horizons, but it was the person, the body, and the pussy that I really missed.

  It was Friday, and I had to get out. Myra had been to the house, and left me a note. A hell of a time to skip out. She'd come by while I was at work, and got her things, and left her key with the note. The house seemed too empty with all of her things gone. There was no way I could stay here alone.

  Is it any wonder that I felt so shitty? Jesus, I loved sex as much as she did, or more specifically, a good pussy, and Myra’s pussy was great, and suddenly I had no one, nothing but an empty house. I think she even took the smell of our sex with her, it was so empty.

  Somehow I kept from crying. To help me, I took my time to fix myself up, but nothing that was too fancy, and not too much with the cosmetics—I wasn’t overly fond of cosmetics anyway. Just enough to hide whatever I was wanting to hide. Do cosmetics hide sorrow? Or pain?

  Yes, I was in pain. As I said, no one likes being dumped, and so unceremoniously, or even with ceremony. My pussy was even sorrowing.

  Chapter 3

  Fixing myself up, I went to one of the clubs that I hadn't been to lately. My outfit was nice, but nothing that screamed out at anyone. I wanted to be alone, yet around others who didn't know me, maybe talk to someone to get my mind distracted, and have a few drinks. No, I wasn't on the prowl for another woman. I meant to keep my promise—if I could. A woman was the last thing I wanted at the moment.

  So why did I go to a lesbian bar? If for no other reason that I don’t like men, at least not sexually, nor do I like making social friends of them. Office friends, no problem. Friends at a company party, that was okay too, but dancing was very limited, and none of the close body stuff. No, a lesbian bar was always my choice, and I was grateful that we had a couple of them.

  Sitting on a stool at the bar, I let the ambiance of the club sink in, and the music to wash over my lousy state, hoping it would help cleanse the crappy feelings I was running from. It did after a while. A few butches tried to pick me up, but I declined, politely, but in a way to let it be known I really wasn't interested in sex with them, or anyone else. After about an hour of sitting, listening, and nursing a couple of glasses of wine, a young girl came in. She was cute, but she was very timid acting. She had to be a newbie.

  Calm of mind by then, I smiled to myself, and kept her in the corner of my eye. New girls don't come around that often. Some nostalgic thoughts came to mind, and in a way, I got to feeling sorry for her. That had to be because she was turning away some other butches, some of them pretty pushy, too. She was scared, I knew, and that's probably what got to me. Just what I needed, something, someone else, to take up my mind's attention. Someone else with a problem that maybe was bigger than mine. After a bit, I thought that maybe I could be of help to her, to smooth her way into our life style as I guessed might be her need.

  "Hi," I said softly, not wanting to scare her off. "You seem a bit lonely, but not wanting company, at least not from anyone who's asked you out. I was wondering if you might just need to talk, and nothing else," I said frankly, but kindly.

  "No," she said, a little nervously, but still trying to make me to feel as if I should leave her alone. "Thanks, I'm okay."

  "That's good," I said, an unaffected smile on my face. "For you, that is. Actually, I had hoped you'd say yes because I need someone to talk to, but it's fine. This is a nice place, a good bar for us. Enjoy yourself," I said softly and politely.

  That must have gotten her. A kind of indirect approach, and get their minds off of what ails them, like I was trying to do for myself. I had to smile inwardly at my deception, though it wasn't really deception. I did come here hoping to talk to someone I didn't know just to occupy my mind without the need to feel too polite to a friend, and wind up unloading on them.

  "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't mean to sound like that."

  "Like what? Honest? That's fine. Really it is," I said, my voice still soft, my smile as sweet as I could make it, and my body language non-threatening.

  I was like a nun who was concerned about one of her girls the way we're often led to believe they are. Whether they really are that way or not, I have no idea, but with all that has been being revealed about the Catholic church, well, I didn't honestly take any of that at face value, if I ever did.

  "No, please," she started again. "Look, did you really need someone to talk to? For real?"

  Her face was so full of concern. Had one of those butches tried this with her, they'd of had her for sure, she was so easy. Too easy, and she did seem so nice, so innocent. Innocence wasn't an attribute that was high on my list. I had nothing against it, in fact, it was nice, I guess, but some like to take advantage of it, and that wasn't my cup of tea.

  "As a matter of fa
ct, yes. I'm really telling the truth. I came here because I haven't been here in ages, and didn't want to run into any of my friends. You know, sometimes you need a friend real bad, but at other times, you just don't want to talk to them. Not that they wouldn't understand, but, well, I just didn't want to unload on them. They, uh, sometimes have a way of feeling they have to do something to make you feel better, and I didn't want to do that to them. So I’m here, looking for someone I can just talk to, and not feel the need to unload on them if they think they see something in me, and get nosey about it. But I'm serious, I do wish you would have a good time here. Some are nice, some aren't, just like any place else. Okay?"

  I had her. I was wearing one of the sweetest looks I could muster, and she was buying into it. Why shouldn't she? Yeah, I was conning her in a way, but I was doing it with truth. Devious, I know, but what the heck, maybe we could do each other some good. Besides, she did look, and sound like a nice girl. She had to be in her early twenties, and not just because she was so unsure of herself.

  "I'll be glad to talk to you if you really want me to," she said, though it was almost as an uncertain question.

  "I'd love it, if you don't really mind. My name is Mimi, Mimi Anders."

  "Hi. I'm Calista Hamilton."

  I looked away from her for a moment, but I knew she wasn't worried about it, I was obviously looking to see if there was a quiet table available for us. Luckily there was.

  "How about a refill, and take it to the table? How does that sound?"

  Calista was okay with that, in fact, she was okay with me. Maybe she shouldn't be that way too soon, but I was glad right now that she was. I chided myself for worrying about her already.

  "Calista is a somewhat unusual name," I said casually to open things up a bit.

  I opened a scab!

  "I hate it," she said with rancor.

  I guess she couldn't help it. She didn't seem the type to just be unloading like a lot of people do at the drop of a politely doffed hat, if you know what I mean. Still, I wondered about it.

  "Oh," I responded simply, but non-committal.

  "Yeah. Everyone always called me Lista," she said, her distaste not hard to see.

  "How about a middle name?" I wondered.

  "Ugh, hate it too. Louisa. I dislike it almost as much as I do Calista."

  "You mean Lista, huh?"

  "Yeah," I guess, she said, and smiled openly.

  She had a sweet smile. In fact, she had a really nice face. The lighting was dimmed somewhat here, but I could still see fairly well, and Calista did look as if she had a very pretty face. Her hair was a soft brown, like chestnut, and looked clean and silky, as best I could tell, and was down past her shoulders. A sweet little femme. The butches would really like to have some fun with her, or maybe one would even like to love her sweetly, but judging by the ones I saw trying to get to her, loving her sweetly was not what they had in mind.

  "How about Cali? Doesn't anybody ever call you Cali?"

  That genuinely stumped her. Her head cocked to one side, and she seemed to look at it with new eyes. That was surprising. I would have thought it natural for people to call her Cali.

  "No. No one ever called me that," she said, the surprise and a bit of wonder showing in her voice.

  "Well, do you think you'd like that better?" I asked, smiling.

  "Yeah. Okay. Sure," she said, a bit pleased with a new name that didn't have the bad connotations that Lista had for her.

  I knew there had to be a story behind her dislike of Lista. To be honest, I wondered if I wouldn't have disliked either name, Lista especially, but Cali had a nice ring to it, especially for her.

  "Good. Cali it is then," I said, grinning.

  Cali grinned right along with me like we were old friends. In a minute her head went down, and she grew pensive.

  "I'm glad I met you, Mimi," she said thoughtfully. "Thanks."

  "Hey, I’m the one that thanks you. I'm the one that needed someone to talk to."

  "Really? Did you really mean that? I mean, you're so beautiful," she said, then stopped and blushed.

  Wow! I could get used to her in a hurry. Maybe some might consider me beautiful, but I didn't think anyone did. Sure, I knew I was good-looking, really good-looking, in fact, but not beautiful.

  "You definitely know how to make friends fast," I kidded with her.

  "I'm sorry, but, but you are beautiful. When you started to talk to me, I thought you were just playing with me. I really couldn't believe you were interested in me, so I tried to, ah, you know."

  "Yeah. Brush me off, huh? That's okay, but I really did think you might want to talk to someone, and I know that's what I came here for, so I figured we could do each other some good. And don't sell yourself short. The lights not the best here, but it's easy to see that you're very pretty anyway. Why do you think those butches kept trying to get your interest?"

  She shivered.

  "Not used to this?" I asked gently.

  "Uh-uh. Not really," she said, but didn't offer more.

  What to do, what to say? Hmm! Do I prod her to talk about it, or let it be? What the hell, I did say she looked as if she needed someone to talk to, so why not? Besides, she could always decline, or just tell me to buzz off, though by then I knew she wouldn't do that. That was interesting. I already felt as if I knew so much about her. If she wasn't virginal to the lesbian lifestyle, she wasn't a pro at it either. She was too unsure of herself, too timid, and innocent acting. No, not acting. Cali was genuine. I knew she was, and I felt for her.

  "Cali, if I'm out of line, please let me know, and don’t hesitate, but is this your first time? You do know that this is a lesbian club, right?"

  She nodded slowly, her head mostly down.

  "First time, or you know it's a lesbian club?" I asked softly and very gently.

  "Both," she whispered barely audibly.

  "That's a good reason to be cautious," I said sagely. "It's kind of hard, isn't it? First time, and all, that is."

  My voice was as soft as I could make it. I caught myself when my hand nearly reached out to her. That would have conveyed the wrong message. It may have been exactly what she was hoping for, I had no idea as yet, but it was not what I was wanting. Just talking was my only mission here right now, and nothing else.

  Inside of me, I was kind of empty, lost. I was trying to rid myself of that feeling, not trying to fill it with more disappointments that too quick affairs often bring, particularly at times like this.

  "Do you really sense it's what you want, Cali?" I asked as if I was a close friend.

  "Yes. It's what I do feel it’s what I want; I've always felt this way."

  "But never acted on it, huh?"

  "No. Too shy, I guess."

  "Well, if you can use a friend, maybe we could talk every now and then. Would you like that? Of course, I’m a lesbian, and always have been, but I have girl friends, too, and they are just friends. We all need friends, don't we?"

  "Yes. We do," she said, taking in what I told her.

  She wasn't doubting me, that was for sure, just glad to have someone to talk to about it.

  "Do you have any family here?"

  "No. I left home as fast as I could."

  "Do they know about you? I mean, do they know that you feel you're a lesbian?"

  "No. At least not my mother. I haven't seen my father since I was a small kid."

  "Any other brothers or sisters?"

  "A brother and sister, both older," she said. "When they found out, or I told them, my brother acted as if I was poison, and catching. My sister hated me, or acted like it. They never did like me. They never did like anyone, I don't think."

  "Ouch! Tough family life, huh?"

  "Yes," she said, and I could tell her eyes were nearly ready to open up the faucets.

  "Of course I don't know you, but you do seem like such a nice person. Maybe things will get better for you soon. Tell me, do you have anyone else here that knows about you, how you f
eel?"

  "No. I just got here. I wanted to start fresh somewhere, and try to make some friends."

  "Don't have any yet?"

  "Uh-uh. Not yet."

  "Well, will you settle for me until you can find some? I can use a new friend. How about it, will I fill the bill until then? Just friends," I added to make it perfectly clear to her that I wasn’t trying to bamboozle her.

  Her face was a wonder. A really pretty little girl with a new toy, one she really wanted, and thought she'd never get. That's what her face looked like.

  "I, uh, I mean, yeah, yes. Honestly, Mimi? You're not kidding me, or feeling sorry for me?"

  "Well, maybe a little bit sorry for you, but sorrier for those who didn't see what a nice person you seem to be. Jeez, kid, you must have been hanging with some real dodos," I said, smiling.

  Cali broke out in the sweetest smile.

  "Yeah, they're pretty dumb," she said, getting into the new mood with me.

  "Look, I have friends that I dance with, so how about it. Want to have a dance with your new friend?"

  "Uh, sure. Yeah. That'd be nice, but, ah, I'm not such a good dancer."

  "Tell you what, I'll make sure we stay far enough apart so you can't step on my toes. Good grief, that'll set the butches on their ears. I'll bet they'll holler and laugh like crazy, us dancing so far apart. Come on, let's give them a laugh or two. What do you say?" I jokingly kidded, laughing as I did so.

  It was infectious. Cali liked it, and laughed too.

  "Yeah. That sounds good."

  “First, rule one is, don’t leave a glass with some drink in it. Never can tell when someone is looking to spike it for you,” I said, finishing what little was left in my glass. She did the same.

  "Just don't look at them and make any faces. Some of them are pretty touchy, and apt to get a bit mean. It'll be our joke, okay?"

  "Okay," she said, her face not showing any worry about it.

  We did dance, and somewhat apart. The dance was a slow enough, and I had my hands on her waist, and Cali had a hard time figuring out where to put her hands.

  "Atop my arms, or on my waist if you'd like, or even on my shoulders would be fine," I said quietly.