I discovered I was bisexual during my senior year of high school: I was watching
a movie in which a female character took off some of her clothes in an obvious
sexual situation and I found myself getting turned on.  I guess I can credit my
lack of panic to the fact that I was well read.  Even though I wasn't a
participant in the 60s sexual revolution, it provided plenty of reading material:
I had read about lesbianism and bisexuality.  Since it had always been guys that
I had crushes on and who turned me on, I never feared for a moment that I might
be lesbian. And another product of the 60s revolution was an increased tolerance
and even approving attitude toward lesbianism and female bisexuality (obviously,
prejudice didn't disappear, but there was a noticeable increase in tolerance--and
prurient interest).  I suppose my attitudes were shaped more by what was being
written than by my friends in high- school, who would have been shocked even if
many were more experienced than I was.

But I'll never "consummate" my bisexuality: I'm strictly monogamous. But I did
have an experience of sorts once before I met my husband. Some time after I
started working after college, my best friend and I had been drinking and we got
to talking about a movie that had a bisexual scene.  One thing led to another and
we decided to try a kiss. After kissing for a while, I unbuttoned her blouse and
started feeling her breasts.  She doesn't have large breasts but tends to be very
slender and is very attractive.  Then I started kissing one of her nipples while
I caressed her other nipple with my fingers.  She combed my hair with her fingers
and caressed the sides of my head.  Then I started to undo her pants--but she
stopped me.  She got dressed and left, but at the door she did give me one more
kiss.  A real kiss too. And that was it: we never tried anything since--I still
see her once in a while, particularly at work, though our lives are quite
separate now.

And that is about the closest experience I have had to any of these stories. --
deirdre

Disclaimer: this is not reality; it is a string of words.  The author does not
wish to live out the experiences described.  The author does not wish anyone to
live out the experiences described.  If you lack the maturity to grasp this
disclaimer, then under no circumstances read this story without the express
permission and guidance of someone more mature. -- deirdre

Photo by deirdre

My daughter's college has a really nice out-door swimming pool.  I know because I
came up to visit her one weekend during summer session and got the chance to swim
in it.  Of course the hot, sunny weather had a lot to do with how nice my swim
was.  Cathy had a Saturday-afternoon practice for perspective cheerleaders and
suggested that I take a swim while I wait for her.  And as I implied, it was
lovely--I swam a bit and laid out a bit and generally did nothing in the sun.

It was afterwards when I returned to her dorm room that I was in for a surprise. 
I had just showered and had returned to her room when the door opened, right when
I was completely undressed!  It was Cathy's roommate Lillian.  And she had some
other girls with her!

To say I was embarrassed would be an understatement, but I made myself calmly
move to get a robe.  I didn't say anything, not trusting my voice.  It was very
strange to be walking around a room with four college girls standing there,
completely dressed.

"Oh, hi, I guess we caught you at an awkward moment."  It was Lillian.  I glanced
at her and she and the other girls were just standing there looking at me!  At
least they had shut the door!  They were smiling as if it were a little joke.  I
reminded myself that it *is* a little humorous to be caught in a little
embarrassment.  Or it's better if you can treat it like that.

"Hi," I answered.  My voice wasn't completely confident though.  I wish I had
better control.  "Just a minute," I added.  I looked around for my robe and
didn't see it!  I felt a panic inside me.  I looked some more.  It was like a
dream.

"Please don't mind us, we've certainly seen it all," said Lillian.  One of the
other girls giggled a little bit. I finally grabbed a towel and wrapped it around
myself.  I felt like such a fool, grabbing it so quickly like that, as if I were
afraid of them.

"In fact," Lillian went on, "you really don't have any reason to be embarrassed
about your body--it's really quite something."  I guess my body is OK, but
nothing like those college girls.  I stood there, in the towel, not knowing what
to do next.  The girls didn't leave.  "Have you ever had yourself photographed?"
asked Lillian.

"No," I answered.  It didn't come out either indignant or even just confident.  I
still sounded nervous.  I could kill myself.

"Well, you should.  You're body is absolutely beautiful."  She paused and I
didn't have a reply.  Then she went on: "Why don't you let me take a picture and
show you."

"I..., I don't think so."

"Oh, I have a Poloroid camera.  I'll just take a shot and give it to you, so you
can see for yourself."  I thought about it: *a woman is asking me to pose nude
for a picture*.  It was too absurd.

"I wouldn't feel comfortable."

"There is nothing to feel uncomfortable about," she answered, "just one
picture... you can keep it as long as you like and tear it up any time you feel
like it."

"Yes, there's really nothing to worry about," said one of the other girls.  Then
they were all telling me I should just try it for kicks-- one little photo.  They
asked me if I wasn't curious what I would look like and went on and on.

I don't know *what* made me agree to it.  It seemed harmless--one little photo to
look at--then to lock up or burn.  Lillian produced a camera and told me to stand
by the dresser and posed me.  She had me lean against the dresser, supporting
myself with my elbow and forearm on the dresser, my feet crossed.  It was a
poloroid camera. She wanted me to smile and look natural.  I did my best.

The picture.  Someone had grabbed it and run out the door.  "Hey!" was all I
could get out.  Lillian pulled the door shut.

"Don't worry," she said.  "We'll give it to you."  She left with the other girls.
 I sat down, my heart in my throat.  Nude, sitting on the bed.  What was I going
to do?  What were *they* going to do?  I pulled myself together and got dressed.

Cathy came back in about fifteen minutes.  I had been pacing the room for most of
the time.  I'm not really a pacer either.  Would they show it to Cathy?  Would
they ruin me?  Would the whole place see Cathy's mother?  I couldn't tell her
about it.  How could I be so stupid?  Cathy noticed I was nervous, but didn't say
anything.  She seemed to want to bring me out of it.  We talked about going out
to eat.  Lillian came back in the room.  She was smiling.  I didn't know what to
do--go hit her?  Say something?  Avoid her?  She walked over to me and slipped
the picture into my hand.  I got it into my purse without Cathy noticing.

The next day, before I was left, I was alone with Lillian very briefly. "What did
you do with it?"   I asked, in a forceful whisper.  She didn't answer but just
smiled.  "Did you copy it?"

"I just wanted a chance to see it before giving it up," she said innocently.

"Did you copy it?"  I repeated.

"It doesn't have a negative," she replied.  Cathy came back and that was my last
chance to talk to her.

I put it in my dresser, under my clothes.  I could burn it any time--it was safe
for now.  I looked at it occasionally.  My vanity, at my age- -the picture was
not too bad.  I asked a guy I know if Poloroid pictures can be copied.

"Sure they can."

"But there isn't a negative!"  I blurted.  He looked at me briefly, wonderingly.

"Well, it isn't as good quality as if you had a negative.  Basically, you take a
picture of the picture.  Poloroids aren't too great in quality to begin with and
the copy can be pretty close if you have good equipment designed for the job, but
otherwise, will be noticeably worse."

I wasn't reassured by this conversation.  It's amazing how much of my time went
into thinking about Lillian and that picture.  My daydreaming time.  She *must*
have a copy!  Who did she show it to? Cathy hadn't mentioned anything on the
phone.

Cathy came home after the last summer session and brought Lillian with her.  She
didn't even ask first, but then I encourage her to consider our house hers as
well as mine.  I stared at Lillian, though I tried to act normal.  I thought I
saw her smile at me.  FInally, I was alone with her, the second day.

"You copied the picture, didn't you?"

"I told you--it's a Poloroid--no negative."

"I asked about that.  You copied it, didn't you?"

"Well... you see, photography is my hobby and that's what I do: take nude
pictures."  That was a *yes*!  I had *known* it but I still felt weak in the
knees.

"Who... sees your pictures?"  My voice was weaker.

"Well, I don't show them to every guy I see or anything like that," Lillian said,
"Just people who are genuinely interested... mostly other photographers."  It was
seeming OK.  "Would you like to see them?"  I thought about it.  It was
surprising to think of Lillian as a photographer.  Seeing them would tell me how
seriously she took it.

"OK."  She looked around.  Cathy wasn't around and wouldn't be back for a while. 
I think it was instinctive for her to look over her shoulder.  Then she went to
the bedroom she was using, and came back with a photo album.  She sat on the
couch and I sat next to her. She opened the cover.

The very first page was one picture, about 5 by 7 of a fantastically beautiful
girl, probably college aged.  I was astounded--she looked like a model!  She had
dark hair that spread over her shoulders and was standing facing the camera with
one leg raised and on an ottoman and a hand resting on its thigh.  Her legs were
completely spread.  Her breasts were astounding.

I had looked at the little picture of me, and I guess it had made me more
familiar with my own body.  I was a positive dowd next to this girl.  I stared.

"You like it?"

"You did a good job."  What could I say?  She giggled a little.

The next picture was a blond lying on a bed.  The picture didn't show anything
except some skin and a little of her rear, but it was obviously an alluring pose.
 I felt a little nervous, for some reason.

"I like taking erotic pictures."  Oh.

The next page had several pictures, all of the same girl, and when she said
erotic, she meant it!  Some of them she was dressed and looked very ordinary, in
some she was nude, and in some, she was obviously masturbating!

The next page had a guy!  He was dressed in only a t-shirt, which his chest
filled out beautifully, and was standing there, looking at the camera, nude from
the waste down, his cock hard and level!  She giggled.  "What do you think?"  He
was cute too.  I didn't answer and she giggled again and turned the page.

I couldn't believe the pages that followed.  All had lots of pictures, each page
dedicated to a different person.  Not all the pictures were solo though: the
featured girl was sometimes shown in sex acts with guys (intercourse in lots of
positions, oral sex both ways, being fingered, or fingering a guy).  Some of the
pictures showed guys or girls tied up!  And the featured girl with two or more
guys!  And with another girl!  And a guy being done in the rear by another guy!

Then there as a page with Cathy!  One picture of her playing tennis, and one of
her in the dorm room in *exactly* the same pose that I was in!  And *other*
pictures!  In one, a profile, she was nude, kneeling, with her hands behind her
neck.  In another, she was sucking a guy's cock!  She was kneeling and nude and
he was dressed. And in another, three clothed girls were standing over her and
she was on hands and knees.   And another had one girl holding her by a band
around her neck while another one used a *whip* on her rear! Her hands were
handcuffed behind her!  I couldn't believe it!  And in another, she was licking a
woman, in fact, there were several like that!

I flipped through some more pages.  More and more.

"Where am *I*?"  I asked, my voice drained.  She flipped over to a page with just
one small picture.

"I need more," she said.  I gulped.  I knew she was going to have them.