I’m Ivy.

I was told that sex is evil. It is. It is evil in the most beautiful way. It’s my poison. I like to write about my real life stories, but I will mix in some fantasy.  I’m also bisexual, so expect variety.

Bring it.

I introduce myself with the story of how I discovered that I love women. Her name is Monica.



I had just escaped the institute. That place still took up much of the space in my nightmares. My nightmares included the Bible institute director interrogating me as she repeated I was sent to test the holy people, and the small room they kept me in for so long. I was free, though. I was a 19 year old, naïve, hurt, and curious being wandering around in a whole new world.

Actually, I had lived in that area before. It was new, because I was more curious than ever about the things I was never allowed to see, to talk about, or even think about. After breaking up with a boyfriend with whom I made out with every day before work (at a Christian library), I took a job at a retail store. I was in for a treat.

The main boss was transgender (male-female). There were two assistant managers of which one was Lesbian. We had five designated supervisors for specific floor areas, out of which two were gay, and one was lesbian. Off the top of my head I dare to take the risk and guess the amount, and about half the rest of the staff was also part of the LGBTQ community.
I grew up in a bubble. I was exposed to church on Sundays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and sometimes “special church events” on Saturdays. My social circle involved church acquaintances, ministers, members of other churches, and a group of atheist friends I had back in junior high. Such a fine group of friends they were. They never made me feel weird about being the theist friend. Anyway, that was my bubble.

“Dear father in heaven, holy is your name. Blessed be Israel. Blessed be your church. Thank you for everything you have given me. I’m sorry for my transgressions. Please, forgive me. I am not perfect. There is something in me… that I dare not say… and I know that you know what it is. Please, make it go away. I don’t know why you made me like this, but I promise I don’t question your ways. All I know is that you ask of me to be different, and I can’t. Please help me. In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit. Amen.” This was pretty much the structure of that same prayer I voiced out to the sky every night since I can remember. It also contained one other thing, but that’s another story.

I never interacted with lesbians. I couldn’t tell that they were any different, if they were in any way, from everyone else. To me, everyone was just, well, people. There were nice people, and mean people. There were funny individuals, and those who tried too hard. There were honest people, liars, people to fear, and people to trust. What people did with their bodies was not a concern. It didn’t even cross my mind.

“Hi, new girl,” she said. I’ll call her Monica.

“Hi!” I wore a huge smile and I’m sure my eyes expressed enough friendliness to freak anyone in the real world out.

“Follow me, I’ll show you everyone and everything you should know about this place,” she said, as she walked away with a funky step. If anything, she had the weirdest sense of humor, but it worked for her. She could do any weird little thing that made no sense, but it made sense that it was funny. I’m sure there was always something there that I couldn’t grasp because of my lack of comprehension to the humor of the real world, but one thing was clear to me, and it was that she was being funny, so I laughed. I laughed all the time. I liked her. I wanted to hang out with her more for some reason. I followed her.

Oh, I followed alright. I followed her to lunch every time she sneaked up on me with a, “Boo! I’m going to lunch. Come with me.” I followed her to the break room every time she peaked through the clothing I was hanging and said, “I’m taking a break. Come!” I followed her. I was seduced by her awesomeness. She was so smooth. I never met anyone so smooth. I couldn’t believe she wanted me to follow.

“You’re cool, “she said one day while unwrapping her sub-sandwich during lunch, “I should be honest. I thought you were going to be a snob like the other girls who don’t like us.”

“Why would they not like you?” I had no idea, really.

“You’re cool, and weird,” she said this with a giggle. “Sometimes I don’t know if you are really that clueless to certain things, or if you just pretend in order to be funny or sarcastic.”

I ate my sandwich wondering what the fuck she was talking about. Seriously, what was going on? What was I missing?


Time passed. I’m sitting in a divan in her living room. The place smells just like her jacket and car do. It smells delicious, like Monica. She has books scattered around everywhere, piled up on the table, and sitting neatly on a shelf. She has cats. For today, I am a friend of kittens. I can hear her chatting with her sister in a room as she closes the door behind her. She hands me a drink and sits next to me. She’s smiling.

“Hi,” she says in a low voice as she raises an eyebrow and grins.

“Hi,” I reply nervously, and follow by biting my lip and looking away. She makes me nervous. She giggles.

“Oh, gawd. You’re too adorable,” she says. “I still can’t believe you like me. I mean, really? I knew you liked women since the day I met you. I could see it. I just never thought you’d pick me.”

“Why not,” I sort of struggle to catch my breath as I ask this. I’m feeling so many things and it’s overwhelming.

“You’re beautiful, Ivy. You’re the sweetest person I know. You’re weird as hell, but I like it,” she laughs.

I’m feeling an impulse. I’m going for it. It might be risky, and I might push her away, but I can’t clear my thoughts, and all I want is to stop talking and just…

I lean over, and stop as I’m two inches away from her lips. “Kiss me,” I whisper, as I’m looking at her gorgeous lips. I kiss her first. The response is breathtaking. She pulls me closer, grabs me with her hand under my hair in the back of my head, and introduces me to kissing heaven. Nobody has ever kissed me like this before. Her lips are softer than a man’s lips, but her confidence and drive are more powerful than any man I ever met. I feel helpless and almost melting in her hands as she passes them down my back, through my hair, over my waist, my neck, my legs…

Another impulse. I take off my shirt. She’s looking at me like a kid looks at chocolate as she unwraps it. She opens my bra in the front with one hand as she kisses me again. My bra is gone and so are my fears. I’m enjoying every second. She pushes me down on my back and pulls my jeans out of the way, and with them my panties. There’s that. I’m naked in Monica’s divan. I’m so lucky.

Monica leans her body over mine, resting her elbow next to me as she explores my body with her other hand. She’s still fully clothed. She’s wearing a plain white tee and jeans. Her tattoos peak gracefully from under the white fabric. I feel her soft hand as it presses against my abdomen, making its way up. Her hand takes a moment between my breasts as she kisses me with something that feels like hunger. She bites my lower lip, pulls away, and continues to explore my body with her eyes and hand. She massages my breasts softly and slowly. I’m breathing heavily and feel weak to her touch. I try to touch her, too, but she grabs my hands with her other hand and holds them over my head. She continues to explore.

Monica lifts my lower back a little with her hand as she kisses my abdomen. Her breath over my skin feels luxurious. I want her to taste my breasts, but she doesn’t. She’s absorbed in my abdomen and waist. She continues exploring my body. She’s like a tourist, or maybe more like a new home owner wanting to learn every corner of the house. She separates my legs enough to fit her hand in between. This first stroke makes my body temperature rise and all of a sudden having my hands held down is a battle that I need to beat. She resists, and I comply.

My mouth is watering. Something else is getting wet, too. She strokes, I lift my hips for more. She strokes, I gasp. She strokes. She kisses me again slightly just before passing her tongue gently over one of my nipples. Oh. My. Fucking. Gawd. “Monica!”

She sucks it into her mouth and massages it with her tongue. She bites. Next breast. She strokes, sucks, massages, and bites. Her hand is still massaging my pussy. It has become evident that every time my hands try to let go, she bites me. Hard. I know better now. In fact, there seems to be no need for her to hold them down. I know their place. My hands are to remain over my head. Got it.

Monica opens my legs as much as they can possibly spread, and passes her tongue over my cunt like she would an ice cream cone. She acknowledges my wetness by doing something that feels like slurping. She licks around, over, and under my clit. She sucks on my pussy’s lips, enters me with her tongue, and then sucks me into her mouth. She is doing something that I can’t quite figure out, but every time she does it, I lose all capability to think, and my cunt pulsates in desperation. Her tongue is majestic. I reach for her head, and she bites my inner thigh. Ouch, Monica. I giggle in pain and appreciation.

Monica presses her fingers into my throbbing vagina. She massages my walls as though she was looking for something. I’m enjoying this so much. Every time she does something new, I have to wonder how on earth I managed to live this long without experiencing so much pleasure.

“Oh! Mon…!” I’m caught by surprise. Monica found what she was looking for. She looks up at me and smiles in victory. Oh, baby. It’s on. Now that she knows just the place, she can make me surrender all ability to maintain composure, keep quiet, or still. I can’t hold my hands up any longer, so I take them to my mouth and bite hard. She bites my inner thigh again, but I can’t manage to pull it together and put my hands back again. Her teeth sink into my skin deeper, and it hurts enough to make me comply with her request. She’s still smiling.

She massages my cunt again avoiding that place for a few seconds only. I guess she has a little mercy. She goes for it again, and it feels so amazing that I haven’t even noticed that I’ve been moaning loud enough for her sister to hear from the other room. Out go her fingers, and in goes her tongue. Out goes her tongue, and in go her fingers. She licks, she sucks, she nibbles, and then again.
“Mmmmm. Monica, this feels so good…”

She rewards me for my compliment. She really knows how much I love it when she pays attention to that special place. Monica sucks me into her mouth, massages me with her tongue, strokes, sucks on my clit, and starts again. I think I’m going crazy! She fucks me with her fingers, fucks me with her tongue, and repeats. She fucks me hard. All mercy is gone. I haven’t even tried to move my hands anymore, yet she punishes me just for thinking about it, surely, as she bites my legs again in between fucking and stroking. Every time she bites me, I feel pain that she compensates with pleasure. She sucks on my clit, sucks out my cunt, pushes me in with her fingers. My cunt is pulsating so hard that it feels as though it reaches my stomach. What’s happening…?

She reaches in as far as she can with her tongue and then sucks me back into her mouth just as I feel my body give in and provide relief that feels more like ecstasy and enjoyable, painful pleasure. I just came onto Monica’s luscious lips.

Monica sits up and stares down at me as I struggle to catch my breath again. I look up at her and say, “Ok. I think I know what to do now. Now I do you.”

Monica begins to take off her shirt and says, “Say please, baby.”

“Please, baby.”


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