Lipsticks Stage Ch. 01

And of course with men off the radar screen I have to turn elsewhere to get those tender touches, gentle strokes and loving kisses that turn 'having sex' into 'making love.' And there is only one place to turn for that and that, of course, is other women.

They aren't new to me. I have been 'indulging' since I was at university, although during my marriage I as good as put it to one side. It was after my devastation of being so badly let down by my bastard of a serial womaniser husband that I 'returned to the fold'; in fact the very night we parted for the last time I was consoled by a neighbour to the point that we ended up in bed together.

So naturally I suppose, in my manless world it's women that have to be my focus.

That said, I don't go around looking for it. I am not a predator, I don't eye up other women assessing them as likely lovers. I do, however, have three 'friends' one being Carey, another is married and the other now lives in Bristol so opportunities for us are few and far between.

I've considered joining a number of gay and lesbian societies that I have discovered on the net. These include reading groups, debating societies, learning teams and various craft based get togethers for such things as painting, pottery, photography and a number of other topics. I've found the addresses and have gained information on several 'women only' clubs and a number of more blatant lesbian clubs.

The problem with most of these is that either, the women are quite dull or they are extremely intense about nearly everything or they are full on, hard core in yer face lesbians. What I took time to find was women with a similar outlook on sex with other women that I have; not man or penis haters, not cropped hair, dungarees, hairy armpits, roll ups, pints of beer geezer girls and moutaches, but gentle, respectable, sophisticated understated bisexual women. Lipsticks if you like, for that's what I am I guess.

It took time; over a year actually for me to develop a fully integrated and rounded 'life devoid of men.'

After reaching the decision that I didn't want anything more to do with men, my first problem was implementing it. I did that by taking the actions I mentioned above. Slowly withdrawing myself from situations where I would meet them and, more importantly temptation, I gradually got things in place where I was relatively secure from men other than in chance meetings, mainly with strangers and they didn't count; I've never been that into one nighters!

So I got there. It took me a couple of months and I have to admit to a 'farewell fuck' with an old flame who went back pre Kevin so you can work out his age, but I got the withdrawal part of things in order. It was the other side that now needed attention. If I wanted a world without men, I didn't want to be alone, I wanted other inhabitants and I wanted them to be women.

++

My first port of call was, as it is with many things nowadays, the Internet. My second was an old friend Sherry. The internet led me to a number of magazines, interest groups and some clubs and Sherry led me to bed. Almost job done!

Sherry was a few years younger than me, five actually. We had met when we were in our teens and we were both enthusiastic and quite good tennis players. She was ranked number one in Essex, our county, when she was fifteen; at that time I was in the top twenty. She made Wimbledon, I didn't. She went on the European circuit and again I didn't, but at that time my interest had waned considerably for I went to university and she didn't.

Although we lost contact a bit when she was a pro and was touring, during my marriage I saw quite a lot of her at our club for she became head coach when it became clear she was never going to make the world top one hundred on a regular basis.

It was shortly after my marriage break up that we became closer. It was about a year after the divorce came through when we were dancing together at a club do when nearly, but not quite out of the blue, she said "I think it's about time I seduced you, don't you."

I didn't agree immediately; it must have taken at least a week before I said 'Yes it probably was time.' So she did.

As with many lady tennis players Sherry was extremely bi verging on being lesbian. Although she had been married and divorced twice and had a son, she wasn't totally clear in her mind just what she was or is. What she does know, though, is that she has slept with both Pat Cash and Martina, regrettably not at the same time she always says with a knowing smile.

She has a really great body. Slightly muscular, but lithe and toned she has hardly any tits, mainly just large nipples, but a bum to die for and legs that go all the way up to that dreamland. She's pretty in an angular way, with high, prominent cheekbones, rather slitty eyes and thin lips, but fabulous, glaringly white teeth and brilliantly, blond, short hair. She's slim and tall and although slightly masculine in the way she moves and holds herself, she can, when she tries, look really stunning.

I phoned her and asked if she would like to play tennis. She agreed and we met at a local pay as you play centre. We had a good game, which she won quite easily and then had a drink in a nearby pub. I sort of loosely explained my plan about a manless life, without going into so many words.

"Wonderful darling, come into the proper world," she said, rather too loudly, raising her gin and tonic in a toast. I saw quite a few people turn round and I wondered what they were thinking seeing two women in track suits together toasting each other.

"Shush," I replied smiling.

She leaned forward so our faces were almost touching again causing stares and making me feel a little embarrassed.

"So are you coming out? You going to make an announcement?"

"No nothing like that, its just I want to stay away from men for a while at least."

"How can I help?" She asked looking into my eyes and pressing her knee against mine under the table. She very pointedly looked at my breasts in the low cut tennis top under the open track suit top and added "In any way of course."

I moved my knee away but she put hers back against it so I left it there realising no one could see.

"I was more thinking of helping me with a social life, that sort of thing."

"Well I can do that of course, but are there any other ways you feel you might need help?" She asked her eyes twinkling, a little smile on her face as she very clearly flirted with me.

I really hadn't arranged this match because I wanted sex with her. But having played the match and now having had a drink with her and had her flirt with me, it didn't seem a bad idea at all. She went on.

"I've got quite a few groups and clubs and websites that you might be interested in."

"Really?"

"Yes of course, on my laptop at home."

"What for er single women, like me, rather mature ones?"

She smiled. "Well actually darling," she whispered running her fingertips across the back of my hand and pressing her knee very firmly against mine, "They are more for lipsticks like you."

++

We hardly spoke. There really wasn't any need, we both knew what was happening and what we were doing.

We had left the pub and I had followed her Mini in my BMW M3 to her flat.

We walked up to the second floor of the big, creaky Victorian house, which could have been magnificent with a hundred thousand pounds or so spent on it. Without that, it was old fashioned, not much worked and it was creaky and draughty. At least though the rooms were big with high ceilings and looked good, but by Christ were they cold.

"So Mands," she said using a nickname that only close friends and lovers used. "Shall we check the laptop before or after?"

I smiled. "You witch."

"Yes I am aren't I?" She said moving closer to me and sliding the zip of my track suit down. "Shall we?" She asked nodding towards the bedroom.

There was nothing urgent or frantic about it. We simply undressed and got into bed, actually under the bedclothes. It was lovely cuddling and being cuddled by Sherry as we reacquainted our bodies. She felt good against me. She was supremely fit and lithe, her muscles were toned and her skin was soft and smooth. It was strange feeling as her flesh had the firmness of a man, but not the roughness for it was wonderfully smooth against me, all over.

We made easy love or had smooth sex as I like to call it. There was no pretence of love or anything silly like that and we didn't go crazy with the sexual gymnastics or a performance encompassing every aspect of sexual behaviour as many men seem to think is required. We kissed a lot, we stroked each other, we ruffled the others hair, my long, wavy, unruly chestnut and her short, neat blonde locks. We giggled and talked, we told each other what we liked and how we were feeling. We gave vent to our feelings with uninhibited moans, groans and deep sighs; the odd grunt or two as well was certainly heard.

We used the other's breasts a great deal. Cupping, squeezing, pinching and then stroking, at first, then later, kissing, licking, sucking chewing and nibbling. Our hands went everywhere, our breasts were squashed together and our bodies touched from lips to toes as we squirmed them together.

We didn't go down on each other. We left that for another time for we both knew there would be plenty of those. Instead we made each other cum several times simply by rubbing the other's clit and by using our fingers as surrogate cocks up the other's cunt.

It was a lovely afternoon and a great introduction to my manless world.