Something Borrowed Ch. 02

(Before we begin, please remember this story is totally fiction. All the names, places and situations do not represent any real people or places. All characters are over 18. This story takes place in the same universe as A chance Meeting, but stands alone. You should read chapter 1 before you continue. Please leave a comment. I hope you enjoy)

--- Maggie

I had not recognized on conscious level how stressful my life with Madison had ALWAYS been. I felt relieved, not sad to see Madison go. But I had gotten angry and hurt and jealous of Madison's antics time and time again in the past. I cooled off, swore it was over and each time came crawling back. Knowing full well that more hurt was ahead of me at the hands of my mercenary girlfriend.

Will I be strong enough this time?

Chapter 2

From the beginning of this tale, you might expect this story to be about Madison and me. You might have been right, if the past was any indicator of the future. Time after time I would break away, determined to end this relationship, and time after time I would be drawn back into it.

This betrayal had ripped the blinders from my eyes. I had fallen into a role that I had been raised to believe was a woman's place, a meek, unassuming, submissive subordinate one. This mindset was the reason I ran to NY and left the small town in which I was born and raised.

In New York, working for my father, I found my true self an assertive and happy independent openly gay woman. The day I met Madison, I lost that independence. I had surrendered my identity to Madison and my hometown's 1950 misconceptions of a woman's place in society.

Now the real work would start. I would be going home.

On a personal level I was going home to clear the air concerning my sexual orientation and tell my mom and sister that I was a lesbian.

On a business level I was going to discuss My Dad's will and meet my new partners in the company, mom and Kelly.

I now realized that I had so much more to discuss, if I tried to tear down the ingrained subordinate feeling from my childhood. I was going to confront my family and friends after an eight-year absence.

My mother never forgave me for running away and leaving Kenny at the altar. Her social standing in the community was ruined and I was the subject of scandal that lasted for years. We spoke infrequently on the phone with each other. Imagine how the tongues all over town will wag, when I announce I am a lesbian and introduce my lover. Remember I was bringing Madison home with me, but that shock was now going to be avoided.

My sister, Kelly was an adult now, not the child I remembered. We spoke more often than I did to mom, but I missed all the years she was growing up and maturing. She was really a strange as well.

What could go wrong?

Finally, let me formally introduce myself. My name is Margaret Wilson, I am 30 years old and a single lesbian woman working in the fashion industry. I was raised in a small town in Middle America that had been ultra conservative and stuck in a 1950's model of American family life. I am the oldest of two children and have a sister Kelly, 24.

Our Mother and father divorced, when I was 15. They had a stormy marriage, but that is another story for another time. The only thing they had in common at the end were two daughters, but we were not enough to keep them together. My Dad moved to NYC and opened a business and we stayed with our mom. She was a stay-at-home mom as was expected, she worked full time caring for our home and her children. My father provided all support for us as we were growing up.

I am a hopeless romantic. I believe in fate or kismet or whatever you call it and seek true love. I like to read trashy romance novels and cry, when I watch a good Rom Com on TV. I like to think my happy ending is just around the next corner.

I am a lesbian (closeted to my own family and friends back home, but so very open here where I live.) I like to think I have a "go with the flow" personality. I always found it hard to express my true wants and needs with my girlfriends and I find deep intimacy hard to achieve. As a result, I am easily manipulated emotionally by a stronger more assertive woman.

I have had lots of casual sex, but I am lonely. I find it hard to be truly vulnerable, not trusting my romantic instincts. At this point not sure I would recognize the "right" woman, if I met her. I have met so many Ms. "wrongs" in the past. My personal life to this moment has been a series of missed signals, lost opportunities and failed relationships and this last one with Madison, the worst of them all.

You have seen that my domestic situation was a mess and other personal relationships not much better. But in my corner office and at my desk, dealing with business and the high-pressure world of fashion, I am the exact opposite, a self-confident business woman. I suspect this emotional contradiction has been there my entire life. Can going home help me resolve it?

Now my story.

I was a happy child, a moody teen and as I slipped past my eighteenth birthday and into my twenties, rather a wild young woman, lacking direction. I wanted so much more than my life here in this small town offered me, but I was not prepared for anything else except marriage. Fantasies filled my head. Some of them about a career far from the confines of my hometown and success and power. Some about living an unconventional life here. Most of my fantasies were sexual in nature and not acceptable for a well-bred young woman.

Naked, fresh from my bath, ladies did not shower, but always took scented baths. I would slip under the covers and tease myself and slowly try bring myself to orgasm. I would start my nightly ritual by slowly caressing my breasts, starting from my neck and running my soft fingers down to surround my breasts with both hands. Over and over again I would gently stroke my small mounds until the first tingle of desire stirred in my pussy. Increasing the pressure on them slightly with each pass of my hands, my fingers cupped my soft yet firm globes. My two fingers settled on my dark areolas, swirling in ever decreasing circles until I reached my tender nipples. As they hardened and become more prominent, I would pull on them with my fingertips. I began to moan to myself as I felt the first drops of my dew moisten my pussy lips.

Abandoning my swollen nibs, I Slid down my sides. I ran my fingers up and down and across my belly just above my curly and dark pubic hair. I could do this for just so long as I felt my lower lips open and spread with desire. My body began to ache for more and my fingers were eager to give me it. Exploring through the sparce curls, I found my wet lips and swollen clit and felt the first electric shock of pleasure course through me.

I imagined with my eyes closed and my fingers moving gently at first, than harder and faster, it was a lover that was pleasing me. I pushed one finger then another in me against my intact hymen, lubricated by the gooey discharge flowing freely across my hand. As I ran my fingers of one hand in and out of my wet labia, I played with my engorged clit with the other. Behind my shut eyes, I imagined face after face of unknown lovers. None of them clear enough to recognize, just indistinct vague shadows. I tried hard to center on Kenny my boyfriend from HS. I stroked my clit and touched my wet labia and even called out his name. Too often I got excited just not enough to orgasm. Something was wrong. Something was missing. I cried myself to sleep night after night. Deep inside I knew I was not cut out for the cookie cutter existence of so many of my girlfriends. Young women living in my town were expected to graduate high school, marry and raise a family.

I tried to tell my mom of my dreams and secret desires (for a girl-girl relationship, tell you about that later) and to be "more" than a wife and mother, but each time I was shut down. Women never worked outside the home and to wish for anything else, including a female love affair was unheard of and disgraceful.

I held on to my hopes for a change in attitudes until the ripe old age of 22. Most of my girlfriends were already married and with children or at least engaged. The rumors were going around that there was something seriously wrong with me. Finally, I caved from the pressure of my mother and agreed to marry my High School boy friend, who it seemed was still single and still in love with me.

From the first day of my engagement to Kenny, I did not make a great bride to be. I had no real interest in settling down or being a wife and mother. I wanted "more", just did not know what "more" was or how to find it. I was BLUE. Let's talk about Ken.

Ken was my first and only boyfriend in school. He chased me from middle school on until we became a couple during our sophomore year. He was sweet, naïve and not particularly sexually experienced. We were both considered virgins by community standards, but explored as many other young adults did with our budding sexuality. What hypocrisy, in town, Kenny was just sowing his "wild oats" and acting on his hormones, but I was considered impure for having the same desires and acting on my hormones. We were just horny teenagers. Folks around town smiled knowingly at Kenny, but called me a "wild child," and were sure I would meet a sad end. Kenny loved me, shielding me from the bulk of rumors and hateful comments and told everyone we would one day be married.

We partied, drank too much and spent most of our time in his car, teasing each other sexually. I would let him fondle me over my clothes and did the same to him. I learned to please him and yet keep my virginity. We found sex play while still fully clothed was so fun. I never allowed him under my skirts or blouses. I had a strict no unbutton, no peeking rule and he got a quick slap on the hand if he tried to break it. I would rub and excite him over his tight pants as he begged for more. The real mysteries of touching and seeing my body were protected by several layers of nylon and cotton. By the time we were seniors, Kenny was so frustrated. I never actually saw his penis or balls so I can't tell you if they were blue or not, I know for a fact he spent a lot of his free time in the bathroom after our dates.

Kenny was my high school boyfriend and it was an established fact in our circle of friends, we would have real sex on prom night. Kenny rented a tux and my mom and I went shopping for a prom dress. Secretly I went to Victoria's Secret and bought sexy panties and a bra, and thigh high stockings for the big occasion. Hand jobs through his jeans and palming my tits through my blouse, did not count as sex. We both were nervous and excited about our first time together. My dreams of a romantic hotel room were dashed, when Kenny said he couldn't afford the cost of a room. What a cliché. My first time of real sex was going to be in the back seat of Kenny's car.

Kenny was my first sexual experience with a man that involved penetration and as it turned out he was the my last. We had sex after the prom and from my point of view, it was a disaster. Fumbling in the backseat of his chevy sedan, instead of a romantic hotel room in town was not my vision for our initiation into the world of adult sex.

The only light came from a street lamp about 50 feet away at the head of the dead-end road where he parked. We could hardly see each other in the dim reflected light, hardly the most romantic atmosphere for him to take my virginity. The car smelled of cigarettes and stale beer. The seat covers were old, stained and torn in spots. Right where I was laying, I could feel a spring sticking up against my back

He was so excited as he tried to unzip my dress, he tore the zipper. I saw the lust and desire clearly on his face as my bare body was revealed to him for the first time. I lay back on the cushion of the backseat in what I thought was a sexy pose. I was wearing a new bra and panties and stockings for the first time and wanted him to see me in them. With hardly a glance he ripped my panties from me and tossed them on the dirty floor. He tore at his clothes and I saw his raging hard on for the first time. Not a kiss, not a hug, he pulled on my bra until it came free of my breasts. I lay there just in my dark stocking totally exposed and vulnerable. The moment we were both completely naked he was on me.

"Maggie, you're so beautiful," as he squeezed my bare breast for the first time,

"I want you so much." He moved forward and gave me a kiss as he continued to explore my naked chest for the first time.

Grabbing my hand, "feel how hard you make me,"

I was used to the feel of his cock over his pants and I knew he was big, when he hardened. I was shocked seeing it hard and throbbing in front of me. It looked so much bigger and harder as he spread his legs. I was so afraid it wouldn't fit inside me. My pussy was still dry, I tried to tell him I was not ready, but he pushed me back against the cold leather seat.

"Kenny I not ready," I said to him, but I don't think he ever really heard me as lust filled his face., "You need to make me wet." "Please Touch my pussy."

In response to my pleading, he just spread my legs, spit on his fingers and push them into me a couple of times. He pulled my legs up and pushed his wet fingers into me again and again. He was so rough and it hurt so much.

"Kenny," I cried, that "hurts, please be gentle."

Ignoring my pleas, he gave my tits another squeeze and pulled on my nipples. He swiped my pussy with his saliva soaked, fingers once more.

Spitting into his hand, he spread the warm saliva on his cock and forced the whole length into me in one agonizing movement.

Smashing through my maidenhead and driving hard into my cervix.

I screamed in pain and he screamed in total pleasure.

Slamming into me, once, twice, I think three times before I felt this hot discharge deep inside me. All the time he repeated in a low rhythmic tone, "So good, so good, so good."

He moaned loudly as his cum was forced deep in me from his unprotected penis.

I moaned and cried from the mindless brutality at the hands of my boyfriend.

He felt pleased with himself after losing his virginity and was ready for more. Me, I felt violated. I was in pain and sensed I was torn inside. My first time was not how I had imagined my first time at real love making would be.

Pulling out of me, he wiped his reddish stained cock with his tee shirt and grinned at me and said, "That was great," "let's do it again."

He pulled me to him, aiming his cock at my tender sore pussy and pushed hard.

"No," I screamed, "don't touch me."

I gave him a hard shove and curled up in the corner crying in pain. I felt so many things but "great" never crossed my mind and I certainly was not going to do it again.

"I want to go home," I sobbed, almost hysterical.

Kenny could see I was obviously upset. I still had hopes that he would recognize how brutal her was with me. Understand my feelings and just hold me, but he seemed clueless about feelings. With a shake of his head, he tossed my clothes at me.

"Fine," he muttered to me.

He was clearly more angry and disappointed than fine. The look on his face told me want to fuck me again. Yes, I knew the word fuck, knew what it meant and knew the difference between making love and a fuck. Kenny certainly wanted to fuck me once more, there was no love in what he would do to me.

"Get dressed," He sneered.

Looking at his watch, he said, "I promised your mom I would have you home early anyway,"

He was trying to save his bruised male ego by complying with my mom's request..

He pulled on his clothes, tossing the tee shirt with my reddish goo on it on the seat next to me. He climbed over the front seat to start the car. He turned on the radio and drove me home humming some stupid tune. He never said a word to me on the drive home. I slowly got dressed. I tried to clean my face of my tears and ruined makeup, using a tissue I found in my clutch purse. I searched for my panties in the dark. My panties were torn, the elastic band that held them tight was pulled away from the pretty lace border. I pulled them up as best I could. They covered my pubic hair and swollen pussy, but kept slipping down to my hips. In his excitement to take them off, Kenny had ripped them.

All I could think about was that I had spent two month's allowance to buy pretty lingerie for this night. I stared at my torn panties and all I thought to myself was, what a waste of money. He never took the time to really see me in it.

I seem to remember our whole "romantic" love scene taking ten minutes, but I could be wrong probably less. He thought it was great, I remember it felt like rape, I hurt a lot, my nipples and pussy were sore and swollen. I had a bloody mess between my thighs and it was running down my legs now. I put on my prom dress, it was ruined now too, Kenny had torn the zipper from the fabric and now the entire back of the dress was shredded. We pulled in the driveway, at last. I was holding my torn dress close to me and still crying. It took every ounce of strength for me to pull myself up and exit the car. Kenny tried to help me, but I pushed him away.

He mumbled, "I am sorry I hurt you," "I was just so excited and didn't think."

He tried to kiss me, but I pulled away and turned my head. Hiss lips landed on my cheek. I ran up my driveway and onto the porch. It was dark inside, maybe my mom was asleep.

I unlocked the door, quietly looked around, my mom was not waiting in the front hall for me, but I could hear her in the kitchen. I ran up to my room and locked my door. I striped off my dress and my panties and washed myself the best I could. Putting on a short nightgown and fresh panties, I called my best girlfriend Alice.

I was hysterical and between deep sobs, I told her what had happened after the prom. It never crossed my mind as to why Alice was home and not out on a date celebrating prom weekend. Alice came over and I cried and cried as she held me tightly. After all my time convincing myself, I was not like my other girlfriends. I still had that fantasy deeply ingrained in me and wanted the romance of having sex the first time with a loving partner. The free spirit in me just wilted and was drowning in my hot tears

"Let it all out sweetie," Alice cooed, holding me tightly.

"He was just so rough," I cried into her shoulder as my lips brushed her neck. I felt her shiver as she felt my breath.

"He didn't even try to get me ready,"

"It hurt so much and I was so dry inside,"

"He didn't even use a condom; he just stuck it into me"

"Just wanted to prove he was a man, I hate him"

"I hate all men"

The words just kept pouring out of my mouth, one sentence after another between sobs and crying fits.

Alice gently kissed my forehead and slowly rubbed my back. Whispering words of comfort, she continued to kiss me. I felt her warm lips on my ear, then my cheek and then she found my mouth. It was the first time I had kissed another girl. Her lips were so tender and loving as she held me close and soothed me with several sweet kisses. Each one just brushing across my lips. I found myself responding to her lips. I was kissing her back with the same kind of gentle kisses. We hugged and clung together. Those first gentle sweet kisses became harder more passionate ones. We played with each other's lower lips. I moaned as I explored Alice's mouth and she explored mine.

We looked into each other's eyes and saw desire and need and love. Her fingers found their way into my panties and she stroked my swollen nether regions.

"Let me take the pain away," she whispered as her fingers brushed over my pubic hair and between my legs.

I froze for a second and then relaxed a bit as my body responded to her gentle touch. I pushed my sore mound into her soothing fingers.