The Good Girl

"You can't really mean this? What about Jessica and Rebecca" My husband growled.

"Yes, I'm positive of the way I feel...and our daughters will spend equal time with both of us. You'll get to see them a lot more than you do now..."

"Jesus Lori, where did I go wrong?" He said sadly.

"It's not just you...I'm just as much at fault here..." I stated.

I guess it was bound to happen. My husband and I pursued the American Dream; big house, cars filling the driveway, expensive vacations, the country club membership etc. We were two mindless zombies serving the lifestyle that we created.

Our plan to keep up with the Joneses failed to take into account the time we needed to spend together as husband and wife. Jerry worked long hours, out by six am and rarely home before nine. Sundays were family day and the only time my daughters interacted with their father.

Me, I was the typical soccer mom, running a tight household on a tight schedule. The one exception? I also worked full time because there never seemed to be enough money leftover at the end of the month to pay the multitude of bills.

It was an exhausting lifestyle that once a person was mired in it, they felt trapped. I know that I did and so did a lot of moms and dads who I got to know over the years.

My daughters, Jessica and Rebecca were in high school when I finally woke up and decided I needed to smell the coffee. I no longer knew who my husband was because the person he'd become was nothing like the man I stood at the alter with and said "I do"

My deepest regret? Jerry was incapable of seeing the rut that we had fallen into. My endless arguments that we needed far less material things in our lives to be happy went right over his head.

His pursuit of the almighty dollar preceded most everything in his life and in the end it cost him dearly. Whenever I brought the topic up for discussion, he'd dance all around it but refused to come to any life altering decision. His constant refrain,

"I love you Lori," rang false, and while I don't doubt that he really believed it, he didn't show me in the simplest ways.

Somewhere along the way the love went of our marriage, at least it did for me. The morning and nightly hug and kiss seemed so perfunctory and insincere. Our sex life during our last five years together was close to non-existent.

I caught him "jacking off" more than a few times and while I know that is perfectly normal behavior for a man, I was more than ready, willing and able to have intercourse with him and tried to initiate sex on many occasions.

Although, my love for the man was in question I still desired him sexually and wanted his cock in me but he preferred spewing his seed in a clump of tissues. I'd managed to maintain a nice svelte physique over the years and his behavior hurt me to my core.

At that juncture, my girls were in college and I felt overwhelmingly alone. My fortieth birthday came and went and I knew that I needed a change. I'd rather live a solitary existence than spend time with someone telling me he loves me and its just lip service.

The divorce was inevitable if I had any hope of finding some happiness in my life. I wanted to love again and feel loved by someone but what transpired has shaken me to the foundation of my value system.

First, there was Bree and then Kelly. To my utter shock and amazement I fell in love with a woman; a mature, sexy and full of life female. But, I'm getting ahead of myself. There is so much to tell...so here goes...

The Good Girl:

That was me, the "good girl" who could do no wrong in her parents eyes; the perfect daughter, the perfect sister. Top of the class, excellent grades, athletic, very intelligent and pretty to boot; at least that's what I heard about myself.

No teenage rebellious period for me. I dated the jocks but my prim and proper ways must have driven them crazy. My mid-teens could best be compared to a half hour Disney Channel dramedy that teenage girls love to watch.

Need a volunteer for a class project? Ask Lori. Need a student volunteer for career day? Ask Lori. The geek supreme who would commit her time for just about any extra curricular activity that came down the pike. I was responsible to a fault.

My room at home? Not an object out of place, bed made every morning, dirty clothes in the hamper, and my closet? Lets just say it was ultra organized. A place for everything and everything in its place.

For years I blamed this affliction on "first child syndrome" but gradually I came to think of it as an excuse. My sister Rachel was the complete opposite and in spite of her "flaws" is a happily married, successful real estate agent with four terrific kids.

Sadly for me, I wed someone like myself. Our early years together in college were happy, full of love and loving. I lost my virginity to Jerry and he was a kind, warm and caring husband. But, we lost the fun loving spirit that imbued our courtship and first years of marriage.

I brought that military type orderliness of my teen years to the running of a household. It consumed me and robbed my family of something very precious, spontaneity. Lists, charts and schedules dominated our lives. If it wasn't pre-planned, forget it.

What surprises me today is that my daughters appear to be well adjusted, happy individuals.

**** The first months after my divorce were difficult because the liberated feeling that inhabited my being vanished and was replaced by a terrible case of the lonelies. I felt sorry for myself, stopped going to the gym and rarely socialized with friends despite their pleas to the contrary. Eat, sleep and work dominated my life and rather quickly I fell into a rut, a very deep rut.

Almost daily, I wondered if I'd meet someone new, if I'd ever have a satisfying sex life again. My ex was the only man I was intimate with and I kicked myself for having that "good girl" image growing up. I should have been experimenting with guys and girls while I was at college but I met Jerry as a freshman and that was that. I was loyal to a fault too.

One hot steamy afternoon in July, I took stock of my nude reflection in the bathroom mirror. Not bad, I said to myself. My slim figure could use some tightening and firming. Although my breasts had some sag, I retained a youthful appearance and made a resolution to start working out.

My daughter Rebecca suggested that I join Harry's Hardcore Gym.

"Why that one in particular?" I asked.

"For starters, they specialize in body sculpting, a combination of cardio and weight training." she replied.

I must have looked puzzled because Rebecca brought out her laptop and surfed different websites that demonstrated what she was talking about. The pictures of amazingly fit women stirred my interest and my libido, a first for me.

"That's how I want to look," I stated absentmindedly.

"If you can achieve that...you'll be one red hot mama...fighting them off with a stick and I don't mean just the guys!" she crowed.

I gaped at Rebecca.

"Girls too?" I asked a bit dumbfounded.

"Mom, where have you been? Women today are much more open about their sexuality, especially my generation," she stated.

"Have you..." I couldn't go on.

"We're not talking about me, I'm simply stating the facts," she said with finality, and that was the end of our discussion.

Harry's Hardcore was in a converted warehouse, taking up an entire floor. The day I visited, I signed up for a membership and the very fit young woman behind the desk asked if I was interested in a personal trainer.

"I dunno, never gave it much thought," I answered.

Debbie gave me a list of names and contact numbers.

As I was leaving, I stopped at the bulletin board near the front entrance. I recognized a name from the list and scanned her small poster with photos.

The pictures of Bree in her workout clothes advertising herself caught my attention. I guessed her age as early thirties but she looked much younger. The blonde haired girl looked positively "shredded" with eye popping muscles.

Would I be able to achieve that look at the advanced age of forty-one? I hoped it was possible and wrote her number down on a slip of paper.

That evening I called and got her cell phone message center,

"Hey, this is Bree. I'm either at the gym or..."

Bree had the most cheerful female voice and after I left my mumbled message, I kept wondering if my age would be a factor in her accepting to train me.

While I was well acquainted with the inside of a gym, most of the weight training machines were foreign to me. I used light dumbells to a limited degree but only six or so basic exercises.

It was a little past nine when my cell rang.

"Hello" I answered in a groggy voice, I had dozed off during "American Idol".

The person on the other end introduced herself as Bree and I immediately woke up. I expressed my interest in achieving a more fit look and commented on her form as it appeared in the photo.

"Thank you," she stated sincerely.

When I asked if she'd be interested in training an old hag, she laughed in the most charming way and told me she had clients in their sixties. We agreed to meet at the gym and discuss my goals. She wanted to make sure that she'd be a good match with what I had in mind.

The next morning, I sat with Bree and looked through a binder of photos showing the transformations that some of her clients had accomplished. The results were astonishing and I gawked at the before and after shots doubting that it was the same person.

"Hard to believe," she said, as if reading my mind.

"It's...well...incredible..." I gushed.

One very pretty thirty-six year old mother of two dropped twenty-six pounds and after a year of training entered her first fitness contest. She looked awesome with a ripped body that still maintained its femininity.

"I might be able to look like this?" I asked, pointing to the photo.

"With the proper diet, exercise and lots of dedication, yes...I think you can."

Bree was looking me over carefully,

"I need to do an evaluation to determine what course of action I'd take with you..." she hesitated momentarily.

"Give me six months and I know you'll be impressed, give me a year and I think you'll be amazed." she stated emphatically.

I gawked at her unable to speak.

"The key to any body transformation is the commitment level of the person involved. The more committed the individual, the greater the results."

As I stared at Bree, I started to think that her photo didn't do her justice, in person she looked even more stunning. I was sold until she mentioned her fee. She wasn't cheap but if the results came even remotely close to what I saw in the book, then so be it.

Bree put my old ass through the wringer but not all at once. Gradually at each session she increased the tempo until I was pumping iron and loving it. I followed her diet plan as best I could but tended to cheat a little on the weekends, especially for a glass or two of wine.

But, the pounds Bree wanted me to lose gradually came off and in six months I did notice the results just like she said. Overall, my body looked much trimmer and harder. I had "little" muscles where none existed before and it thrilled me.

Bree worked my butt until I cried "uncle",

"One more rep Lori, come on girl! Give me one more!" she implored, and damn if I didn't do want she wanted.

Another six months elapsed and it was evaluation time. In a sports bra and short/shorts, I flexed in front of the wall mirror with Bree appraising my look.

"Look at your before picture," she stated, and held the photo up to my face. The transformation was amazing and although I wasn't shredded, I was close.

"Wow, Bree...I can't believe its me," I gushed.

"How bought a victory celebration?" she asked, and invited me to a barbeque at her home.

During the twelve months that Bree trained me, I often wondered about her sexual preferences. I knew she was married but there was something in the way she looked at me that silently communicated some desire.

But, I found it hard not to fantasize about Bree also. The girl took great pains to maintain her bodies ripped look and she was a vision of muscle and femininity. If I had been in my twenties I guess my reaction would have disturbed me but I think most women are bi-curious at some point in their lives and for me it happened much later.

Although, I didn't know what to expect when I went to Bree's, it was the height of summer and she mentioned she had a swimming pool. Earlier that same day I shocked myself and went bikini shopping to Abbie's Place in Manayunk. I'd been there with my daughters but I only ever purchased a one piece.

The yellow number I chose showed a lot of skin but I had to admit it looked darn good on my new body. Janelle, the salesgirl, whistled through her teeth.

"You look...well amazing!" she gushed, and I felt my face grow hot.

Janelle, easily twenty years my junior, was giving me the once over and I felt some tingling in my groin area, a new experience for me.

Of course Bree invited me to use the pool and when I emerged in my itsy bitsy teeny weeny bikini, she eyed me up and down. But, she was wearing something just as revealing and I ogled her too.

"Bob's away for the weekend so it's just us girls..."

In my heart and in my loins, I knew that my sexual drought since my divorce would finally be over and done with. Bree fired up the grill and we toasted to my achievement. By the time I downed my third apple martini, I was ready to throw caution to the wind.

We were giddy from the booze when Bree stood and shed her suit.

"Skinny dippin' time!" she yelled and dove in the pool.

I couldn't strip fast enough and followed her. We clowned around for awhile but my pussy dampened from gazing at Bree's luscious body. I was positive that she was no stranger in the art of seduction and had set-up the whole scenario.

However, Bree was unaware that I had painstakingly researched girl-on-girl lovin' on line. I fingered myself silly looking at the pictures and videos of two girls in heat.

My favorite? A short video of a very pretty young woman performing oral sex on someone close to my age. It got me so hot that I pounded a newly acquired dildo into my pussy until I screamed my orgasm.

Bree was leaning against the side in the shallow end of the pool, her nipples jutting proudly when my hunger reached the burning point. I swam over to her and the look of triumph on her face was indelibly imprinted on my brain.

I lowered my head and suckled my first tit. In no time flat, I was addicted to the incredible sensation of the hard protuberance between my lips.

"Oh Lori...yeah girl...that feels great!" she crowed.

I nursed her hot nips until my craving was sated. It was time to move on and I licked every centimeter of her amazing upper torso.

Bree pulled my mouth to hers and we engaged in a heavy lip lock session. Girl's a damned good kisser, I silently mused and drove my tongue between her lips.

When we took a breather, Bree hopped up on the pool deck butt first and opened wide with her feet on the edge. Her private area was groomed and free of any pubic hair. A consuming lust to eat my first pussy enveloped my being as her pink slice yawed open and looked so damn inviting.

While I devoured Bree's delicious pussy, I reveled in the extraordinary sensation of my mouth glued over her sex as her hole leaked tart creamy juices into my thirsty throat. I never realized that the taste of a female could be so rich, so refined and craved more, lots more.

With determination, I hefted her rock hard ass in my hands and drew the sopping flesh of her vagina closer, burying my face even further into her swampy folds. My tongue sought her clitty and oh my but the girl did yell her approval.

Poor Bree had to push me away after she succumbed to several orgasms. I instinctively knew that her sex had become far too sensitive for me to continue and anyway it was my turn...

My ex-husband was no stranger to cunnilingus but having a woman perform on me? As they say, nothing could be finer! Bree's unbelievably talented tongue had me soaring to new realms of visceral pleasure.

I spent the weekend in Bree's bed, exploring every part of her body. I tossed my first salad. devouring her butt with equal zeal. But, the girl was just as hungry and liberally used her dildo on me. By Sunday, I was sore but sexually satisfied, something I hadn't felt for a very long time. Unfortunately, our brief liaison ended after that incredible weekend. Her husband was an impediment to any lasting relationship and unless she planned on getting a divorce, I knew there was no future for us.

After a spirited workout, I expressed my feelings to Bree and her revelation as to her true feelings shocked me.

"I like having my little affairs with women, my career affords me the chance to meet some very hot ladies who are all too willing to delve into that unexplored part of their sexuality," she stated succinctly.

I gaped at her open mouthed.

"Look Lori...its like this, I'm happy with my marriage but I've always been attracted to my own sex too. Before, I started bodybuilding, I was an overweight schlumph of a wife in a dead end job that I hated. I remember leafing through a magazine one day and reading about this woman's transformation from fat to fit. Right then I vowed to do the same thing," Bree stopped for a moment with a pensive expression.

"Looking the way I did in size twelve jeans I realized I had about a zero chance of re-exploring my bi-side. Something I did quite freely in college until I met Bob. I purposely chose a very hot looking female personal trainer and I dedicated myself to her program. It took me about a year to remake my figure and I've never looked back.

My trainer Tessa insisted that I enter an amateur fitness competition and I finished in first place. Later we went out to celebrate and after a few drinks...well we wound up back at her apartment...I'll just say that it was a night to remember."

Bree gazed at me with a heartfelt expression and there were no ill feelings on my part. I understood perfectly.

"Thanks for telling me..." but I was unable to control my emotions and tears traveled down my cheeks.

Bree was my first woman and except for my ex-husband the only other person that I had intimate relations with in my entire life. God, I felt so inexperienced and naïve. When I conveyed my feelings to her, she took me in her arms and held me very tenderly.

"Am I still your trainer? Your friend?" she asked, and the fond look on her face touched something deep inside me.

"Of course you are..." I blubbered on her shoulder.

"Do you think less of me now..."

I pulled back from Bree and gazed at her curiously.

"Why would I think less of you? You've done what some people spend a lifetime thinking about but never act on. I admire you for that...but does your husband..."

"Oh, he knows, in fact he was completely aware of my desire for same sex loving and encouraged me to explore my sexuality. Bob's a smart man...he knew that I would become unhappy and miserable if I didn't and it might doom our marriage...you see Lori, I love him a lot and I know he loves me...I don't want to lose that love," she stated sincerely.

Bree's honesty had wet my eyes again. In her embrace, I slowly realized that she was in touch with who she was. Four days a week I met her at the gym for a strenuous butt kicking workout. Our friendship deepened and I looked forward to seeing her.

Bree invited me to informal social affairs at her house; picnics, parties or just to hang out and socialize. I met her husband, Bob and it was anything but awkward as he was as sweet and charming as his wife.