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IM message incoming from Rhonda

Rhonda: I'm so glad you sent me that request. I was hoping you would get back in touch. I kept looking for you but do you know how many Jeannie Walkers there are on Facebook? I've missed you girlfriend! What's up on your end of the country? Are you still writing? How's Francis?

Jeannie: I've missed you too. Francis is good; can you believe we've been married 26 years? Holy shit!! The writing is going well but if my Obeying Francis series gets much longer I'm going to have to start calling it a book instead of a short story. But how did you know about my writing? I mostly do custom work, only by request; I haven't done open postings for years.

Rhonda: It's time for a confession. I stumbled across some of your work on an adult website about ten years ago. I guess I wasn't ready to think about you in those kinds to terms. I mean, like in a pornographic sense, it was pretty easy to recognize your "voice" as I was reading and when you were describing the woman you were having sex with. Well it sounds stupid now but it just seemed like you were talking about me. I guess I freaked out a little and that's why I stopped responding to your emails. Eventually I realized I overreacted, I should have been flattered. But by then I didn't know how to apologize.

Jeannie: I wonder which story you were reading. I suppose it doesn't really matter. I need to make a confession of my own. It was you I was making love to in those stories I wrote, it was always you.

Rhonda: why??

Jeannie: I don't know. I've never been attracted to women, before or since. I just looked at you one day and flashed on a vision of us together.

Rhonda: what did you see?

Jeannie: I saw myself doing something very "pornographic" with you. Lol.

Rhonda: What were you doing? You can't say something like that and not give details.

Jeannie: I'm afraid to say too much. I don't want to push you away just when I've finally found you again.

Rhonda: I promise not to run away this time. I really regret being such a chicken before.

Jeannie: Okay, here goes. I hope it's not too much. I saw myself lying naked on a bed, my tongue sliding slowly up the line of your thighs, moving closer and closer to the snug triangle of your panties with every pass. I don't know where each of our men was but somehow I knew that they knew what we were doing and were okay with it. I could feel your body tense every time my tongue inched closer to your sweet pussy and as soon as I felt it I just reversed and moved back down your legs until you relaxed again. I could smell your arousal more with every pass, and it was all I could do to force myself to keep reversing course until I finally worked my way high enough to dip my tongue inside your bikini panties and taste a bit of that sweetness whose scent had been driving me wild for the past hour. I could tell you were struggling to get past an inborn block against what we were doing but you wanted to so much. And I tried to show you with every kiss that you could trust me, that I would respect your limits even though I wanted you so desperately.

It felt like I could see inside your head, like I somehow knew you were thinking about the times you had tasted yourself on Eric's cock, remembering your own musky essence on him and how soon I would be relishing it that caused your juices to flow even more freely. At last my tongue slipped inside your panties and reached the sweetness of your arousal. I knew you had finally surrendered to your desires when you reached down and hooked your fingers into the band of your panties and slipped them up over your long legs, flinging them aside when they finally slipped free, and your knees relaxed apart, your feet tucking themselves almost naturally against my ribcage. Your pussy opened to me and I tasted that honey it felt like I had been waiting my whole life for . . .

Rhonda: There's only one thing you got wrong, I've never tasted Eric's . . . you know.

Jeannie: Wait . . . never? Like, not ever?

Rhonda: Well, the way I was raised . . . a lady doesn't do that sort of thing. Although, I am starting to wonder what it might be like. The way you describe things, it's like you are painting these beautiful pictures inside my head that make me see things differently than I used to. Please continue your story.

Jeannie: My hands came up to stroke your tanned thighs, unhurriedly massaging away the residual tension and pressing your knees apart gently. I rubbed my nose against your swollen lips, each damp curl grazing my skin and inflaming my desire to new heights as I licked a fresh bead of nectar from your cunt and savored its tantalizing complexity, more intricate than the most expensive wines. And now with your body in full bloom like a Georgia O'Keeffe orchid in every shade of pink and magenta, the colors deepening even as I gazed at you. The same rush that stained your cheeks when I raised my head to look into your beautiful storm cloud eyes and had me moving up your body to kiss away any embarrassment that still remained.

Your cheeks were warm and your mouth so soft under mine. You tasted of lattes and those cinnamon candies I knew you used to stave off the cigarette cravings that still plagued you from time to time. . .

Rhonda: Maybe I shouldn't admit this but just now when I read the word cunt, I felt an electric tingle shoot straight to my nether parts. I never use that word. I hate it. At least I thought I did. Because I got the same excited little jolt again when I typed it here. How are you turning everything I thought I knew upside down? And why do I keep interrupting you when I am dying for each new sentence? I still carry those candies around with me just in case. Please tell me there is more.

Jeannie: . . . from time to time as I kissed my way along your jaw, tugging gently on your earring and sucking your earlobe between my lips. I've always loved your ears. As often as I have tried to imagine what color your nipples might be or how your pussy would taste, your ears have always drawn me back. I've pictured kissing and licking them so many times, I feel like I have memorized every curve. Sometimes I would have a pain in my stomach from watching your earrings dance and sparkle and trying not to lose track of the conversations we were having.

Rhonda: Pink. Well, really sort of pinkish beige I suppose.

Jeannie: I'm sorry?

Rhonda: You wondered what color my nipples are. They are pinkish beige.

Jeannie: We're not talking about the past anymore. Are we?

Rhonda: I need to finish the confession I started earlier. I hope you will be patient with me, this isn't easy to say. I stumbled across your story like I said, but the real reason I stopped emailing with you . . . it wasn't your words. It was my reaction to them. With every line I read I could see myself with you. I could see myself as the woman you were making love to. And I wanted to be.

The way you described "my" body, the way you touched it, seeing those pictures in my head. I had such a strong reaction, things I've never felt before. My . . . well, you know . . . got . . . wet and I could see myself giving up my whole life. Eric, the kids, everything, to live in that fantasy with you. I wanted it so much that it scared me and I tried to shut you out because of it. I deleted your emails, erased you from my computer and told myself it never happened. Except I couldn't remove you from the place that scared me the most, my own head. No matter how I tried to deny you, you were there in my thoughts. Even in my dreams. I would wake up in the night, underwear damp and legs clenching convulsively, with shadows of your touch echoing in my mind. I kept hard copies of your stories hidden in the bottom of my pantyhose drawer and read them again and again, almost to tatters when no one was home. I thought my desires meant I was gay. I don't see how I can love Eric, cherish the life we have together, and still have these feelings for you.

I finally realized that I could never shut you out. And that I missed the real you, the friendship and that connection we shared. I wanted you back in my life but I didn't know how to reach out to you. I was so ashamed of how I behaved; it was easier to stick my head in the sand than to put any real effort into looking for you. But you found me. You didn't give up. You seem to have more faith in me than I have in myself. So here I am, leaping off of the cliff and praying you will catch me before I splatter on the ground.

Jeannie: I will never let you fall. What we have, what we could have, doesn't make us gay. It makes us human. With all of the complicated, tangled, and messy feelings that come along with that. You're not going to implode your relationship with Eric any more than I would destroy mine with Francis. We love them too much to ever let that happen. And it's not exactly like we are fencepost neighbors who can suddenly put a new spin on coffee hour. There is two thousand miles between us. What if we just talk? To each other, to our husbands, let's just communicate openly. We'll try just saying what's honestly in our hearts. I will start by saying that I would honestly enjoy the possibility of making love to you. At least once. If that's too much for you right now, then I would be happy just to email with my friend and never mention a sexual relationship again.

Rhonda: And I would like to explore that as well. And I want to figure out how to have better sex with Eric too. It just seems like we've been in a rut for years. It's mostly my fault. There are so many things I wouldn't do, things I thought wives, decent wives, didn't do. I'm starting to realize that I was pretty narrow-minded about a lot of things. But how do I suddenly tell him I'm willing? He barely even asks for sex anymore.

Jeannie: Tell him you read something that got your engine revved up, so to speak, and you wanted to give it a try. But that's only if he asks you what's up. I'll bet that if you just start touching him, men love to be touched even non-sexually. Just touch him, kiss him, give him little licks and bites if you feel comfortable with it. Push your boundaries a little bit really often and you both will find a whole new realm of passion opening up to you.

Rhonda: Will you do one thing for me? Write a story just for me. Something about you and I together. Francis can be there too. I know he always appears in your stories, it makes them very distinctive. I'm not ready to be involved with him yet but I don't mind if he's there. I just want to come and visit you in my mind.

Jeannie: I promise. But you have to promise to IM me tomorrow and let me know how it went. No stalling, no waiting for the weekend, start right now. Promise?

Rhonda: I promise. Love ya girlfriend!

Rhonda Baker-Warren has signed out of IM