“Insanity is doing the same things over and over again but expecting different results.” – Albert Einstein (maybe)
The above quote really smacked me on my stubborn bum. Many like to argue as to who really said it – doesn’t matter to me. All that matters is I need to take it to heart. So here I am staring at the sign, “Women Only. Men not allowed beyond this point.” I need to make some changes and this seems like a good place to start.
I had always thought I needed a man in my life. There has been one after another in a long string of bad relationships. Finally, I realize the common denominator in the wreckage is me. I need to learn how to be good by myself in order to be great for another. The Ladies’ Pond in London is known for being a peaceful retreat for women – hidden from the peering eyes of men. Nature has always been a powerful healing force for me, so I seek its medicine now.
From the gate, there is a peaceful path covered by a canopy of trees, that leads to the pussies-only pond. There won’t be a penis in sight. Just me embracing God’s creations trying to find me again. People call this “wild swimming” – swimming among nature. No chlorine. No chemicals. No concrete. Just the weeping willows, buzzing dragonflies, swooping birds, and a secluded pond nestled in the English countryside.
As I approach the pond, a sense of tranquility overtakes me. The calm water is encircled by trees, creating a secret hideaway. Sunbathers cover a grassy area, basking on their blankets. Many of the women are topless. Their melodic laughter and chatter fill the air. Everyone seems comfortable within their own skin here. Women of all shapes and sizes adorn the grasslands. The elegant scene before me resembles a serene watercolor painting.
I scour the grassland for a somewhat private area. Spying one, I head that way, trying not to stare at the naked breasts around me. As I reach my destination, I spread my blanket and sit down. Usually, I love to engage my people-watching hobby, however, I find myself in an uncomfortable position surrounded by partially-nude sunbathers. What is the etiquette here? I don’t want anyone to think I am ogling their breasts. Where is it safe for my eyes to peer?
I forego my usual hobby and just lie back on my blanket. As I look up at the changing clouds, I realize there is something I must do. The “old me” was insecure about her body. And I don’t want to be the “old me” anymore. There are no men here to judge me. I have nothing to fear from these women. I look around to see if anyone is watching. Stop it! Just do it. Quit being a pussy. And with that last thought, I lift my shirt up and over my head and place it on the ground beside me. Next, I unhook my bra. I tentatively glance around and to my relief, no one is paying me any attention. I lie back and watch as my ample, plump breasts leisurely spread out. Calmness consumes me and I drift off to sleep.
I return to this pond of serenity every day for three weeks. After a few days, I bring my laptop and start writing, or more journaling I guess. As thoughts enter my head, I jot them down – any random thought. Writing becomes a catharsis for this lost woman struggling to find herself. Then, I begin to focus my thoughts – force myself to think about what I really want, no need, out of this complex thing called life. I realize I don’t need a man to make me happy. I can find joy all by myself. Then, she appears.
“Hello, may I spread my blanket beside yours?” a soft voice asks, waking me from my writing trance.
My hands immediately shoot up to cover my nakedness as my eyes look up from my laptop to see who spoke to me. She is a petite young woman, smiling warmly at me with her pretty face. Her green eyes twinkle as she smiles.
“Um. Yes, sure,” I say, not really wanting company, but not wanting to be rude.
“I’m Amber,” she says extending her dainty hand towards me.
I remove my hand covering my breast and accept her hand replying, “Hello, Amber. I’m Carolyn.”
She settles in beside me and immediately removes her top revealing smallish, perky breasts. I can’t help but look down at her boobs. You know, it just happens. She has tiny nipples, well-suited to her breasts. I feel like a mountain compared to a molehill, with my big jugs. Often I wished for smaller breasts – the freedom to roam braless without the annoying bouncing. She casts a smile again in my direction and lies down, so I close my laptop and decide to lie down and rest also.
I feel her stirring beside me and open my eyes to see her poking her pinkish skin on her breast, watching it turn white from her touch, and then back to pink again. “Oops, I am letting myself get too much sun. Would you mind applying some sunscreen on me?”
Oh my. Such a simple request. Why does it cause a catch in my breath?
“Sure,” I manage to respond, hoping my reluctant tone doesn’t hurt her feelings.
She hands me her sunscreen and turns her back to me, lifting her hair off her neck. I squirt a little dab in my hands and tentatively reach over applying it to her smooth shoulders, rubbing it in. Squirting more in my hands, I liberally apply the lotion down her narrow back, taking my time, as I don’t know what to do if she turns around.
“Would you mind doing the front too?” she says lying back down on her blanket, closing her eyes.
Oh my. What to do? What to do? She says it so casually, I feel I am being a prude if I refuse. Inhaling deeply, I squeeze some more lotion on my hands and start at the top of her chest, working my way down to her breasts. My face flushes. How long do I rub it in on her breasts? If I go too fast, I draw attention to the fact I am freaking out. If I take too long, I might be read as being sexually inappropriate. Again, what is the etiquette here?
I look at her face for any signs of direction as my hands rub the lotion around her breasts. She moans a very soft moan. What does that mean? And then there is the issue of her nipples. Do I rub lotion on them? They are standing erect now since I rubbed her breasts. I decide to quickly rub a thumb over them, swiping lotion as I go. Her breast heave as I graze her taut nipples. Oh my. I have never experienced anything like this. I am feeling a little tingle below that I can’t quite decipher.
Our day continues without further awkwardness. Actually, the conversation picks up and flows effortlessly the rest of the afternoon. I don’t recall feeling this at ease with another person in a long time. I realize meaningful conversations were a necessary element missing from my other relationships.
~~~
I continue to return to my sacred spot on the grasslands every day the next week, and Amber joins me each day. Her sweet personality draws me in and I find myself thinking about her at night, and looking forward to seeing her the next day. I have not really had female friends before. They were so catty in high school and even college, I chose male company instead. I find this grown woman to be different though. Amber is very expressive and easily shares her life experiences with me. I feel comfortable sharing my struggles with her. She listens, you know. Really listens. And I find this a very attractive trait.
Every day she asks me to apply her sunscreen. As the days pass, I find myself wanting to spend more time rubbing her breasts. Her subtle sounds urge me on. We often make eye contact as I rub her, and I see something there – a deeper connection. Is this just friendship or perhaps more? Do I dare test these waters? These feelings stirring inside me confuse me. When we talk, her hand will lightly caress my arm or my shoulder. Goosebumps surface each time her delicate fingers touch me. I am discovering new erogenous zones with her.
One day, it suddenly hits me how beautiful the female body really is – especially our breasts. I have never really thought about it before now. My eyes linger on her shapely little mounds, so perfectly developed for her petite frame. Her gentle curves are lovely to me. As I rub sunscreen on her breasts, I watch her little pink nipples harden. My mind can’t help but think about sucking them. What has gotten into me? My mouth longs to taste one of her little buttons.
I decide to dip my toe in these unknown waters and bravely ask if she will apply some sunscreen to me. I need to figure out my feelings. She smiles brightly at my request, her emerald eyes dancing. I lie on my back and close my eyes. I feel her slender fingers’ first rub. Again, please. Her touch is so delicate. She meticulously works the lotion all over my generous breasts, kneading as she goes. Fingertips lightly trace my areolas, before squeezing my hardening nipples. My eyes shoot open, finding her watching me intently. She smiles in understanding. I like her touches and my body is responding. I feel a growing need between my legs.
Sitting up, she scoots closer to me where our faces almost touch. Leaning in, she brushes her pink lips against my cheek. I don’t know what comes over me, but I turn my head and return a light peck on her cheek. Our eyes lock, seemingly seeking consent from one another to continue. We find it, and close our eyes, as our lips experience the first touch. Mmmmm, want more.
Our mouths move against each other ever so slowly. It is my most passionate kiss to date. My stomach flutters. Her hand strokes my cheek, subtly urging me on. I respond by slipping my tongue in her waiting mouth. Our tongues meet and taste each other with the same ease as our lips. Oh my, my body is igniting. What is different about this kiss? I guess it is best explained in that I feel emotions behind the physical touch.
She pulls away saying, “Are you okay?” looking at me with hope in her eyes.
“I think so. This is new to me,” I say thinking how nice it is someone is asking about my feelings for once.
“How does our kissing feel?”
More concern for my feelings. Wow.
“Good. Really good,” I say, leaning in for more.
This exchange is really heating me up and I break our kiss to say, “I could use a cool dip in the water now. Care to join me?”
She nods her head, rising and extending her hand to me. I gratefully take it and we stroll hand in hand towards the pond. No one gawks at us. Women can be whoever they want to be here. There is a permissiveness within the Ladies’ Pond.
The water is cold – very cold. And I take the plunge, getting the sting out all at once. I hear the water splash behind me as Amber follows my lead. We keep our shivering shoulders below the water, allowing our skin to adjust to the cold temperatures. I like the cold. It feels purifying in a weird sort of way.
We swim away from the other women to find a place by ourselves.
Under the cover of the murky pond water, we both seek out each other’s breasts. My inexperienced hands explore her soft mounds as she squeezes my larger breasts, pinching my hard nipples.
“I wish I had your voluptuous breasts,” she whispers. “They are so much sexier than mine.”
“And I wish I had your perky breasts,” I say smiling at her. “You can skip the awful restraining bra without bouncing all over the place.”
“No way. Bigger is better. Everyone thinks so. I tried to wear the underwire push-up bras, but I couldn’t stand it. They were too uncomfortable.”
“And I feel like my breasts turn the corner a full minute before the rest of me. I don’t feel like they fit on my body.”
We both laugh at our admissions, and she leans in to ever-so-softly graze my lips with hers. I keep my eyes open, as I find her sparkling green eyes mesmerizing. I have never been kissed this gently and I like it.
“Hey, let’s just agree to accept ourselves as we are. How about that?” she says, before kissing my mouth again.
I meet her soft kiss and think about how nice to have this intimate conversation with someone who truly understands how I feel. Only a woman would understand the insecurities surrounding the size of our breasts.
My breath becomes ragged from her touches and kisses and I want more from her. She senses my needs and lowers her hands to my legs, stroking them in the water. I mirror what she does, and lower my hands to her hips and legs. I stop when her hand slides inside my bikini bottom and over my bare mound. I gasp.
“Turn around, sweetie,” she says, withdrawing her hand.
I obey and she pulls me into her as her hand moves around my front and down between my legs again. Her fingers slip in my bikini and caress between my legs. Her thumb finds my aching clit immediately, applying just the right amount of pressure. My eyes are glazing over.
“Oh my. Your touches do feel so good, Amber. So good,” I moan, squirming underneath the cool water, causing ripples around us.
She giggles, “You sound a little surprised. Did you not think a woman would know what another woman would like?”
“I guess I didn’t think about it like that,” I say settling back against her. She leans forward resting her pretty head on my shoulder, allowing her deeper access to my pussy.
I love being with her like this. It feels so sensual, whispering to each other, touching, deeply connecting the mind and body. My hips circle around and around, fully responding to her sensual stroking, under the cover of the greenish water.
One of her fingers dips inside my pussy and I turn my head towards hers, moaning and gasping in her ear.
“Feel good?” she whispers.
“Mmmmm. Yes, Amber.”
“Just relax and let my touches take you where you need to go. I’ve got you,” she reassures.
I feel safe with her. She seems to know what I need. I relax back against her and we turn our heads towards one another and nuzzle each other. This is the most intimate, sensual experience I can ever remember. She finger-fucks me at the right speed, and I feel my tummy tightening. Somehow she knows I am close.
“That’s it. Let it out, Carolyn,” she whispers, nibbling my ear.
She rubs my hot clit again and my world stops. I lunge for her mouth and scream out my orgasm, silenced by her kiss. She withdraws her fingers from between my legs and wraps me in a loving hug. In the midst of the cold water, I feel warm all over.
After I recover from my first woman-induced orgasm, I turn to her and grin saying, ‘Your turn,” sliding my hand down her tummy. My foot is fully submerging in the Ladies’ Pond.
~~~
Three months have passed and Amber and I continue to explore and enjoy each other. This relationship feels different because I have found true friendship and understanding with my partner. I had always considered myself straight – had never crossed my mind to consider being with a woman. I am trying to not overthink this – whatever this is. Maybe I am a lesbian, who just needs to be with women. Or, maybe I have found my true healthy match, and she just happens to be a woman.
Does it matter? We don’t really need labels, do we? Love is love …
