Sexual revolution of Meli

Is it taboo?

I was silently taught early on that masturbation was nasty.  Only bad girls did that and it was unacceptable.  As children we all are curious and especially about our bodies.  Even with siblings of the opposite sex, I was never really sure what all the differences were.  I did however know the basics of (heterosexual) sex but it wasn’t enough to satisfy my curiosity.  I’m not sure what, if anything, perked my interest/curiosity in sex but it was prominent around 10 years of age.  I wasn’t sure why but I knew I wanted to kiss.  Why did I want to kiss that girl though?

At one time I was almost totally consumed with thoughts of sex.  As an adult, I know that my puberty could have been a much smoother transition if the adults in my life would have been more open about the taboo topic of sex.  My only outlet was self examination and I related to myself as often as I could.  Believe me, it wasn’t that often considering I was one of four (sometimes five) children in my home.  I shared a room with my sister until I was 12 and even a bed until I was 9.  My relations were limited to bath-time only.  I wasn’t sure what I was looking for exactly but I knew it had to something explosive!  Needless to say, I never found the fireworks I was looking for – not then.

My first sexual experience was void of fireworks also.  I silently accepted that sex just wasn’t what it was cracked up to be.  I was 14 at the time.  It wasn’t until a few years later that I was introduced to oral sex and the experience still left me feeling jilted.  I again silently shrugged and just accepted.  I was 17 at the time.

I experienced an orgasm at 18.  I thought I had finally found it the explosion I had been in search of since I was 10 years old!!  When the feeling passed after a few seconds, I was disappointed.  I then mastered the skill of masturbation.  I could have this feeling anytime with nothing but my hand?  There were days I could barely make it until the final bell of high school – running home to masturbate.  I wanted to live forever in that moment of orgasm because I felt empty after it passed.  I thought my life would somehow be different after such an experience.  There surely had to be some lasting affects.  I was supposed to be satisfied now, right?  Wrong.  I still felt empty; full of longing.  Something was still missing.

When I married while in my twenties, I was accustomed to sex not being all that.  It was just a physical expression of an emotion felt; no passion or anything  like I’d seen on television, movies, etc.  So, the fact that my married sex life left a lot to be desired was of no real consequence to me.  It was just an act.  A little cunnilingus, penetration – the end.  I watched talk shows and read books on how to keep my married sex life spicy and I tried.  I tried to duplicate the passion I seen acted out on television – it was like being in a play.  I felt so passionless.  I just accepted that this is the way it was to be sexually.  There’s nothing more to it.  Whatever that hole was, it was just something “wrong” with me and I ignored it.

I had thoughts of kissing and touching other women from very early on.  I ignored those thoughts because I knew it wasn’t “normal”.  Something was wrong with that.  I was supposed to have a boyfriend.  I heard the adults talk about a close family member frequently; he was a faggot – or so they said.  That meant he liked other boys.  They kicked him out of the house and our lives for that.  It had to be something very wrong with it, right?  But my thoughts of other women persisted and was a constant through the years.  They always turned me on and so those were the thoughts I dwelt on while having sex in order to stay interested and not just lay there and roll my eyes in the dark.

Once my marriage ended I finally decided to act on my thoughts.  I was just looking for one girl to experiment with – cure my illness.  Once I do that, no more thoughts.

I found her.  Met her on a chatline, talked for weeks before meeting.  We set up a date and I told her that when the evening ended, I’d be going home with her for the night.  We both knew what that meant.  I actually followed through but I must admit the drinks gave me a little courage to do that.

The next morning I awoke and I knew.  This was it.  This was the hole I had been trying to fill my entire life.  I will admit the sex wasn’t that grand but I knew that this was what I had been looking for.  This connection, this touch, this passion.  What was supposed to be one night turned into 18 months of a relationship.  My divorce finalized during this relationship and once that relationship ended, my lifestyle, my identity stayed with me.  I was free and there was no turning back.  That was 10 years ago.

I am a Lesbian.

Coming out of the closet or whatever was nothing to me.  I know that I’m blessed though.  My family accepts and has never given me any negativity because of it.  It was just another bend in my life and they met my girlfriend(s) just as they met my previous boyfriends.  It’s nothing to them.  No shock.  Nothing.  My (married with 4 kids)  sister even began hanging out with me at the gay clubs.

Don’t get me wrong, this lifestyle isn’t void of it’s own dating and sexual ups and downs.  Some relationships are great, others not so much but I am still free.  I’m no longer searching – at least not sexually.