The Girl Next Door – My Ultimate Voyage Of Sexual Self Discovery

I’ll never forget the night I moved into my first house in London, it remains to this day one of the most incredible nights of my life and it totally altered the way in which I view life. I had just split from my boyfriend and had rented a place of my own for the very first time. It was a small, semi detached house in South Kensington with a small garden between me and my neighbour. The first time I ever laid eyes on my neighbour was undoubtedly one of the most erotic moments of my life; I was unpacking clothes and putting them in the wardrobe when I saw the lights flicker on in the house next door. The windows were wide open and the blinds raised to let in the cool summer breeze. It must have been about midnight when my neighbour’s bedroom door swung open, and once more a flicker of the bedroom lamps coming on caught my eye.

Nothing could have prepared me for the beauty of the creature who followed the golden glow of light into the centre of the room; she paused, framed in the window, bathed in the soft glow, wearing a black dress which clung to her form and fell in easy swathes of fabric to her knee, she freed her hair from the perfect bun restraining it and shook it loose around her shoulders. Slipping her shoulders free from dress it slid to the floor, standing in the centre of that dimly lit room in her scarlet bra, knickers and suspender belt she looked like film star. Mesmerised by her beauty I was too slow to back away from the window as she drew her blinds – they stopped – time stood still as I realised she had seen me!

I knew my moment of voyeurism had been cut short, I dreaded she might confront me over my watching her. But, to my surprise, instead of dropping closed, the blind began to lift, slowly but deliberately. Still in her underwear, her face came into view – she wore the most sensual of coy smiles as she gazed through my window and into my soul. She turned back into the middle of the room, she knew I was watching, but she didn’t seem to care. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as she removed her bra to reveal a full, yet pert, bosom tipped with perfect rosebud nipples made hard by the lilting summer breeze. Sliding her knickers to the floor and moving to the window to finally close the blind I saw the gentle curve of her pubic mound, and as if struck by lightning I knew I had to have her. The night I moved into my first house in London was also the first night I had an orgasm inspired by another woman.

She was my girl next door! Although that phrase does her immense injustice, a girl next door is typified by under the radar beauty – this was not she – there was nothing under the radar about her; she was a work of art, a study in feminine perfection, she had a face which made you want to smile, her body made you want to weep; her beauty was utterly electrifying, mesmerising, the kind of beauty which wil stop a person in their tracks. She was, and remains, the most beautiful human being I have ever seen.

Her ‘performances’ continued every night for the next week, I didn’t know her name, I had no idea what she did or where she was from, but I knew every single flawless curve of her body like it was my own. Her Golden hair, her slender legs and feminine stomach, the curve of her breasts, the folds of her lady flower and the shape of her generous bottom…I could close my eyes and conjure up her nude form, though even my imagination could not improve the reality. I was deeply in love with this mysterious woman yet I could not bring myself to knock on her door. I was by no means shy, or indeed a virgin but I had only ever entertained men, I had no idea how to approach a woman and I had no idea what my feelings meant…I also dreaded discovering that the girl next door was not someone I could get on with.

At midnight on the eighth day I waited patiently for her to open the blind once more and offer me another feast of unparalleled voyeuristic eroticism. As the blind lifted I felt my pulse quicken in anticipation, but instead of standing in her lingerie, my girl next door was sitting in the window wearing a robe, sipping a glass of wine…I had seen enough, it was my turn to perform for her! Shaking with nerves I withdrew from the window to dim the lights and change into something less comfortable. I did the best I could, but as I shut the blinds a little while later I prayed she would feel at least a touch of the pleasure I felt when I watched her.

Two days later I found the stocking, white silk trimmed with French lace – it had been posted through my letter box, it smelled of Jasmine but I knew that it smelled of her, on the stocking she had written a message which made my heart skip several beats, “Dinner tomorrow night 10pm, my house. Aurelia x”! What would I wear? Should I take a gift? Should I even go? Did she want a friendship or something more?

I decided to wear a dress, opting for handmade lingerie underneath, hoping dinner would not be all we were to share. I knocked on her door, holding a bottle of champagne in my other hand, praying she and I would connect on any level. She opened the door and her smile melted my worries as it melted my heart, she wore only a robe with her underwear underneath…when one might offer to take a guest’s coat, Aurelia held out a robe and asked if she might take my dress.

As I sat down for a light pasta dinner and learned of Aurelia’s Sicilian roots, I found myself disarmed by her eyes; so big and such a deep shade of blue…Aurelia was as charismatic, warm and enthralling as her beauty was astonishing. As the conversation went beyond small talk and began to cover our contact thus far the topic of sex came up. My heart sank when Aurelia told me that she was neither homosexual nor bisexual (neither was I, but I wanted Aurelia more than I had ever wanted anyone), but my dreams were restored as I felt her stockinged foot navigate my parted thighs and come to rest upon my moist knickers. The innocent wonder in her eyes had been replaced by something more vital, passion had darkened her eyes like a storm will darken the vivid ocean.

My relationship with Aurelia lasted for almost a year. It was a rollercoaster of emotion and passion like I have never known, driven by her fiery Italian blood Aurelia was either screaming or laughing…but either way I loved her for it. Neither us were confused about our sexuality, we are both heterosexual, but it didn’t matter, we loved each other for who we were not for the shape of our genitalia.

When I was sat in her kitchen that very first evening, her foot tenderly stroking me to heights of arousal, I couldn’t help bit wonder what it would be like when we finally made it upstairs to the bed, I wondered and I worried about how the sex would be. After all, neither of us had the appendage gifted to man. But what Aurelia and I discovered together was a world of sex which is totally different to that between a man and a woman! You might wonder how two heterosexual women could sustain sexual interest in each other beyond a first exploration…but I can assure you that there was as much passion and as much lust in our relationship as in any other I have had. It didn’t seem to register with either of us, it felt natural, although I must admit Aurelia is the only female ever to have attracted me on anything like a sexual level.

What we discovered together was a world of gentle pleasure, the sex was more refined than with a man. I suppose it must have something to do with the fact that a woman can truly understand what a woman wants. Her fingers caressed me softer than a silk glove and seemed to dance over and around my vagina with delicate perfection. Her Tongue never too vigorous, never too tentative; she could sense what my body yearned for in a way that no other lover ever has. It was the same when I pleasured her, in a way it felt unusual because instead of touching a man I was pleasuring a woman, but at the same time, the physical act almost felt more natural, more instinctual. I could feel and understand the reactions of her body, I didn’t have to think about what I was doing to give the pleasure she wanted, I could feel the needs of her body in a way I can only guess at the longings of a man.

With a man I tend to lead or be led with either words or gestures, each of us giving signals to the other so they understand what it is we desire; with Aurelia, there was no need for such words or gestures, instinct drove lovemaking which was tender and flowing, emotional and passionate. To say that we didn’t miss penetrative sex would be a lie, but I can admit that we missed it less than I could have imagined. We used sex toys together and we purchased several strap on toys, although they weren’t used so often – for the most part, we were both happy with the pleasure offered at the hands of willing fingers and eager tongues. It was not uncommon for us climax over and over again during lovemaking, something I also put down do that innate sexual understanding a woman has when it comes to a woman’s pleasure.

Outside the bedroom, Aurelia and I were inseparable, we would happily spend all the time in the world together; when we weren’t lovers we were the very best of friends. We would go to the cinema and not need to argue about whether to watch a wedding or a war. We could share a share a dessert at over dinner and it didn’t always have to involve melting chocolate volcanoes. We would shop for hours before retiring to a wine bar to see in the night.

Those six months were halcyon days within my life; the passion, the emotion, the love, the laughter – everything was exaggerated. I suppose what made my time with Aurelia so poignant, so passionate, was that we both knew the relationship could never last in the long run. Had we been homosexual, or even bisexual, then yes, but Aurelia and I are both heterosexual, there was only so long we could deny our instincts – and our sexuality began to tell. We parted ways amiably and we remain friends to this day, and while our time together did come to and end, neither of us regret what we shared together.

In the end we realised that we must find men to share our lives with. We needed that masculinity to feel whole. But, it taught me that the only way to know what you truly want is to try all the things you possibly can. Just because you think you would not like something, doesn’t make it true – until I saw Aurelia, I always said I would never be able to be with a woman, I was straight, I thought it would be wierd, uncomfortable…it turned out that I loved it.

Men and women could not differ more when it comes to sexuality. For men, sexuality is black and white, they know whether they are gay or not. Indeed some say they are confused but many of these are either bisexual or lying to themselves. But for women, sexuality has more shades of grey, straight men do not find other men sexually attractive, where as straight women can, and often do, develop crushes on other women. It is these shades of grey which allow for a whole lot of exploration and adventure.

Ladies, regardless of your sexuality, if you have ever felt sexually attracted to other women, or another woman like I was, then do not question yourself. There is no shame in your feelings, there is nothing to be afraid of. Have the courage to act upon your feelings, if you have always wondered the find out. You may realise you are straight, you may discover you are gay, you may love it, you may not…either way, you WILL know and you will have no need for further confusion and stress.

La Belle

www.labelleuk.co.uk

xxx