” He follows me back to the kitchen where I notice Sir has three plates waiting. “Baby girl, sit and eat, and finish that juice. Good morning John, nice of you to join us again.”“Good morning, it was a hard decision after your proposal.” What proposal? What happened that I don’t know about?“I have not yet had a chance to tell baby girl about our conversation, I thought we may tell her together, and remember, no matter our feelings on the matter, she will have the final say.”“Agreed, although I can be quite persuasive as you remember.” Sir runs a hand along my inner thigh, runs a finger along my pussy, and kisses my forehead. He is proud that I have finished my plate but notices the look on my face is that of confusion. He and John tell me that they enjoyed sharing me last night, and believe I enjoyed it as well, and that they have already discussed the possibility of this being an ongoing relationship. Sir would still be my master, John would join us at times, but would also visit me. I don't even want to think about that.It was like talking to a girlfriend, rather than to a guy, when she had one of her chitchats with him. There was none of the underlying sexual tension that would inevitably creep into a man-woman thing. The playacting. The put-on vulnerability and giggly flirtatiousness that was expected of the woman. The barely-controlled aggressiveness that the guy was supposed to show. It was all so very stupid and so often turned sour. But talking to a gay man -- a queer, by golly! -- felt so right. So comfortable. She liked the feeling, damn it! And if that made her some kind of a fag hag, well then, fuck it!March 13.She started to give me a good-night kiss on the cheek and then I turned my head and our lips met. It felt good! Her lips were so warm, and I felt ... I felt the blood thunder through my veins and... ... And he had kissed her back. And put his arms around her. And that should have been the start of something or other. But it wasn't.March 15.All.
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