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Meeting Greta

A swim at the gym pool leads to an unexpected lesbian initiation.
I had just come from the swimming pool when I met Greta. Maybe that explains the way I reacted. Swimming has a magical effect on me. I get totally relaxed, even though I get tired. Being tired is actually part of the relaxation. All through my muscles I feel the sweet sense of rest. All the twitchiness is gone, the restlessness, the tension. And my mind is emptied too.

What takes over is a sensuous languor everywhere - in my legs, my arms, my back, and...down there. When I'm in the water I just feel kissed everywhere. I don't swim competitively. If I did, I would probably just be possessed by striving, fixated on the goal, and I wouldn't indulge my goalless wallowing in my body-consciousness. And the few times I've swum in the nude, at the lake, wow! The water rushing directly against my skin, against my nipples. But that's not an option at the gym.

So on that day, I had just come from the pool into the women's locker room, and there was the tall slim woman with the wire-rim glasses and the short natural blond hair. I'd often seen her in the weight room, from a distance. She didn't talk much with anyone but concentrated on her lifting. The men didn't hit on her the way they did on me, despite my wedding band. They sensed that she was too into her routine, and I never saw her even make eye-contact with anyone. But that day in the locker room, she looked right into my eyes and smiled.

"Hi, I'm Greta," she said. "I see you almost every day."

"Dana," I said, "I'm surprised you noticed me. You are so concentrated on your workout."

"Yes, but you're hard to miss. I'm not surprised the men always try to work out somewhere near you.

Have you noticed the way the male population of the gym shifts from one side of the room to the other, when you come in?"

We both laughed. Yes, I had noticed. Not that I encouraged them. Carlos takes care of all my needs, but it's fun to be noticed, just the same.

We were both heading for the shower and there was plenty of room. We had all five shower stalls to choose from since there was no one around.

"Want to share? Why waste water?" Greta had taken off her glasses and she squinted a little with her big blue eyes as she spoke.

"Why not?" I said, not so much because I had any eagerness to share this quiet time under the warm soft spray but because I felt it would be distrustful and impolite to refuse. What would I say?

We stripped, Greta pulled back the curtain and turned the water on. She adjusted it a bit.

"Do you like it really hot?" she asked.

"No, just warm," I said.

"Me too."

We got under the cascading water. It was just right. Greta squeezed down the spout on the liquid soap and cupped her right hand to catch the pink foam.

"I'll soap you up, back first, OK?"

I was a little surprised, but only a little. Being invited into a shower already made me wonder what she had in mind. She looked completely straight, but now...

"OK," I said.

The water felt just right, so warm, and Greta's hands were gentle and firm at the same time. Being soaped up was actually a massage. She was in no hurry. Starting with my shoulders, she went down my back to my hips, then my cheeks. Of course, our bodies bumped a bit into each other.

"Turn around, Dana. Dana, what a nice name."

I turned, my pulse was picking up. I didn't know what was coming and I didn't know what I would do. Greta squeezed out more soap, then started with my chest, then my breasts. My nipples were very stiff as her palms rubbed against them, but Greta didn't insist. Her hands slid down to my belly and my hips. I was waiting for her hand to go further down. It didn't. Was I disappointed, or relieved?

"Now your turn."

I put some soap on my hands and started on Greta's shoulders. To my surprise, touching her was even more arousing than being touched. She had the smoothest, most satiny skin I have ever felt, and the most toned muscles imaginable. I loved the unusual freedom of being able to touch and caress this woman whom I had just met only minutes before.

"Ummm..." she moaned, "That feels so, so good."

I noticed a very faint accent when she spoke. Maybe German? Maybe Scandinavian? It wasn't the time to ask.Taking some more soap, I worked my way down her back. Feeling some tension in her muscles from the lifting, I probed her lats, giving her a real massage.

"So good, Dana. I love it."

I was getting down toward her hips when it happened. My nipples rubbed against her back for the first time. It was an electrifying feeling, sending a completely new and thrilling sensation throughout my entire body. I know she felt it too, because she tensed up a bit. I had pulled back after the first contact, but now I deliberately let it happen again. She didn't say anything, but I felt her body slump slightly backwards against me, so that my breasts were now pressed against her wet skin. The water from the shower was sloshing through the dip between my breasts. It was such a sweet moment that it was hard for me to end it.

"Now your front," I finally said.

We were face to face. She was so pretty! I eagerly got more soap and started working on her chest and then her breasts. She had heavier breasts than me, and as I lathered them I weighed them in my hands, enjoying their softness, their jiggle. Her nipples were dark pink against her pale skin. They were very, very swollen.

We had not said anything, but I knew what I wanted. I was sure she would want it too. I bent my head forward and took her left nipple into my mouth, at first just lightly, feeling its sheer size against my lips. Greta put both her hands on my shoulders caressingly. I sucked the nipple into my mouth and at the same time flicked my tongue against the tip. It was an incredible sensation - no, not one sensation, but a whole storm of sensations all at once. My left hand was on Greta's right breast, and my right hand went down between my own legs, pushing against my swelling clit.

That's when we heard the door click open and shut. I pulled away and froze, looking into Greta's face as if she would know what to do. She bent forward and kissed me, quickly but deeply, darting her tongue into my mouth and then out.

She whispered, "Let's go! We'll go somewhere else."

We turned off the water and grabbed our towels. We each dried off. My hands were shaking, but Greta seemed very calm. By the time we pulled the curtain back, the intruder had left the locker room. The only sign of her presence was a large purple backpack on the wooden bench. We got dressed in a hurry. Each of us had come from work, and seeing Greta put on her dark grey pant-suit was like a strip-tease in reverse. She looks gorgeous with clothes on, as well as off. She could have been a model, I thought. Later, she told me that she had been. I put on my pants, shirt, and blazer. We grabbed our bags and headed out. In the lobby, I stopped to call Carlos.

"Hi, baby. I'm going to have dinner with a friend from the gym. Don't wait for me. Love you!"

"My boyfriend's back in Copenhagen," Greta said. "So I'm free as a bird."

Now that we were dressed, everything was outwardly "normal." Just two women friends, after work. I was very aroused. There was no hiding now. Sucking on your friend's nipple is a pretty clear declaration. I would have been happy to find the nearest dark, private spot and to get Greta's clothes off again. But Greta said, "There's a great little Italian restaurant on 47th."

It was very quiet, a weeknight. We got a table all to ourselves. It was dark and quiet and there was a candle burning at our table. I began to understand what a man must feel like when he walks into a restaurant with a drop-dead gorgeous woman on his arm. I felt so proud to be with her. Greta asked about my experiences with women. She looked surprised when I admitted that I didn't have any.

"Not even in school? I mean at the university?"

I shook my head no. I didn't think that I was the type.

Greta laughed. "You know, in Sweden, according to studies, a third of all women identify as bisexual. And that's not counting women who consider themselves lesbian or the ones who are straight but who like an occasional encounter with a woman."

She explained to me that she saw her boyfriend Nils about every couple of months during the school year and that he spent two months with her in the summer, when he had his holiday from his university. Having, she said, a very strong sex drive, she filled in the time by hooking up several times a week with women she met in lesbian bars and clubs.

"Casual sex has an excitement all its own. The variety, the suspense when you meet someone new, the way you can concentrate on pure sex without having any big emotional issues hang you up, the way you can just let yourself fucking go...! And all with women, without a man looking over your shoulder, trying to get a piece of the action!"

It was all new to me. But Greta's excitement was palpable, her face glowed, she grabbed my hand and squeeze it hard.

"But what about Nils, what does he do all with all the time away from you?"

"Oh, he hooks up! It's no big deal. He probably does it less than I do. I'm horny all the time. He's more a romantic than I am, but now and then he needs more than masturbation."

"Aren't you jealous?"

Greta thought for a moment before replying, "Not jealous, but sometimes I worry that he'll meet someone and then want to see her again and then it could get serious. So I encourage him to seek variety and to go with married women or women with partners."

I tried to imagine me telling Carlos to have sex with a married woman, and I just couldn't. What was Nils like? Was he bisexual too?

"No, not bisexual at all. The only times he's had sex with men have been with me, when I insisted on a threesome. He can easily get aroused and have an orgasm with a man, but only if I'm there to help. The first time was difficult. We even had a big fight when I asked for that, but then we made up, and his way of apologizing to me was to bring a friend to my flat so the three of us could all fuck. The friend was bi and quickly went down on Nils, but Nils wouldn't return the favor until I started the blow job and then pushed the cock into his mouth. After that first time, he has had no problems."

Surprisingly, given the way we were both thinking about sex, we both had a good appetite. The calamari were crisp and the sauce was spicy, and we both had roast rabbit. We went through two bottles of Barolo, and that may explain why I remember the subway ride to her apartment just flashing by. Even feeling her body through her clothes in the elevator was a thrill. I loved the way her large breasts felt through the cotton shirt and the full-cup nylon bra. Unbuttoning her was like unwrapping the best present anyone had ever given me. I had my mouth on her nipple before her bra was even off. I remember the feeling of it bumping against my forehead as I sucked and licked.

My right hand rubbed against her crotch through the fabric of her pants, and I could feel how wet she was getting. Undressing was not easy, because we were both hyperexcited and our hands were trembling. When we got down to just our panties I knelt and pressed my whole face against the wet cotton, rubbing myself crazily against her sex, even masturbating her with my nose against her big, hard clit!

She reached down and ripped her panties right off, so that my mouth could go right against her pussy, the first I had ever seen in real life up close. With shaky fingers I pushed her lips apart and started exploring inside the folds with the tip of my tongue. I loved the shades of pink and brown, the scent of mango, the glistening wetness, and most of all her big, dark, engorged clitoris. Sucking on it was like sucking on a huge tit, except that it produced even stronger reactions in Greta. She leaned back against the wall so she wouldn't fall.

"You are so hungry! My God!" Then she mumbled something in what I guessed was Swedish. The only word I got sounded like "lesbian." I guessed I was doing a good job.

Greta put her hand behind my head and pressed my mouth against her. I circled her clit with my tongue while I used a couple of fingers to probe inside her dark wetness. Pretty soon she was bucking against my face and shouting "Fuck.Fuck.Fuck..."

After she came for the first time, she pulled me up by the shoulders and pushed me against the wall and kissed me hard. When our tongues rubbed against each other, I knew that she could taste herself along with my saliva. Our hands automatically went down between each other's legs and started playing furiously. That's when I had my first lesbian orgasm. It was like what I had always heard an orgasm could be but never had. It was like being propelled out of my body and into the air, a tremendous rush with like a flash of light. I was orgasming all over my body, in my breasts pressed against hers, in my thighs, in my feet...

The next thing I remember we were rolling in Greta's bed. My right thigh was pressed between her legs and her right thigh was pressed between mine and we were rubbing our clits against one another while we kissed and let our hands go everywhere. Without even thinking about it - I wasn't, in any usual sense, thinking at all during this whole time - my fingers had found Greta's tight little butthole and were exploring, caressing.

We rolled and rolled, and came and came, and then we must have gone to sleep for a while with the lights on. It was about one o'clock when I woke up. I needed to pee. As I came out of the bathroom, Greta was awake. She pulled me down again onto the bed and we kissed a little more.

"I want to see you again," she said.

"We can meet at the gym, " I said, "anytime."

"That's good! We can work out together and then fuck!"

I got dressed, went down to the street and got a taxi. Carlos was asleep when I got home. The next morning it was clear that he didn't notice anything unusual. Even now, several weeks later, he just knows that I have a friend I work out with. In fact, I'm in better shape than ever, and he can see that.

Now that I've gotten further into Greta's lifestyle, I'm going to have to explain things to Carlos. It's not just Greta and me anymore. She's introduced me to a whole new way of living my sexuality. Our first evening in a club was another huge step forward in my life. But I'll write about that another time.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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