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butterflies in my stomach the entire ride to my apartment. I didn't know what to expect but was assured he would take care of me. I would be fine. That I would like it.
    Once at my apartment we went straight to the bedroom. No idle chit chat. No unnecessary pleasantries. It was just right down to business. I don't think I've ever stripped out of my clothes as fast as I did that night.
    We quickly settled into an easy rhythm. He took some getting used to but once I relaxed I was toast, totally giving in to his moves.
    We started slow, with long easy strokes before gradually increasing pressure, speed, changing positions. First on my back until I relaxed, then to my knees to even deeper penetration. And what he did with my clit, I never wanted him to stop.
    I had no idea it could feel this way. I had tried bringing myself to orgasm plenty of times before but had never quite gotten there. I'd always been close, but never managed to tip myself over the edge.
    But with Bob – sweet, sweet Bob – it didn't take long. The first orgasm came too quickly. So quickly I didn't know what was happening. I tried to hold it off, but couldn't stop it no matter how hard I tried. It left me shaking and breathless but I wanted more.
    The second came on slower. It was less frantic, more controlled. Starting at my toes, engulfing me like a warm blanket before a wave of pleasure washed over me. It was one of the most satisfying feelings I had ever had. Afterwards I sank contentedly back into my bed.
    The first night with Bob was the first of many. Together he and I discovered what I liked and what I didn't like. How much pressure I liked and where. He's been there when I've needed a stress reliever after work when boyfriends haven't quite been able to get me to where I needed to be.
    On the few occasions boyfriends have been open to using toys, he was able to join in on the fun.
    If someone would have told me I would have lost my virginity to a vibrator, I would have been mortified. I would have told them they were crazy. There was no way I would ever use a toy especially for something as important as that! But I did, loved everything about it and wouldn't trade that in for anything.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

 
     
     
    Invisible Bisexual
    Delilah Night
    Delilah Night is an American living in Singapore with her husband and young children. With unlimited time and money, she would become either a sexologist or a pastry chef. She invites you to visit her website, DelilahNight.com.
     
     
    To the casual observer, I would appear straight.
    I’m married to a person of the opposite sex, and we have two daughters.
    I’m not straight. I’m an invisible bisexual.
    Growing up in a small rural town, I was taught to treat everyone the same. Yet my family expressed disgust at the idea of two men kissing in public. I would hear things like “why can’t they just keep it in the bedroom?” It’s better than “they’re evil and going to hell,” I suppose, but not by much.
    I learned that a relationship with another person of my sex was wrong, dirty, and something I should keep secret. I thought that there were only two possibilities: that I would be attracted to males or to females. The idea that you could be sexually attracted to both sexes was completely foreign.
    As I approached middle school, my sexuality began to blossom.
    When I stole my mom’s bodice rippers, I was a bit grossed out by the descriptions of the hero’s turgid manhood (and had never seen a penis), so I skipped those parts and focused instead on the heaving breasts of the heroine.
    I found a discarded men’s magazine at the campground across the street from our trailer and became fascinated with one of the photos: a naked woman, legs spread, fingers holding her labia open, displaying her clit (although I didn’t have any of those words, either. I knew ‘vagina’, but we mostly called it “down there”). I knew I couldn’t take the