Finding my footing, coming to terms with the dyke in me

After college I went to work for a large organization. The supervisor I was assigned to was a mid thirties single woman, but attractive. She 'looked' at me funny and everything. One of the other girls in our department whispered that Janet liked the girls, but I knew that already. I had never been around someone that I thought could be gay.

It was many months later, after my first review and everything, that Janet just told me. "I need to go out and get lucky, I need some hot pussy." Really? She was telling this to me. It was the follow up "where do you go? when you need to get lucky". I told her that I went out with friends but no one was looking to get lucky.

She asked me go with her, to be her wingman. She was very specific, she wanted a girl with that look, like the girls that work at the pizza parlors. Long and thin with nice boobs and tight ass. She complained to me that being a dyke was harder than it looked. Most girls were turned off by it. Did I think she was too much of a dyke?

We went to this bay bar, well a lesbian bar. It was one that filled up early with younger women, lots of dancing and hitting on each other. My supervisor was definitely too old for that crowd. I ran into a couple of girls I knew and I introduced my supervisor to them. They assumed, they told me later, that I was dating my mother.

That night my supervisor ate my pussy. She told me when she was eating me, that she knew from the day she hired me that I was one of her girls. I felt uncomfortable with her, partly because she was fifteen years older and partly because I worked for her. But she wanted pussy that night and I was all that was available.

It was hard for me to try and adjust to her dyke personality. It's like she had balls or something. She came on like a man, I'm talking about her dominant behavior with me. At work everyone knew she was bossy, had balls between her legs. But now she was naked with me, she wanted to be the one fucking.

I suppose that I had never asked myself if I had any dyke behavior. But with her it was coming out, the more she lorded it over me, the more dyke I became. Until one day I pushed her off and told her to give me some breathing room. I never went back to being submissive and quiet. I went out one night alone, I needed my space, and ended up with this girl. Twenty four, a year younger. She was so small, so sweet, so nice, and her pussy was so sweet, so nice, so small.

There in living flesh was my answer. Yes I was a dyke and I liked soft girls. And I really liked this girl. And she was one of those girls that likes to hold hands and she likes to get under a blanket to watch a romantic movie, of girls. I love watching a movie of a girl being romanced by a dyke woman. She is my, and I emphasize MY girl. My supervisor, she's out there looking for that pizza waitress.

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