Sitting surrounded by day-old friendships, house music, and cheap beer in the bar of a hostel that claims to be "Siem Reap's Finest!", I can't help but feel pleased with myself. The person I am in this moment- confident, independent, capable, open, spontaneous, smiling away- is the person I aspired to be. And it isn't serendipity which inspires my contentment, but the peace of knowing I chose the life I wanted to lead. "I am the captain of my fate…"
I steal a quick smile to myself amid the cloud of conversation, satisfied with the result a small investment of courage can yield. Whether crossing the world to move to a faraway land, or crossing the room to approach smiling strangers, there are few times swallowing my fears hasn't served a great benefit. Tonight is no exception.
Joey, the first acquantaince I made in Cambodia, and I instantly bonded over the discovery that we share the same hometown. He sits across from me, absentmindedly shuffling a deck of cards while discussing the magnitude of the Angkor Wat architecture. The sensation of a hand upon my shoulder diverts my attention. "Hey, what game are you guys playing?" a voice as soft as her touch inquires. Joey manages a reply, but I am distracted by admiring the woman before me. Her boldness radiates through her clothing, her voice, her willingness to insert herself into our evening. Instantly, I am drawn to her. As the cards transfer from Joey's hands to hers, the attention of the table transfers to her as well. She deals the cards effortlessly while explaining the preface of the new card game.
Throughout the night, the entire company becomes captivated by her charisma. Her stories are enchanting without a trace of condescension or arrogance. Her wide range of experience and capacity for compassion are evident in the tales of her travels. She is the kind of voice you could listen to for hours and still want to hear more. Ironically, she appears to feel the same about every person she interacts with, hanging onto every word of the speaker, regardless of who it is. When I share my story of the tuk tuk driver I spent my day with, her genuine concern for his wellbeing is both charming and validating. Her warm eyes invite you to share even the smallest of anecdotes without the fear they will be brushed aside.
During a lull in conversation, of which there were few, Joey stands to grab another round of Singha's. Andrea's hand brushes my wrist. "I love your bracelet," she says, her fingers tracing the the bronze design, "It must be special. I've seen you wear it for three days." She'd noticed me? Let alone my choice of jewelry? How have I not seen her before, this person who instantly brightens a room with her presence? As I open up about the significance of the bracelet, my trip to Namibia, and the person who wears its twin, she is utterly engaged, appearing as enchanted by my stories as I was by hers. The night wears on, and a few beers later I am aware of her fingers fiddling with the hem of my shorts. How long has she been doing that? I wonder to myself. The gesture feels both intimate and natural. Instinctively and without hesitation, I lightly trace her exposed forearm with my fingertips. Her amber eyes momentarily lock with mine, and the smile along her lips fills me with elation. "Are you ready?" is all she whispers in my ear, a question so simple, yet appropriate. I manage a nod.
Without regard for the rest of the bar's patrons, I follow her out and up a stairwell. My heartbeat begins to race upon approaching her door. She turns a key in the lock and reaches for my hand, guiding me into the room. Then, turning towards me, her eyes find mine again, the same intense gaze that caught my breath a few minutes earlier. "You just seem so…genuine," she whispers, reaching up her hand to brush my hair behind my ear. Blushing at the compliment that could have just as well suited her, I avert my eyes.
"Thank you," I reply, my voice barely audible. "You are intimidatingly beautiful."
She chuckles and squeezes my hand. "Can I kiss you already?"
I can barely nod before she leans in, her soft lips meeting mine, her fingers wrapping around the back of my neck, sending shivers up my spine. I part my lips in an involuntary gasp and her tongue meets mine in response. The new sensations are overwhelming and unique, yet with a hint of familiarity. Remembering a voice of written approval, I fully give in to my desires. Our passion builds as our hands explore each other's bodies, diving into new territory. I mimic her touches over my arms, my cheek, my hair. My breath escapes me when her hand slips under my tank top and up my lower back. I stretch my arms overhead and she removes my shirt, backing me up to the bed in the process.
Suddenly nervous that I cannot reciprocate the pleasure she seems ready to indulge me in, I tense up. She instantly sense the change in my demeanor. "Megan, are you ok?" she inquires.
"I just…I've never done this before…" I don't realize until the words have left my lips that I've said the same sentence before, in a slightly different context. "…with a woman" I add to clarify.
Smiling down at me, she kisses my forehead. "Nothing will happen that you are not comfortable with. If you'd like to keep talking instead, I would be happy to." I simply kiss her in reply, melting away all of my self-doubt and stigma surrounding this "taboo" affair. Her hands return to my body, and mine to hers. When she finally cups my breasts, goosebumps spread over my skin, and I am filled with an ache to be touched. Taking my moans as an invitation to continue, her right hand reaches behind my back to unclasp my bra. Her left fingers and her mouth find my stiffened nipples. I can't help but display my ecstasy on my face. Without thinking, I softly squeeze both her breasts in my hands. The way she bites her lip encourages me. Overcome with curiosity and lust, I slip my fingers under her bra, my thumbs sliding over nipples slightly larger than my own. Her eager mouth returns to mine, and we kiss for what seems like an hour, continuing to touch and feel and explore the beautiful human lying on top of me.
Just when the aching between my legs becomes unbearable, she slides down the bed, her mouth making a path from my neck, between my breasts, down my stomach, to the button of my jean shorts. "Is this ok?" she whispers, looking up at me.
"Yes," I reply, aware and accepting my own desire for what is to come next. She unbuttons my shorts, unzips them slowly, slips two fingers through my belt loops, sliding them down my legs. Her hands slide back up my thighs to the bikini bottom I am still wearing. She swiftly removes it as well. Her soft brown hair falls over my hips when she tips her head down. Her warmth breath against me is enough for me to squirm. She bites her lip once once, sneaking a look at me before bringing her lips to my pussy. I close my eyes, altogether overwhelmed by the pleasure taking over me. How did this happen? How is something so foreign, something that has never before occurred to me, so satisfying and exciting? One look down at her is enough to send me over the edge. A woman, who is by anyone's definition very sexy, is gliding her tongue across my wet clitoris. The sheer exotic nature of this act thrills me, a thought I have never before permitted or divulged in, a thought I can't imagine saying aloud. Her slim fingers plunging inside of me interrupt my thoughts. The combined sensations of her tongue and her stroking fingers overtakes me, my body writhing beneath her. My heavy breathing is interrupted with the moans I cannot stifle. Panting, I succumb to her touches.
With a final kiss, she crawls up into the bed next to me. We lay together for a moment, my mind sorting through all of the feelings radiating through me. "Before I forget," Andrea whispered, one hand reaching over the bed for her purse, "will you sign my book with your contact information? I'm keeping a record of the most important people I meet during my travels?" I sign the book, not sure what it means. My signature. This night. Her. The next morning, she leaves the hostel without a goodbye.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/2l8tfu/exploring_new_sexual_territory_during_a_trip_to