Mum, I Think I’m a Lesbian

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“What on earth’s the matter darling?” I asked my twenty-year-old daughter Sara who was crying when she phoned me.

“Oh, mum it’s terrible,” she sobbed.

“What is it tell me? I asked, of course fearing the worst.

“Mum I am sorry.”

Thinking that she was probably pregnant I steeled myself to think that at forty-five I might become a grandparent, lovely but a bit scary.

“Come on love what is it?”

She sobbed for a few moments before managing to mumble. “I think, er maybe, oh god I am probably oh bugger it. Mum, I think I might be a lesbian.”

Sara was in her first term at university some hundred miles or so from where we lived. When she was away at uni I lived by myself in a large flat in the Docklands area of London. That was part of the division of assets in my divorce settlement when I split from her father John three years previously.

She explained that she had met a group of girls when she first went to the university two months ago and that two were gay.

“So why do you think you might be?”

“Mum you can guess can’t you?”

“No love I can’t.”

“Oh, sod it, I am very attracted to one of them.”

We didn’t get much further that evening, although I managed to calm her down, comfort her a little and assured her that we would talk about it at the weekend when she said she was coming home.

She arrived home around six on the Friday evening having driven the Mini that John and I had bought her as reward for getting into the prestigious ‘red brick’ university; she had worked so hard. She looked awful and had obviously been crying. I cuddled her and said.

“Want to talk now or after dinner, I have made the shepherd’s pie you like, baked beans or peas?”

Smiling she replied. “I don’t mind mum but I am not sure I can eat much.”

I decided on peas and managed to get her to eat about half the sized portion I was used to giving her. Being European, well until recently, John and I had let both our children drink from, possibly, too early an age, but had preferred that to them drinking ‘behind our backs’ as it were and how it is so often in the US! So, we soon downed the best part of a bottle of red wine that relaxed both of us and made us ready for the chat.

We cleared the table and tidied up then sat side by side on the Chesterfield in front of the floor to ceiling French windows looking out over the East India docks and across the Thames to the O2 arena. I topped up our glasses and said.

“Totally up to you Sara, do you want to talk about it?”

Looking down and averting my gaze she mumbled. “Yes, please mum.”

“Over to you then?”

She started to cry and I cuddled her.

“Oh mum,” she sobbed. “You’ll never have any grandchildren, I am sorry.”

The consideration but near absurdity of that made me smile as I held her and stroked her long, silky, blonde hair.

“Sara this is about you not me.”

“Oh, mum I thought you would be annoyed at me because of that.”

“Of course not. And in any case,” I said smiling as I cuddled her. “It would ruin my Docklands’ street cred wouldn’t it?” as I tried trying to lighten the situation.

I was relieved to see her smile.

“Thanks mum.”

“No need for that S,” I whispered holding her with her head on my full boobs making me feel quite warm.

Breaking the cuddle, she sat up and dabbed her eyes with a tissue messing up her mascara but still looking beautiful, particularly with her long eyelashes.

“Well I met this group of girls when I got on the tennis team.”

“Playing again then?” I asked my mind recalling all the tournaments and training sessions I had taken her to when she was younger.

“Well I didn’t play much in the sixth form did I when I had to study?

“No and that’s probably why you got such good grades

“It seemed a good way to make friends at uni and I do enjoy it?”

“And you are pretty good love.”

“That as well, oh by the way I am number one on the team,” she said a little lighter.

“Well done.”

“I’m not so sure now.”

“Why not?”

“Well the team and the tennis group have training and open sessions and play matches, both within the uni and against local clubs and other colleges.”

“So, what’s the problem with that?”

“There’s a small group of us, the better players I guess, who spend a lot of time together.”

“And that’s where the problem is?”

“Yes, well if it is really a problem.”

“Well tell me more about it?”

“We all get on well and have drinks and meals together after practice and matches.”

“I see,” I said not yet fully understanding the problem.

“Oh, mum I don’t really know how to tell you.”

“Take it easy and take your time.”

“We were talking about boyfriends and whether you needed to be totally faithful to your home boyfriend when away at uni.”

“Interesting idea. So, what was the consensus?”

“Split decision but one of the girls Frankie asked if it applied to girlfriends as well. Then we got talking about that and got onto being bi as most seemed izmir escort to have had some experience.”

“Not prying love, but most?”

“Yes, mum,” she tutted. “I have messed about a bit but all girls do nowadays.”

“Er do they?” I asked rather hesitantly.

“Then Frankie said that she’s not bi,” and then announced. “I’m gay, yes I am a lesbian.” That stopped the conversation a bit until Melanie said that she thought she was too.”

I interrupted. “How many were there?”

“Oh, eight or so.”


“Anyway, nobody thought it was a particularly big deal as we all had known other lesbians and as you know when I was really into tennis we met quite a few.”

“Yes, we did didn’t we?”

“So why were you so upset?”

“Frankie’s my doubles partner and we get on really well.”

“But you hadn’t known she was gay until then?”

“No but I had wondered and sort of suspected.”


“The way she looked at me, especially when I was in a tennis skirt and found excuses to stand or sit close and put her hand on me.”

“Did you mind?” I asked.

“No and that’s when I began wondering.”

“Wondering what?”

“I realised I quite liked it.”


“And then after one match that we won when we kissed she moved her head so that I kissed her lips and not her cheek.”

She stopped talking then.

“Is that it?” I asked.

“No,” she said lifting her head up and looking into my eyes. “It was the start I guess.”

“I see.”

“No mum I am not sure you do,” she said starting to sob again.

“Like some more wine,” I asked.

“Better not, could I have a cup of tea please?”

“Yes of course,” I said standing up.

“No, I’ll make it,” Sara said also standing up.

We stood in front of the Chesterfield looking at each other. She looked terrible.

“Oh, Sara come on,” I whispered as I took her into my arms. “Nothing’s that bad.”

“But mum I have slept with her,” was the mini bombshell she dropped on me.

I was confused now and didn’t really know what to do or say. We had always been close and had talked a lot, but rarely had we discussed her sex life. Although she had one boyfriend, a black, professional footballer who she went with for a year or so when she was eighteen who we let stay at nights supposedly in separate bedrooms but who we caught in her room in her bed asleep and she told me as we rowed. ‘And yes, mum he has fucked me loads of times.’

Since then, some near two years ago we hadn’t broached the subject again, until now.

“Oh, I see,” I murmured.

“Do you, do you really mum?”

“These things happen love,” I said quietly as she started to cry again.

“Oh, sod the tea mum let’s have some more wine,” she said manfully summoning up a grin.

As she was getting the wine, white this time, from the fridge in the kitchen my phone rang.

“Hi mum,” it was my son Peter.

“Hello love.”

“Ok if Sophie and I come and stay the night, we’re in town and the trip out to deepest Essex is a bit daunting. This was not an unusual request.

“Yes of course but it’ll be a bit cramped as Sara’s here.”

“Oh, maybe we shouldn’t then.”

“I’m sure it will be ok, hang on let me ask her.”

“Sara, Pete and Sophie want to come and stay, ok if you sleep with me and they have your room?” I called out a little shiver going through me at the thought

“Sure, no problem be good to see them.”

“It’ll be ok,” I said into my iPhone, she can sleep with me and you and Sophie can have her room.”

“Fantastic, tell her thanks from me and we’ll see her soon.”

“I will, what time do you expect to get here”

“Half hour or so we’re finishing our meal and we’ll get a cab.”

“Ok see you soon,” I said ending the call.

Peter, my son, and his girlfriend of two years arrived at just after ten.

“Thanks Sar,” Peter said giving her a kiss.

She said it was ok and pecked Sophie, with who she didn’t get on very well, on the cheek.

“And thanks to you mum,” he said raising a glass to me. “So good to have a mum who’ll let someone sleep with them at the drop of a hat.”

We all giggled.

We had a couple of drinks and brief chat before all going to bed after watching TV and being depressed by the Brexit news.

Sara and I had slept together a few times when staying with relatives or when I had guests, usually Sophie and Peter, so it was nothing new to be undressing in the same room. As usually I sleep in the nude I had popped into the bedroom before we all retired and had got a mid-thigh length, button up the front, silky, white, loose blouse that I occasionally used as a nightdress out from the wardrobe and had put that on my king sized bed.

I used the bathroom first then undressed, slipped the blouse on and after putting the TV on I got into bed and laid on my back with the duvet pulled up to my waist.

“Shit,” Sara said coming out of the bathroom in her pale blue, diaphanous bra and panties. “I forgot a nightdress. alsancak escort I’ll pop and get one.”

“Be careful you don’t disturb anything,” I smiled.

“You reckon they might be er, having it off?”

“Might be, use one of mine.”

“You sure mum?”

“Yes of course, here choose one,” I said getting out of bed and opening the wardrobe. Sara came and stood next to me as I showed her where my, considering I rarely wore them, ridiculously large collection of nightdresses were hanging. “Help yourself,” I said feeling a frisson of excitement run through me as I stood close to her in her skimpy underwear hoping she wouldn’t see some of the more garish stuff a couple of boyfriends had bought me.

These frissons had happened a few times recently. Well actually, I had to admit when I was being honest with myself, not just recently either. It had been happening for getting on for two years but I had been unwilling to acknowledge what they meant or what caused them. At first, when I wanted to be near her, touch her and even hold her, I didn’t understand what it was. But as the feelings and desires strengthened so I had to acknowledge that they were sexually oriented. So, I researched it on the web and was relieved to find that it was not that unusual. Many, if not most mums, particularly sexually open and active ones, categories I fall into, so I learned had such thoughts and feelings about their sons mainly, but also in some circumstances their daughters. I was relieved, of course, but that didn’t help me avoid or control them and, if anything, as she got older they got stronger.

“This should do the job,” she said pulling a pair of pink, pyjama shorts and a top with spaghetti straps, set off a hanger.

“That’s good, you’ll look lovely in them,” I said going back to bed and getting in.

“Not really anyone to look lovely for is there mum?” she asked reaching behind her and unclipping her bra.

Like me, she is full breasted, a well filled B or a comfier C while I am a D+ I have noted from her washing. As she removed that I looked at her breasts. I hadn’t seen them for some time and saw that also like me she had prominent nipples that may well have been hard.

Overall, we are similar in appearance. Both of us are a little above the average height with her being probably an inch or so more than my five feet six inches. She is lighter than my one thirty pounds or so and doesn’t yet, but is likely to soon, wear glasses as I have to. We are both natural blondes with her having long, wavy hair that comes well beneath her shoulders and me having spiky with darker streaks just down to my shoulders.

“Only me love,” I couldn’t help smiling as she walked across the room and into the bathroom.

Lying there waiting for her to come to bed I had so many different thoughts and emotions rushing through my mind. In a way of course I felt sorry for Sara. No mother likes seeing their daughter upset and crying particular by things they cannot control. But I couldn’t bring myself to worry too much about her sexuality concerns. After all what will be will be and if she was bi or gay, so be it. At the same time, though, the feelings that I had for her that had laid dormant, were beginning no, had begun a few months ago, to rear their head again. In those few moments while she was taking a shower, things became a little clearer in my head, I saw the issues, but not the solutions or way forward for that was so dangerous to be as good as unthinkable.

She came out of the bathroom in the skimpy shorts and loose, low cut, silky top, her nipples making clear indentations in it. She had put her hair into a ponytail and looked drop dead gorgeous

“Wow you look lovely Sara,” I grinned rolling onto my side so that I would face her when she got into bed.

“Thanks, mum so do you,” she said rather pointedly nodding at my top on which another button had come undone so that one of my breasts was on show.

” Woops sorry love.”

“Don’t mind me mum, after all I’m gay aren’t I?”

“Sara don’t say that.”

“Why not, you said you don’t mind if I’m a lesbian,” she said getting into bed and lying on her back.

“Of course, I don’t mind that’s your choice.”

“Mum it’s not a bloody choice it’s how I am, how you have made me.”

“How I made you?” I asked feeling a little guilty as I turned away from her and switched off the bedside lamp so that the only light in the room came from the TV and the streetlights through the French windows. Although not overly bright it was sufficient for us to see each other reasonably clearly.

“Well not you actually, but it’s how I am, it’s not like deciding to be a vegan you know,” she said smiling I noted as I turned back to face her.

“And mum as a fully paid up lesbian that was a nice flash.”

“What was?”

“Your boobs.”

“Oh,” I stammered wondering where this was going feeling a little excited.

“Yes, you have nice boobs and a great figure really,” she said turning onto her side so we were facing each other.

Even in the buca escort dim light she looked so beautiful and I realised with a surge of guilt, desirable.

“Thanks love but I am not sure that daughters should say such things about their mothers.”

“Why not if it’s true? You’re pretty cool mum and you do have a great body?” she went on.

“Well if me flashing my boob has helped you stop being so down I am pleased.”

She smiled. “It’s not just that although it helped, it’s being here I suppose with my family and feeling the love, feeling secure I guess.”

“That’s nice love,” I replied feeling happy that she felt like that. I held her hands with both of mine. “I’m pleased that you feel that way.”

“So am I mum, but I am still worried about it.”

“It being?” I asked rubbing my thumb on her wrist and squeezing her hands.

“You know being lesbian.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Mum you are so patient with me,” she said leaning forward and kissing me.

“It’s what mums are for love,” I said my hand unthinkingly slipping onto her hip.

She slid against me, our bodies moulded and our breasts squashed together. Neither of us spoke. The only sound in the room was our breathing and the low murmur of the TV that I had turned down. Her head resting on my shoulder, I felt my excitement and arousal increasing at the same rate. I knew both were wrong, that they shouldn’t happen and I wondered if Sara would notice. She could have moved away as I wasn’t stopping her. She could have lifted her head away from my shoulder, taken her hand from where it rested on my waist and she could have stopped our bare legs touching, but she didn’t and we lay there like two lovers with our bodies intertwined.

“I’m so lucky to have you mum,” she whispered.

“As I am to have you Sarah.”

“I just don’t know what has happened to me,” she muttered doing nothing to change the closeness and the intimacy of our positions. Surely she realised that I was wondering.

“Tell me to mind my own business if you want S, but when did you first have feelings for other women?”

“Not sure mum, but certainly a couple of years.”

“So, when you were eighteen or so.”

“Yes, well actually after Jack, no while I was with him,” she said mentioning the one longer-term, a year or so, boyfriend, a black professional footballer she had been with.

“What happened?”

“The sex lost its zest I guess. I started feigning my orgasms.”

“And what did you put that down to?”


“How do you mean?”

“I started feeling violated when he put it in me.”

“I see,” I gulped even though I didn’t really.

“Is that why you broke up?”

“Mainly yes but he was a footballer and was a bit thick.”

“Yes, most seem to be,” I agreed recalling Jack’s beautiful body and gorgeous looks.

I didn’t think that it was appropriate to tell her that he had come onto me a few times going as far once when she was out to pull me against him and kiss me. He had an erection.

“So, this Frankie what’s she like?” I asked.

“You’d love her mum.”

“Don’t go that far love,” I smiled.

“No, you know what I mean, she’s bright, very bright, great, bubbly personality but not a show off, always interesting with something to say, puts people at ease and is interested in everything or so it seems.”

“Sounds great, what’s she taking?”

“Law, she wants to be a barrister probably.”

The duvet had somehow been pushed down and was not even at our waists but was just beneath our hips so we were both ‘flashing some flesh’ on our upper legs. We were still lying close together though we had moved away from each other so our breasts and stomachs were no longer touching but were still close and our legs were brushing. My hand that had earlier ruffled her hair and stroked her neck was resting on her shoulder and hers was on my hip. Our faces were only a few inches apart and even with no makeup at all, she looked fantastic.

“That’s nice, got wealthy parents?”

“Yes, dad’s a property developer.”

“And to look at?”

“About the same height as me, short, dark hair, slim, lovely green eyes.”

“Sounds nice,” I said amazing myself when I felt a pang of jealousy.

“Yes, she is, very slim with no tits to speak of but great legs and bum.”

“Mmmm that’s enough Sara.”

“Sorry mum a little too much information was it?”

“Well I don’t need to know about her boobs.”

“Well especially with what you’ve got.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well you are mum, as you well know, very well endowed in that area,” she giggled.

“You’re one to speak.”

“And we know where they come from don’t we?” she went grabbing hold of the blouse and pulling it so that my right breast was uncovered. “Oh, mum they really are lovely,” she said letting go of the blouse but leaving it to one side of my boob. I didn’t do anything and just lay there and watched her staring at my tit.

“So,” I began tentatively knowing I was broaching a difficult topic especially as my breast was exposed. “You have slept with her?”


“Many times?”

“Only once really.”

I didn’t respond right away as I let the really sink in wondering what she meant.

“Ok,” I mumbled

“Mum I’m scared.”

“Of what?” I asked slightly surprised at the change of tack.

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