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We had pent-up sexual tension anyway. My friend went down on me because we had a vaguely flirty relationship previously anyway. While we weren’t crushing on each other hard enough to want a relationship or anything, we were curious about one another sexually and took whatever opportunity we could get to pursue that. In other words, it didn’t really come out of nowhere. It was thrilling, and cathartic, to have such a deep, generous conversation with three smart women about a question that’s been at the center of my personal and professional life for nearly five years now: Can lesbians, and women in general, survive the gender revolution?
Once Revenge of the Sith ended, we decided to call it a night. We got undressed and got into her bed. We were all cuddled up when I pulled the topic. I said something like, "Hey, there's something we gotta talk about." She asked me what it was, and I admitted my attraction to her an that I'd been thinking about our situation and that I confused myself and I thought we should have a talk about our "intimacy". She admitted that the attraction was mutual, and we decided that we might consider a homosexual relationship. Of course, I mentioned some of the stuff I saw here: "what if we break up," etc. she was more worried about our parents/relatives/friends we grew up with. I mentioned this down in the comments somewhere, but we don't come from a place that's very open about gay relationships. We both knew that there would be some trouble admitting our feelings to those people if we decided on a relationship. We talked for a solid 3 and a half hours. We ended up deciding to continue are lives (staying single) with the knowledge of our mutual attraction and the possibility of a relationship in mind an see what happens. After we gain some more knowledge, we'll make the descision. Deliciously dirty, 'first time' Lesbian erotica; a sexually detailed story of skilful seduction and sweet submission. Sarah, a shy young virgin-girl has always lived a protected life at home with her loving parents until the day came when they decided that it was time for her to attend college, meet other girls her same age, become a bit more worldly wise, and also get up to speed on her education. Since then, Ms. Jillinghoff has worked her editor’s mojo on at least half a dozen stories. Most of these have been posted; a couple more will hopefully make their appearance soon. Please join me in extending hearty thanks to Jacqueline for her willingness to take on an incredibly useful but unglamorous job that doesn’t pay.
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But we were not prepared for what followed. Next day as we reached college, we knew something was different. Did people stare at us for a little longer than necessary? Did the girls stopped talking when we reached the stuffy common room? We had no idea. I remember my first time because I was in the bath and the shower head ended up between my legs and was feeling quite nice. Got quite into it and then the shower head came off.’ When it comes to being a freshman in college, you will experience new things. For many people, this often comes with the fact that you have to use communal restrooms, as well as the fact most people have to share a room with a complete stranger. When I was coming to school, I was so excited to meet my roommate. I always pictured us as hanging out, and being pretty close. I found my roommate online, and it seemed like we had a lot in common but I soon found out that this wasn’t the case. We always seemed to be stepping on each other toes, and I realized that we had nothing in common. On Facebook chat, he was just like, this isn’t working. I got finished on Facebook chat. Minute of silence for me please.’ It sounds shallow to imply that, in the beginning, I fell for her simply because of her style, her stuff. But what attracted me was the care and attention to detail she demonstrated via a lifetime’s accumulation and curation of these things. Together they made up the way she wanted to be seen in the public eye, the way she wanted to move through the world. She was not a boy but a full-grown butch who, at 53, was confident in who she was and what she wanted.
After my partner came out as nonbinary a couple years ago, I felt even more confused and guilty about my conflicting desires to both lean into my own womanhood and flee from it. I knew my partner’s identity was its own independent, beautiful thing, something that was entirely their own. But I still wondered — as people around me whom I loved began to move away from the genders they’d been assigned — what I should be doing, if anything, about mine. I was pretty young, between 10 and 12, and I didn’t know what I was doing. It involved a pillow. I was basically dry-humping a pillow. My mum walked in. It was under covers but she knew. She. Knew.’ I was hesitant for a couple reasons. The first was that they’d slept with someone else, just once, when they were on a solo vacation, before we’d agreed to any sort of open-relationship terms; I felt like they’d forced my hand. (It’s hard for me even now to say they cheated on me, though that’s precisely what they did.) The second reason was that I’d watched some of my friends in long-term relationships experiment with nonmonogamy, only for the experiment to end in disaster: Somebody, inevitably, fell for somebody else. We’re both confident in our sexuality. There was never going to be any drama afterward of us worrying what our hookup meant and if we’re lesbians now or whatever. Me and my friend are both pretty confident in our sexuality and how fluid it is. For others, this kind of experience might be pretty intense and confusing, but not for us.
I was 12, and he was my 20-year-old camp counselor. For years, I thought I was asking for it -- but not anymore
I slept like a baby. I even remembered what my dream was about—that never happens! Despite what had occurred, there were no anxious thoughts trying to keep me awake and no signs of regret attempting to settle in. I’m no stranger to making terrible decisions when too much liquor starts flowing, but this wasn’t the case. I did start to feel a hangover trying to creep in, so I popped two ibuprofen and was out almost instantly. One Friday, after a study group at a friend's house, T. and I went to my mom's house. It was springtime, and I still remember that T. was wearing a cotton tank top and denim cut-offs. Perfectly flimsy and inviting. My mom wouldn't get home from work until late. The place was dim and quiet; perfect for the solemn and powerful event that was about to take place. The night before I left on the cruise, two of my best friends got married. Watching one of my friend’s dads talking at the wedding dinner about how much he loved his daughter and her new wife, I teared up a little and said something to my partner about it: “This is actually pretty nice, huh?” But they wrinkled their nose at me. They’re not a fan of weddings — the pomp and circumstance, the big, grand displays of public affection. These choices are homophobic,” I tell my new friend Dana. She’s technically my press handler, tasked with making sure I see the best that the tour operator, Olivia Travel, has to offer. So far, she’s more than delivered, but the weak karaoke selection — not Dana’s fault! — is a rare low point on a trip that, four days in, has already slowly but surely begun to change my life.
Seeing that I was still puzzled, she tried to illuminate some prison realities for me. “Look, Piper, things are pretty calm around here now, but that’s not always the way. And down the hill—forget about it! You’ve got lifers down there. When you’re doing serious time, or life, things look different. You can’t put up with sh-- from anyone, because this is your life, and if you ever take it from anyone, then you’re always going to have problems.” Lynette and I had only just met, but in the emotionally intense bizarro world of the cruise, where relationships of all types seemed to develop at warp speed and I was feeling enough emotion for 10 lesbians combined, I liked Lynette very, very much. A lot of it was, obviously, physical, chemical. But there were other things, too, that were harder to explain to other people or to myself. It was primary school. He was actually quite a rebel and I was attracted to the bad boy in him. I think I thought I could change him, We’d double-date with another couple and all go to the playground. But then it just fizzled out.’ Best of all, we now have something that Juicy Secrets has sorely needed – an associate editor, which we’ve gone without since the disappearance of our old friend Poppabear, who was last heard from over two years ago. It was rough going for a while after that. Eventually, once we’d reboarded the boat after our snorkeling, I did start talking with a few of the women I met at the Gen O mixer earlier that week, and it only took a couple of drinks for us to become the best of friends.When I was 18, at a house party. He asked me if I’d like to go out for some air. At this point, I had no idea what going out for air meant. He just pushed his face into mine and frankly, it was awful. But he’s now gay so I feel like it’s all worked out for the best.’ I think it started in 8th grade. I was at her house, and we were doing something- I don't remember what exactly. But she randomly turned to me and said something like "Let's practice kissing for our boyfriends!" (We were both in relationships at the time) I was totally weirded out by the idea of kissing another girl, but like I said I've always kind of had a little crush on her. So I went with it. We've done this countless times since, sometimes we do "romantic" little kisses to even making out....! We once rein acted a bunch of kissing scenes from romance movies.
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