“But you’re too pretty to be a lesbian.” I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard that ridiculous and infuriating objection from both men and women, and I wouldn’t want to try. What’s even worse is when they follow that up with, “You’re kidding, right, Amy?”
Yes, I’m pretty. I’ll admit it. But why does that mean I’m not a lesbian? Is there some sort of cut-off point? I’m petite, but I’m not flat. I have well-defined curves all over, I’m just small and thin. I have a delicate, young-looking sort of face. I have almost-curly brown hair to my shoulders and hazel eyes. My lips are a little pouty. I’ve taken taekwondo so my arms and legs are muscle-toned. My hips roll nicely when I walk. And, yes, I look pretty damned cute in my braces.
Where in there did I pass the, “Sorry, Amy, you’re not a lesbian anymore,” point?
“Well, you mean you’re bi, right?” some will follow-up.
No, I’m not bi. I don’t hate men, but I can’t get emotionally attached to them the same way, and I’m not attracted to them. Yes, I’ve seen a penis before. Yes, it was erect. No, it didn’t stir some hidden desire inside me.
“Oh, so you’re a virgin.”
No! I’m not a virgin. I am sexually active and in a committed relationship with a wonderful woman my own age.
I will admit, though, that I’m not particularly proud of how I lost my virginity. It was a couple years ago, around the time of my 18th birthday. At the time I was dating Angie, a cheerleader for the high school basketball team. We were seniors and had been dating for a couple of years at that point, but Angie especially was committed to waiting for sex until we could be life partners.
Well, the, “You can’t be a lesbian” stuff was laid on pretty thick in high school. There was plenty of room in people’s imagination for lurid fantasies about cheerleader locker-room lesbo orgies, but the idea of a cheerleader in a committed, basically chaste lesbian relationship was not something anyone in our school could handle. In their minds, Angie and I were just close friends who liked to make believe about being lovers.
A couple weeks after I turned 18, I decided I’d had enough. I still loved Angie, but I needed the world to accept that I was a lesbian, and there was only one way I could think to do it.
I approached a girl named Danielle, a 19 year-old high school senior with an air of exotic maturity about her, as well as a reputation as, well, a dyke and a slut. It was rumored that the only reason she’d finally made it to her senior year at 19 was a dalliance with the female assistant vice principal. I didn’t know if that was true, but her reputation counted for everything.
Danielle was sitting by herself on a bench outside of school waiting for her ride when I approached her. She was attractive, but rebel enough in her look that she didn’t have to put up with people dismissing her lesbianism. She was a gorgeous native Alaskan with creamy porcelain skin of an almost caramel hue, shiny black hair, flinty brown eyes, and an incredible figure. But she also had three nose-rings and a tattoo of a marijuana leaf on the back of her right hand. In Fairbanks that meant she was allowed to be a lesbian.
“Hi, Danielle,” I said, wishing my voice weren’t so sweet and perky.
She looked at me and nodded silently. She knew well enough who I was, but she didn’t really have anything to talk about with me, as far as she knew or cared.
“I need your help,” I told her simply, wishing I’d dressed sexier.
She looked at me questioningly, but still didn’t speak.
No reason to not just say it, I decided. “I need you to take my virginity and I need the world to know about it.”
She narrowed her pretty eyes. “How romantic.”
My cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Danielle, I’m sorry. I know this is rude, but I’m sick of no one believing I’m a lesbian. I love Angie, but I need to prove myself.”
“What, you want me to take your ass with a dildo in the gym while a bunch of people watch?”
I blushed even deeper. “Fuck you,” I finally said.
“No, fuck you,” she returned, getting up to walk you. “You’re too insensitive to be a lesbian.”
That burned, and I reeled for days. Then, on Angie’s 18th birthday, I had myself a plan.
My mom was going to be out of town on Friday night, so Angie and I made special plans for me to cook her dinner at my house. I told her to be prepared to spend the night, and while she was hesitant, I insisted that she at least be prepared to stay, even if she changed her mind later. She agreed, and the rest of the week, our hearts were aflutter and our stomachs full of butterflies.
And my spirit was still full of anger and pride. It’s almost painful to remember, but so intent was I on proving myself that I set up two hidden webcams in my house. One in the living room attached to my laptop and the other in my mom’s bedroom, attached to her computer. I even signed up an on-line site where I could post the videos, and used my own full name in screen name. I wanted there to be no doubt.
When Friday evening rolled around, I was excited and nervous all at once. I dressed in a pleated denim skirt with a light blue peasant blouse. Angie had seen my nipples once before and had been captivated by them, so I wore no bra under the lightweight top, which was loose enough that only shadows hinted at the sweet tidbits by which she was enthralled.
When Angie arrived I nearly regretted my plan, because she was such the picture of innocent beauty, but I did want to make love to her badly, and I told myself the video was inconsequential to that. A side benefit. The real point was that we would express our feelings for one another with intimate physical connection.
Angie was not your stereotypical high school cheerleader. That’s not to say she wasn’t gorgeous; she was, by anyone’s standards. But her beauty was more mature. She wasn’t heroine chic and she didn’t walk around showing off her tummy to everyone. She was a normal girl who just happened to be absolutely beautiful. Her face was round, with shining green eyes and softly turned lips, all framed by dark brown curls which hung to her chin. Her skin tanned easily, and was already olive-complected by late April. She was just about six-foot tall. Her figure was in the same proportions as mine, but the extra 10 inches translated to magnificent curves. I was especially enchanted with her thighs, of all things. I loved her in her cheer skit because it showed of her thighs so well.
That night, though, Angie looked like a 1980’s girl. She wore tight stone-washed jeans and a red-sweater of a white button-down blouse. On someone else it would have looked old and tired. On her it looked sweet and hot at the same time.
We kissed on the door step, and then we went into the kitchen so I could finish making dinner. I was preparing a pasta salad with light Italian seasoning and white meat chicken. As I set out the finished product on two plates on the breakfast table, I also got out two wine glasses and a bottle of Chablis from the fridge.
“Wine?” Angie asked with her eyebrows raised.
“Come on, it’s your birthday we’re celebrating,” I insisted. “My mom won’t find out. It’ll be fun!”
She was reluctant, but gave in, and we sat eating, drinking the wine, and chatting. It was a wonderful meal and we were having a lot of fun by the time we went to sit in the living room. Neither of us were really drinkers, so the two glasses of Chablis we each had had us pretty light-headed.
Which was, of course, part of my plan. We sat on the couch, cuddling and watching a movie. I made sure that my breast pressed against her so that she could feel my hardening nipple against her arm. I kicked off my shoes and curled my feet up under my skirt, slowing laying down so my head was in her lap. I drew her hand slowly down to my side, then after a few minutes, onto my breast.
Even through the fabric I loved the way her hand felt on my flesh, and I knew there was no turning back.
At the end of the movie, I rolled over so that I was looking up at her. I reached up, drew her face down, and we kissed deeply. Her tongue felt hungrier than usual, more exploring.
Breaking off for breath I asked softly, “Are you staying the night?”
She slid her hand up inside my blouse, firmly covering my breast. My nipple ached under her palm. Her eyes burned into mine. “Yes, my love,” she said, moving her mouth back to within an inch of mine. “Yes, my love, I’m staying the night.”
She took my upper lip between her lips and sucked gently while she fondled my breast. I slowly scooted myself up so that I was sitting on her lap to kiss her better. By that time her hand was moving all over both of my breasts.
“How does it feel to finally touch them?” I asked, kissing my way slowly from her mouth along her jaw line, down her throat.
“Like heaven,” she said, her head back, her eyes closed. Her hand didn’t slow down, but the other one slid inside the band of my skirt, caressing my ass through my panties.
“I love you,” I told her, slowly lifting her sweater off over her head, wishing it didn’t force her to momentarily stop touching me.
“I love you too,” she said, the hand on my ass now daring to just barely touch bare flesh under my panties.
“I want you,” I groaned, unbuttoning her blouse and kissing my way between her cleavage. She wore a black lacy bra, and I desperately wanted to rip it off and reveal her large breasts, but I forced my self to wait.
“I want you so bad, Amy,” she agreed.
Suddenly I slipped from her lap and knelt beside her on the couch. I began covering her tummy with kisses, running my tongue around in her belly button and just generally massaging her soft flesh with my lips and tongue. This excited her greatly and she bucked up towards me. I started to rub and squeeze her crotch through her tight blue jeans.
“God, Amy, I’m so ready for this,” she panted.
I sucked for a moment on her belly button, careful not to cut her with my braces. “You’re ready make love to your little lesbian time bomb?”
She pushed my face down towards her lap. “As long as we both explode, honey.”
I ran my tongue along the warm crotch of her jeans and then slid to the floor. I took her hand. “Let’s go,” I said simply, guiding her up the stairs. I was still fully dressed. Angie’s sweater was in the living room and her blouse was unbuttoned, showing off her impressive cleavage in the black lacy bra she had worn.
At first I led her towards my bed room, but she stopped me and motioned towards the door to my mom’s bedroom. “In there,” she said with a sweet smile. “You’ve always wanted to.”
It was true. It was kinky, and I couldn’t believe she was actually going for it, but my mom still slept in the bed in which I was conceived, and I had always fantasized about loving my virginity there. Become a woman in the same place I became a person. I didn’t fight her suggestion.
We went into my mom’s bedroom and stood in front of the mirror. I stood behind her, tiny enough that I was almost disappearing from view as I slipped the blouse off her shoulder. I lay my cheek on her back, kissing her softly and embracing her, my hands massaging her breasts through her bra. I felt her nipples respond and it thrilled me to death.
I looked in the mirror and saw that Angie was watching our reflection with a dreamy smile on her face. I kissed her between the shoulder blades as I lowered my hands to the zipper on the front of her jeans and started to lower it. As her panties were exposed they were shown to be damp, and I could smell her scent. I shuddered and took a sharp breath.
“God, I love you so much, Angie,” I groaned, sliding down to my knees behind her, dragging my open wet mouth down the length of her spine, into the elegant swoop of her lumbar curve, and as it approached her jeans, I pulled those jeans down to the floor.
Looking up at her ass hanging there in black, lacey panties was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen to that point in my life. My hands reached around to her front, feeling the wetness of her panties, and I rubbed her moistening mound through her underwear as I slowly kissed my way up from her ankle to her calf to the back of her knee, to her perfect thighs…
After satisfying my lust on the back of her thigh and rubbing her crotch to state of sloppy arousal, I stood and slowly went around to her front, slipping between her and the mirror. Animal heat in both our eyes, I kissed her and caressed her back. As our kiss went on and got deeper and more aggressive, I undid her bra in the back and stepped back to slip it off her and admire the view.
I literally gasped. “God, you’re so beautiful, Angie,” I moaned, pulling her back to me and moving my open mouth toward one breast.
“No no no,” she said, pushing me away teasingly. “You’re still fully dressed, girlfriend.”
Eager to change that I reached down to rapidly pull by peasant blouse up over my head, but Angie stopped me again. “You got to have fun with me, now it’s my turn.”
And then this tall, statuesque beauty bent over at the waist, bit down on the hem of my blouse and slowly raised it up toward my head. I lifted my arms to help her get it off me, but as she raised it with her teeth to chest level she paused in her ascent. Unable to resist, she began rubbing her cheek on my hard nipples, my top still in her mouth. She moaned with pleasure, and I took a sharp breath through clenched teeth. God, it felt so good…
Unable to draw out her own torture of me any longer, Angie took the top of the rest of the way with her hands, and unceremoniously yanked my skirt to the floor. We were now both in nothing but our soaked panties.
Angie took my hand and led me over to the bed, picked me and lay me down on. The bed was unmade and my mom had left her nightgown and yesterday’s bra and panties on it, but we didn’t stop to pick them up. We were past the point of details. As soon as I was on the bed, Angie was on top of me, and we were kissing and fondling one another. Mouths flew from mouth to throat to breast, hands caressed ass, thigh, and crotch.
We rolled around on the bed like a couple of mad women, our faces reddening, our breath getting ragged. We groaned and grunted and told each other how much we loved each other and how much we wanted each other. The fever reached a boiling point when Angie rolled me on top of her, getting me caught up in my mom’s nightgown, and pushed her finger between my panty-covered lower lips.
I screamed and kissed her a little too carelessly, my braces scratching her throat in reckless passion.
“It’s time,” I said.
“God, it’s so past time,” she countered.
We had long ago decided with what precise act we would take one another for the first time. I untangled myself from my mom’s nightgown, and turned so that I was straddling Angie’s chest, facing her toes. She slowly spread her legs, drew her feet up. My mom’s old panties were beneath her, so I threw those to the side.
Then, in unison, she lifted herself slightly off the bed and I lifted myself slightly off her. Together, at the same time, we slipped each other’s panties off, helping our lover my moving our legs however was necessary to allow the panties to come off and not break our main position.
We both uttered words of sheer marvel at one another. My pussy was neatly trimmed with a landing strip, hers untrimmed but naturally close and tidy. Maintaining our simultaneous action, we each bent ever-so-slowly inward, smelling our lover, then placing a soft kiss in the middle of her labia…
…we both let out great cries of pleasure at the sensation of feeling our lover’s intimate kiss and tasting our lover for the first time. After that it was an explosion of awkward but passionate love-making. We were inexperienced, but knew what we wanted and were learning pretty quickly what felt good to us and what made our lover cringe with pleasure.
Neither of us had ever achieved orgasm before, so it was a shock when, in the middle of lapping and tongue-fucking, our bodies suddenly clenched up on us and our muscles jerked suddenly and then released like a bursting dam. We spasmed around each other. Fluid squirted from Angie into my face. I just suddenly got very very wet around Angie’s face. And when the glorious tremors had subsided, I immediately crawled up to snuggle with her. We kissed, we caressed, we cuddled.
It was all so very passionate and so very sweet.
And I had it all on video. And, for a moment the next day when Angie left to go cheer, I thought about destroying the video. Then I thought about keeping it and just watching it myself when I wanted to masturbate. And then I ran into one of the girls at the grocery store who never believed we were lesbians. I ran home, edited the video, and posted it on Saturday evening.
On Monday, at school, I started to spread the word about the video through the rumor mill and by Thursday someone came up to me. “Hey, I’ve gotta know, Amy. That’s not really you in that video everyone’s talking about is it? I mean it’s a hot video, but you’re too pretty to be a lesbian.”