A confirmed lesbian’s point of view

I really enjoy walking through the mall on a Friday
night. Why? I like seeing the growing wolf cubs practice
their time honored craft.

I laugh as they watch me walk by, judging me like I’m a
side of beef. A few have even tried their lines. None
have worked, and none ever will. I am a lesbian. I’m
also black.

I remember clearly the first time I had sex. It was not
exactly what I had expected it to be, but it was not a
disappointment. He was a skilled lover, and I really
liked it. Yet I felt that something was not quite right.
Oh, I liked the feel of his thickness as it soothed the
itch between my thighs with its constant in and out
technique, but I just knew that this was not all I
wanted from sex.

The night I slept with a woman, was when I knew what I
wanted.

I Don’t know what it was. Maybe it was her soft skin
that I was missing. Perhaps it was the gentle way her
tongue played with my clit. I don’t know, and really
don’t give it much thought now. All I know is that I
would rather have sex with a woman that with a man.

Although I will say one thing for men: they know how to
fuck. I wore a strap on dildo for the first time just
yesterday. I don’t remember her name; too much alcohol
will do that. It happened at a party that a good friend
of mine decided to throw.

I wandered up to the bathroom, Luck was with me; no one
was in line. I entered and let fly about three beers
when I heard the soft moaning coming from the room next
door. When I had finished, I decided to peek in, hoping
to catch a glimpse of some wannabe stud fucking some
boozed up party chick. Guess I got disappointed. The
boozed up chick was there, but she was being fucked by a
woman wearing a black strap on which held an equally
black latex dildo.

I remember asking them If I could join in, and knew
right away that I would not be rejected. Both of them
were white, and I’m fairly certain that they have dreamt
of sleeping with a black woman. The one with the strap
on pulled the dildo from her partner and walked over to
me. I entered the room and took hold of the dildo. It
was cold, unlike the thick warmth of my first lover’s
manhood.

The next thing I remember is the tangy taste of a blonde
bush on my lips, and the constant thunder as I was
fucked by my first strap on. I remember thinking how
wonderful it felt, and how decidedly spicy the blonde
tasted. I tried to give as good as I got, not wanting
them to feel left out of the action. I came hard, and
often. When it became my turn to try the strap on, I
took a moment to look at myself.

I like to think that I’m an attractive woman. 5’8″ tall,
with a body by workouts-are-us. Watching that latex
dildo bounce from my crotch was… obscene. And very
thrilling. The first to feel it was the woman who wore
it first. I had to get used to having something bounce
from down there, and I’m sure it wasn’t the best for
her. But I enjoyed it, and gained an appreciation for
what men have to go through.

Ok… so I don’t know what it feels like to “blow a
load,” but I did have the satisfaction of having my clit
thumped and scratched with every thrust. It wasn’t
enough to bring about an orgasm, but it kept me horny as
hell. When I moved to the blonde, I wanted nothing more
than to fuck her brunette. That’s when she kindly said
that I was “in the wrong hole.

Now I know the difference between a sex soaked love nest
and an asshole, but checked anyway. The dildo was firmly
within her nest. I blame the alcohol for my lack of
immediate understanding. When I finally got the meaning,
I was not too sure of myself.

That didn’t stop me from granting her request. I
remember taking care, and wondering what a man would
feel. The other woman decided to help me along by
sliding her tongue up my own asshole as I pillaged her
partner. I don’t remember too much after that. it all
gets muddles is the haze of too much beer and one
thundering orgasm after another.

My only regret was the beer. I would have loved to be
able to remember the sheer pleasure of fucking a woman
with a strap on. Living in the South has basically
confined my search for one to skulking the internet for
a reliable supplier of such devices. Yet I can honestly
say that I now know that I am truly a lesbian.

It’s not that I find men unattractive; it’s just that I
find women more attractive. I like feeling the softness
of a woman’s body against mine. Their scent is softer,
even after they have been sweating for some time. To me,
it’s just plain more… pleasing.

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