Lesbian sex (for dummies)

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A girl puts two fingers up to her mouth in a V sign and squirms her tongue between them. That is the universal sign for I wanna lick your pussy. I am surprised you didn’t know that too.

No holds will be barred in this post so you might as well stop here if you are underage or you are some holy person or you are squeamish about words like pussy e.t.c., e.t.c.

Congratulations.

Heterosexual sex is commonplace common knowledge. What do I put where? When? How? At what time? I am yet to read about some dude who put it in her ear mistaking it for her vagina. Everybody finds their way out somehow, like a tot suckling on their first day, or eating in the dark. Those analogies are terrible beyond words, but stay with me.

Enter lesbian sex and we have the highest levels of anxiety the world has ever known. It goes in the lines of do I finger her, do I rub her clitoris, do I suck her breasts, do I chain her hands on the bed, do I bite her tongue off? e.t.c., e.t.c. Add the I-have-absolutely-no-idea line to it and we have a pile of confused anxious lesbians milling about the earth. Words like clitoris, vagina and lesbian are said in torturous whispers. They are terrifying words to even contemplate.

So, I suppose I should get this started by saying that there is no such thing as an experienced lesbian. This is the truth. There is no underground lesbian subcommittee with the power to decide on lovemaking top performers or something like that. It is a matter of tossing a coin and every lesbian dreads it because it involves a great deal of work. It can be as complicated as knowing all the numbers of the elements in the periodic table, or it could be as easy as eating ice cream. It can never be homogenized. It is not grouped into past lesbian partners or zero experience tick box, or age or exposure or anything really.

It’s about self-confidence and being eager to have sex.

So before you freak out on your first lesbian sex experience, chances are that your ‘experienced’ partner is half as freaked out. And you can’t blame her. She doesn’t know whether to approach you with great gentleness, or like a crack stimulated addict. You could change into something wildly different at any second. Maybe you turn blind after you climax or maybe you recite holy chants in your ancestor’s language. You know, she can never tell what you can turn into. She is having her first experience with you.

Sex demands have risen generally; everyone is stressed up with stuff in life and we all need escapisms; like sex in this case. Darling, don’t make it more difficult by expecting her to know everything. Communicate with her; this is a love bed not a graveyard for chrissake. Moan, cry; be creative. Narrate stories even; (It’s a thing; watch OITNBS02E04). The part where Nicky Nichols is going down on Brook Soso. Totally cracked me up. Uh-oh, I should have started with a spoiler alert warning.

Be in the moment and stay with her. This is not the right time to worry about your clothes (that are lying on the floor at this time) having different shades of black. While at it, forget about some mythical Egyptian Queen hourglass body shape and concentrate on loving the body you have now. I know this is a tall order for majority of women but I am really trying not to lose my coolness points here. Low self body image is not a great thing when juxtaposed with a horny woman next to you is all I am saying. She needs motivation, and motivation is what she should get.

“Don’t compare your Chapter 1 to someone else’s Chapter 20”. This holds water, I agree. It is obvs that a woman who is having brand new lesbian sex cannot be compared to a lesbian who has been around the block but as I said earlier, this hardly matters. And just in case you think I am contradicting myself, well I am not. I cannot let the darkest powers of contradiction shame me on this post. Sex is a very difficult topic, so keep that in mind as you read on.

It is not written on your face that you are a baby dyke and so long as you have the desire, there are two of you on that bed and the last thing on your mind should be about the particulars. No amount of reading lesbian sex for dummies books or Google will save your ass, it is about following cues from her and asking. Ask. Ask. Ask.

Lesbian porn is another dangerous thing that can put the fear of the Lord on a baby dyke. Take the amount of spotless pussy on there, for instance. And little tattoos all over the waxed bodies. Well, I certainly believe that you are aware that it’s all plastic. No? Oh really? Impressive!

We wish we could do all those things but we don’t, I’m afraid. Amid the fake moans and muff-dives and humongous dildos and long nails, actual sex does happen. And it doesn’t involve all that, friend. So while you were busy taking notes from these lesbo clips, lesbians were busy climaxing to plain old lesbian sex. And I think many lesbians prefer the aforementioned. But this is just speculation from me at this point I should add. There are lesbians with fetishes for other strange sexual behaviours and I don’t have the figures to back that up as of now. Many lesbians (and you can quote me on this) will not be comfortable with muff-diving during your first sexual encounter with them and sex toys and (I could go on). Relax and stop being nervous.

Enough of this chatter. We don’t want that girl you have been eyeing to slip through your fingers, now do we?

meg

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What endures?

(Title plagiarized from Dust by Yvonne Owour)

I highly recommend the book, by the way. Measureless talent.

There is this lesbian blog I follow and the couple just celebrated their tenth anniversary. It got me thinking. Clearly God show up with the formula for permanent lesbian relationships in some whereas in others, he grins and walks away and it seems the prime candidates are in this country (in the latter). You will need a strong heart, lungs and bones for that ten years stretch. Look around.

By look around, I mean mutually exclusive couples. They don’t cheat lust or flirt with other women or any other conventionally accepted manner of cheating. Which is basically everything including hugging other women. Those emojis you send a girl that is not your girlfriend equates to cheating. In fact, the whole having a phone while in a relationship is a total sham. You know those whatsapp groups? euphemism for breaking up relationships en masse. I am not crazy about them but there is no-way no-how anyone will convince me that things with such impressive following don’t come with encrypted content and the decoding phase is when you first and fast sleep with the queen bee. Like hell, there is always a queen bee. High school never ends.

A large number of lesbians have had heterosexual relationships in their lives. Chances are one woman in a lesbian relationship started as a heterosexual woman. Those who have been in lesbian relationships exclusively are few and far between. This right here is problem numero uno. To put a finer point to it, this is the mother of all problems in lesbian relationships.

I was having a very adult conversation with a woman who has been married to a man and together, they have grown kids. They are now separated because of irreconcilable differences one of those being the good old deal breaker; cheating. Both of them did cheat. A younger (and leaner) woman for the man and a younger (and leaner) woman for the woman. The leaner in bracket was a word used by the woman in question so seems this particular couple is hot about lean people. Anyway, this good woman finally solved the final dilemma that is her sexuality and came to terms with the fact that it rests in between another woman’s legs and boy, she is ‘seriously living the life’ as she puts it. Now, she can finally do what she wants.

That last sentence got my brain frying. She assured me that she didn’t take up this woman as a rebound as she has always been a lesbian (but could never act on it). That’s not what I was crazy about actually, it’s the pernicious belief that could be the death of us all; suddenly it’s okay to hang out with the girls until the wee hours of the morning; suddenly you cannot wake up in the morning and make breakfast for your partner; suddenly you can touch another woman’s hair because it is ‘harmless, honey she is just a girl’. First let me burst that bubble for you. In fact, we better call it a more dangerous word like a hand grenade. I won’t sugarcoat this for you. Here, we work twice as hard.

Why the double standards? What makes you feel less threatened and safer here? For pity’s sake, lesbian partnership aren’t merely for entertainment. Forgive me dear reader for stating the obvious; yes we do have loads of fun here (hell, all we do is party) but unless someone debunk these stereotypes, our relationships shall continue being the joke of this earth is all I am saying.

It is politically correct for me to say that if a woman can afford the luxury of worshiping a man like he is Gautama Buddha himself, then by all means all rules applies here. A relationship is a relationship in any standpoint. But here we complement each other; time is long past when women were servile housewives. Also, the muscularity/subservient myth in lesbian relationships should be broken down for the sham that it is.

I place the blame squarely on ourselves because we expect too much if we begin our relationships on a trial and error method. Tried and true formulas have proved that the insidious expectation of expecting God to show up along the way is expecting a tad too much.

If you’ve read Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert you will understand just how much work the ten-year stretch I talked of call for. Prenuptial agreement in our country might be illegal for us but we can apply the same formula for our relationships. We got to make do with what we have to make it work because we need more archetypes in these relationships. Our relationships should endure.

An open letter to Kenyan lesbians above forty

What a nerve I have, writing to you this open letter. But I guess this is a good time as any. So let’s have a small tete a tete now shall we?

I am not in your social circles; I am as impoverished as a church mouse. I am too loud, my ways are wayward. I live in my parent’s house. I drink cheap liquor and stagger like a Neanderthal. I am screwed basically.

I get it. I totally do.

Anyone feels exceptional pressure making a conversation with someone who doesn’t want to, but I cannot emphasize to you how important this small talk means to me. Can I call you dear? Dearie? pumpkin? I am not sure I know how you and your girlfriends refer to each other. For the purpose of this blog therefore, I will call you girlfriend. Everyone understands that girlfriend vibe.

Girlfriend, I really need strong quads to write this post. That’s how intimidating you are. You seem like the type that can eat me in one bite, you scare the pants off me for sure. But still, can you do me a huge favor and read till the end? muchísimas gracias. See, I am a cool kid, I even know some bit of Spanish. By the way, they refer to everybody under thirty as kid nowadays. Girlfriend, this is a generation from a different galaxy. Never mind, I am still finding some foundation for a conversation starter.

I completely understand the need for you to remain a mystery. Sometimes I am not sure you exist in Kenya even. Your camouflaging tactics are exemplary good. If I was at your age, perhaps I would also carefully closet my professional lesbian life. Maybe I would have overseas accounts to protect my money just in case the straight tax collectors came investigating my life. Also, there is the young generation to watch out for, they are on your money like white on rice. They think you got your fuchsia lipstick as a freebie, don’t they? Do they even understand how much that shit costs? How early you rise to hassle for those Dolce & Gabbana sunnies you got going? Do they for chrissake understand the pain you endure walking in heels all friggin day cuz you’re a friggin professional? They don’t, these kids. They fill their days instagramming food. Someone with such a habit would most probably not understand.

However, this might also be a negative stereotype. I am a true believer of listening to other people ideas. “If there is any one secret of success, it lies in the ability to get the other person’s point of view and see things from that person’s angle as well as from your own.” Who even had the faintest idea that I could use quotes? I completely blindside you, don’t I now? Those are Henry Ford’s words, girlfriend. Seeing one can get away with basing their arguments on a wise person’s words, don’t you think that we should reach a consensus on how to lead parallel lives?

There is a startling pattern with our lesbian scene. I somehow think it has become the universally accepted principle of living a lesbian life. You disappear into thin smoke after forty. Right girlfriend? What happened to life starts after forty? to sexual liberation.. What happened to sex hormones going amok (I happen to know) at your age? And while at it, what happened to getting a young woman of able kneecaps to fulfill these desires. Don’t get me wrong, I am not trying to get inside your sheets, I know there are very many others of your age where you come from who can perfectly fit inside your sheets.

What I don’t get is, don’t you get bored night after night performing orgies (again, I happen to know) with the same crowd of fifty year olds? I know you don’t give a fat turd about a youth whose moves in bed can only be compared to the speed of a herd of buffalo but guess what? I just want wanna be your bosom buddy. Seriously. It’s okay that you are superparanoid about me, it is even okay that I am just an average Joe and you are right at the top of your hassle but as one would expect of such a simpleton as me, I just want to hang out with your puppies and watch your cable TV. I know that is too much of me to ask.

Girlfriend, what I am trying to get at is that you have been around the block for some time. We could work a way where you would take me under your wings. Lesbian life is fraught with so many problems. We lay it on a foundation of shifting sand. I need your guidance on how to deal with my ex-girlfriends and their late night calls with their was-just-checking-on-you-vibe Please teach me your time standing ways.

You are not my mother. I’m far from suggesting that. You are a fine woman and not a mother figure in the least. That would be rude, calling you a mother considering I read wamama wako ushago in matatus every other time. What about we settle on how to define our relationship. We could do a big sis-lil sis thingie. Or seeing that I could vaccum your rugs for free, why not teach me how to interact with hot women and keep a straight face while at it.
That would come in handy dear girlfriend. The devil attacks me everywhere. Do you wanna hear about my colleague at work? she is too hot she could soft boil an egg. What would you do if you are held hostage and confined with a woman like that every day for eight hours? Tell me how you have managed to stand firm in gainful employment without facing any sexual harassment charges. How now, with all this madness does a woman of flagging spirit like yours truly not follow Lots wife extreme dishonest behavior and get turned to a ball of salt.

Do you even understand what I am saying here or should I enunciate every word for you.That I-need-your-help-because-I am-lost is what I am trying to say. Asking for help is the last stage, right after denial and insomnia and lusting after people’s wives stages. I am doing this with a pained face, my chicken comes injected with steroids and now my body is full of these steroids which give me a very fragile ego. In other very unrelated but imperative news, have you heard that they are now feeding our women with chicken feed? How can a generation be saved my dear girlfriend?

Do you think we should take a break? Me thinks we should. There will be a sequel and a trilogy. Meanwhile, I will go back to my Spanish ways and say chao for now girlfriend. Just for effect.

Hugs and kisses all around

To those of you disengaged from reality

bleh

There are a couple of words in the gay world you can say if you want to get ahead and look really clever. Use words like pederasty, libertine, exhibitionism, heterosexism et al in one sentence and this turns you from (let’s say) some simpleton with a Diploma in puppetry (do not take offense puppetry people) to some genius with impeccable erudition. Coming on the heels of the Anti-Homosexual bill signing in Uganda are queer bashers having a field day from here to Murang’a. Let’s leave Museveni and his fragile ego thing for now and talk about these facebookers and their 140 characters neighbors.

Christ! I bet this is the closest some of these people have ever got to a climax. I don’t befriend them for one nanosecond but their avalanche of crap somehow finds its way towards me. This is a huge culture of mediocrity and it has a huge following. No amount of muting or blocking will stop them. I am sure they gathered somewhere at night when they were adding friend requests and following each other on these social media platforms, did some weird rituals and decided let’s go and create havoc to the wicked. They are voluble and pestiferous; and they are idle. Stop them dead on their tracks and they will pounce on you like the proverbial crap hits the fan. Really, I have never seen so many difficult words in my entire internet life.

One of those idle people is Irungu Kangata, Kiharu MP. I won’t give him much airtime here but he is out there in Facebook practically surviving on huge doses of homophobia; which is putting it mildly cuz if this guy had a wish he would decapitate our heads. Update after update on his page on how homosexuals will cripple the economy of this nation and I am doing a running commentary in my head that it’s either these updates are for the amusement of small children or he is just deeply, deeply boring. I am not being figurative by the way; it is there on his wall. The economy of Kenya is coming down y’all.

So you got blood pressure? Bad hair day? Anglo-leasing? Marital issues? Jehovah witness at your door? Caught watching porn in the office, anyone?

HOMOSEXUALS!

Satan has nothing to do with it.

I am a seasoned lesbian. If you are going to spend your days thinking that your bashing is going to send heterosexual shock waves to my brain, you better come prepared. I’m driven by very primal lesbian urges and all the English vocab is not going to save me. The seasoned lesbian thingie comes fully equipped with immune for two. And I have had it since my pre-pubescent days.

Ah-ha. Kenya is very democratic. And you should voice your opinions. Now, assuming we were to all march the streets of Nairobi and torch vehicles every time a girl in her early twenties is made Deputy Ambassador of some country? It would be very unprofessional for a citizens known to stomach bigger scandals. We don’t carry placards and publicly rub ourselves on innocent pedestrians at the first opportunity. That’s what counts.

This post is about to turn political and it might rub on some people suggestively. I will leave politics to the intellectually inclined folks.

Stop being so melodramatic about it is all. It’s hackneyed and cartoonish.

What’s the worst that could happen?

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A Sunday.

First, I would like to apologize to my atheist readers because this post is church related. Also, it’s about God so to the rest of the religions, I pray for tolerance.

So- Newsflash!- This lesbian goes to church.

And I will tell you this for nothing, the church happens to be a good place. That is if you are into sitting at one place transfixed at a certain object for five hours straight. That is totally my thing, I happen to be the most patient person in the history of the world.

 

The above certain object happens to be the cross. Nothing to instill the fear of the Lord in your soul like the good wooden cross.

 

So this particular last Sunday came after the Valentine’s day (you know the day the town is in bloody circus?) that’s me admitting that I’m happy for everyone of you that got red flowers and undies, not. I happen to be sitting next to dad, as I always do. I’m a protestant and that means we carry our own hymns and Bibles because the millions and millions Church offerings get channeled towards our reverend, deacons and deaconesses Per Diem. The church therefore, cannot (and of course I don’t possibly see how) afford to buy the congregation the said books and so I will have to sit next to dad every Sunday so we can share. Why can’t I just buy my Bible you ask? Well, that is a very important question.

 

Most churches (this particular one is quite clear on that) are gay intolerant. Homosexuality arouses very strong passions in people, the devil is also quite clear too that he has a corner specifically set for us at his place. It’s unimaginable EVIL. But that’s beside the point. Despite everything that’s wrong with my life, I am here. The Reverend is giving us a little spiel about love, he is intoxicated by the Valentines love bug me thinks. He is referring to every love verse; this is especially a traumatic ordeal for me because sitting next to father means I get to have the huge task that is to locate for the said verses. Painstakingly, he marks every sermon with his special mark pen. Different one every Sunday, his Bible is now multicolored from years of use, and I automatically love it. You know, rainbows. I love rainbows my gentle readers.

 

What is love? Reverend says it is kind, it does not judge blah blah blah. Right, love does not judge. Now, my eyes are transfixed on the Reverend. I would love to hear him explain this one. And during one of those life’s rare coincidences, our eyes locks for a whole two seconds. My poor attempt at nonchalance ensures that I nod vigorously and together with the faithfuls, chants a big AMEN! I’d like to think it is God’s commanding presence but at that instant where our eyes lock, I think about Messiah’s second coming, I think about the lady I was checking out on our way to church, I think about my web history, I think about the gay people in Nigeria and Uganda, I think about the laptop I left unattended in my bedroom and all its lesbian porn and at the spur of the moment, I do what a good lesbian Christian would do, nothing.  You see, the church has a way of specifically loading on homosexuals’ shoulders, the sins of the rest of humanity. And they are many. But if you want to target my sexual orientation without even mentioning your nightly orgy of masturbation dear Reverend Christian, I’ll need a damnly good reason why.  

 

Love does not judge. The Reverend is unstoppable.

 

The church was built to instill good values in our hearts. Without a doubt, this is true. I don’t even question the credibility of that for one second. I don’t even justify my extreme gayism behaviors, I am a sinner dear gentle reader.  The fact that I will burn in hell is the final piece of the puzzle. But will you at least stop drumming this in my head every one second? I think the intolerance surrounding the hate for homosexuals makes a mockery of the whole Church structure. The blabber in loving your enemy is sickening mendacity and plain bigotry.

 

Why not quit church altogether you ask? I go to church to be alone with my thoughts, and for many other reasons I don’t have to necessarily explain to anybody. The Great God of the universe has not yet struck me with a sword, I WAIT. Also, I think who or who won’t burn in hell is too close to call for any fellow humanoid.

 

What would the Holy Virgin Mary do?

 

She would give unto the Lord what belongs unto the Lord. And so it is offerings time and I raise my note unto the high heavens. Praying to God that could he please remember me in his kingdom? That despite my extreme earlier mentioned behaviors; I paid the good Reverend to spread the gospel. It’s not for me to question what he does at night under his duvet.

 

Unrelatedly, on my way out I run into the lady I was checking out earlier on our way to church. This is definitely a sign. Do you know how to interpret dreams and signs my gentle reader? Neither do I.

 

Go ye in peace.

 

 

The elusive Gaydar

 

Walks into a coffee house, spots beautiful unchaperoned woman, stares at woman, fiddles fingers, scratches head, sips coffee, pours scolding hot coffee on self’s tits, makes a hot mess, looks up to stare at woman, woman is leaving now, holy crap she is coming over to your table….

That is Hollywood for you. Now back to Kenya. You are screwed and nobody gives two hoots.

It’s like the writer’s muse. Writers will go batshit crazy looking for it at the insides of their cigars, they will run naked in the middle of the night and come back with all of two sentences if they are lucky, or in most cases they will end up writing one book in two decades. Physical and emotional miseries.

I was having a conversation with a programmer who told me that he might be in the process of building a particular application but there is this line of code that just won’t work. Then it will appear to him like a dream in the dead of the night and it doesn’t matter whether he was making sweet love to his dear wife, he will hit the sheets like a demented creature and make a run for his laptop.  Else, he won’t remember it for months on end. What a life to live. Also, poor wife!

Gaydar is far much worse. I mean, we are talking about a heart and a homophobic population. I can’t remember which site this was but someone left a comment and said that if their kid was gay, he would skin off their manhood and spray pepper spray on them. I don’t know about you but getting sent to hell with hot flaming balls isn’t my idea of dying. Especially now that I am a woman and I don’t have balls so I am thinking that maybe this particular reader would have chopped off my breasts. It’s dreadfully scary what hitting on a straight woman/man can turn into. You don’t know whether what you have is an abnormal attraction masquerading as gaydar. Many of us were denied this God-how-much-we-all-need-it skill.

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memecentre.com

 

 

It is a fundamental law of nature that our lesbian hormones are always on a 24 hour clock shift. We will stop at nothing. Seriously, you just can’t stop us. How else do you explain flirting with a married heterosexual woman who even the devil knows you will never have. How do even explain to her how you get erotic dreams of you giving her earth shattering cunnilingus. How do you know she won’t tell on you to the authorities. When in the midst of all these emotions do you know what’s gaydar even if it were to hit you smack dead on your face. BUT we will hit on these married heterosexual women anyway, because that’s what winning means.     

 

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My gaydar is generally not so bad. I can call it neutral, occasionally edging toward bad. I will stare at a woman and two seconds into it I know she is lesbian. I will however practice the same with another woman and tumble head-first into the whale-belly of scoring an E. You can never tell with the dress code here. The old-age plaid shirt giveaway for instance does not apply on our streets. Lesbians have mastered the art of camouflaging in the crowds. Yours truly included.  Stereotypes or no stereotypes, gaydar is your best friend. I will be speaking for many lesbian women when I say that sometime you just want to hug a random beautiful woman on the streets, in a matatu..she look so divine, she looks like a lesbian, oh God you just wanna kiss her.

Gaydar entails confidence. It entails learning how to hold a stare; it also entails having a third eye. It is all about having killer conversation starters, and keeping the conversation going. If you are homosexually stunted, you will need to be laid hands on. There is no way you will survive in this hot and dry season in Kenya if you are the type to wait for a gay angel to rise from hell and cure your dry spell. Forget about snuggling in cold winter, there is something in this hot February sun that turns on all your horny hormones. I happen to know because I am speaking for myself. Pick cues from everything and everybody in her life. Compliment her and study her body language. There must be something there. Also, lesbians are generally friendly people. Take this to your advantage and study her keenly. You know, I am just giving you my two cents worth, this ain’t the gospel yo. Somebody needs to explain to me in writing how you spot a lesbian say 500 metres away and all your gaydar bells goes off. I mean, there are effeminate men for instance who can get you all so confused. But they happen to be as straight as a round-about. Same case applies to our tomboys and butch sisters. I think it is constitutionally wrong to judge people’s sexuality by their dress code.

So where to from here?

I suggest you work with intuition. It is pretty much the straight twin sister to gaydar. If it feels right, then it is right.

 

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