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

Snapbacks and tattoos……and lesbians

Hey tits owners 😀

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The hiatus is over. I missed you guys and I missed this three months blog baby of mine. Sorry for replying your many emails this late (all fifty of them). Three actually, sigh.

Where I was you ask? Well, I would have loved to say I went to Siberia and discovered salt mining is the ultimate hobby to richness or I was tanning my thighs in a beach somewhere in Jamaica, sipping cold margaritas, poking my kindle and sending nudes on my Samsung Galaxy 4.

Thing is, I don’t own a kindle or the aforementioned phone. And my thighs are black as coal, au naturel. But I really fantasize about the said gadgets and I keep wondering which person in the family pedigree wronged the sweet Messiah so much because money and I have never seen eye to eye. Not because we hate each other but because I have never known where to get it. You will notice that I have used the word because in this paragraph over four times, the idea is to piss off the grammarnazis, I have one hundred problems and writing proper English is not one of them.

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Back to my sabbatical. Apart from my imaginary holiday, I was meditating. Yeah, I can totally walk on water now.

I am at a point in life where I feel I need a turning point. Like the Otonglo kid, my hand yearns for the President’s handshake. I am bored to death by everything in my life. People get stuck and bored sometimes in their life, they keep it to themselves and I bitch about it.

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Maybe I should sell my ovaries, or start selling drugs, or make my womb useful and try surrogacy, or sleep with my boss, or buy a gun and start killing every moving object standing in my way to richness. Which of these sounds less criminal?

I think selling my ovaries is the best choice considering the punishment of painful periods and the one hundred pimples I get on my face during this cycle, one for every Maumau warrior who died fighting for Kenya independence. There is a direct link between my menstrual cycle and the grave. They are the worst four days of my life. Imagine having to visit the Niagara falls every four days of the month in your life. I am sure the real Niagara falls are beautiful, but I am not so much an outdoor person so no I hate the frequent visits. The cramps make me cry and gnash my teeth in agony and they are the only days in my life I keep wishing I was a man. How sad.

Being a man that is.

I would never want to be a man in my life even if the human race depended on it, never.

Does that make me a sexist? Or what is the word? I can’t remember but I am sure the people who work under the men empowerment department can always leave a comment and educate me, and call me names while at it.

Some people will call this depression with a capital D and they will say I have a mental illness and I am a total nutter. They will suggest that people better avoid me and talk to me slowly because anytime I might start throwing flying objects at them. But as I have said earlier, everyone get depression sometimes in their life, it is part of being alive.

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People get depressed about not having enough money and that is what I am depressed about. Top-of-the-range, no-expense-spared depression. I might come out as very entertaining talking about it but my life right now seems like the big party where my ass was not invited.

A whole depression package of a life with no menu or map.

Money is not everything or so I hear. Whisper that to me again when I am sipping Chardonnay inside a chocolate bath tub and then maybe we can have that conversation.

Relax people, I will snap out of it. Especially if all of you happen to give me your ATM cards, accompanied by their passwords of course.

What was the topic of this post again? Stares into space….

That reminds me that I owe you guys a post about lesbian sex, patience is a virtue.

Isn’t it?

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