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

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.

 

 

Break up to Make up

I asked myself, Had I ever, even once, been happy while with her? Had I ever once enjoyed her company while lying on the couch or working on my laptop, while she was just there?..the comfortable silences? Of course I had. And if I had done it once, I will overlook the sad days, the fights, the broken pieces, I will mend them with her. I figured, if I could build on working for our relationship, and not just walking away or giving up when the heat is too much, if I could build on those so many good days we have had together, the positives alone, maybe I could do that even for the most of my life…and that is what I have been doing, and will continue to do, because this woman is worth fighting for.

I will be back.

Moving on

 

I should preface this post with intellectual stuff like I lost my writing mojo, writer’s block yada yada. I am not a writer so I won’t say those things. Also, I am not intellectually inclined. I just like women (Go Fig).

This is what; I have been nursing a heartbreak. I should have put that in Broadway 72 to emphasize my point. See, I say things matter-of-factly and I have never known how to perform histrionics.  Say for instance I found a Bugatti Veyron parked in our compound with my name on it, (which sounds blasphemous to Volkswagen peeps) I will just get in the damn car and drive my troubles away. No stripping naked, taking selfies or twerking on it.

I am sure the upper middle class have a name for this, because it is a disorder. Everything is a fucking disorder.

We have mastered the art of doing everything else apart from dealing with heartbreaks. Everyone has to come up with their own coping mechanism. From comfort foods to memorizing every chapter in the Bible.

Hell; we will even go to church and plant the seed of non rejection, get the anointing oil in a bottle and because we are not well versed with these pulpit theatrics, we will drain the oil down our throats and end up looking like Masonic agents in front of the heaven bound congregation.  Very desperate times.

You can never tell with people. There are those who were created to make every day of your living life miserable. You know what, Just suck it.

I have read so many books in the last two months. It is the perfect distraction, my heart is not a strong a muscle. The fact that I feed it with chocolate and pizza most of the time doesn’t help it. A good book alters my life in a way I cannot explain. I will uproot my life and live inside a character’s head as long as the book last. I will put a face to her name and imagine that she was my girlfriend. Full disclosure: I have weird fetishes.  

Frequent readers of this blog really know how to look out for me. I have mentioned before that I am not a bright person. A certain reader took this to mean that I am totally dumb. So she offered to tutor me during my spare time. I am not sure what she had in mind. I am in a frigging university for god’s sake.  I could be studying typing lessons but at least I made it to the list of university goers. Am I cool, or what? It is never that serious guys.

So to stay with the topic in hand boys and girls, a break up is hardly something I feel the need to shout from the rooftops but just like the highly unstable nature of farts, it will always happen to the unexpected of souls and who else to write it better than yours truly?

Heartbreaks are like homing pigeons. They always return. I have coined this phrase to look clever to the reader mentioned above. Predictably, failing miserably. Maybe I should just let her tutor me.

 

Have a peaceful weekend. With the kind of horror Kenya has experienced for the past one week, calmness is all I can pray for you right now. I love every single one of you. 

Will the real relationship please stand up?

To say that I always have it easy as a lesbian is downright crazy.

Curious researchers have probed, poked and dissected lesbians relationships and concluded that yes, this is quite a walk in the park. In fact, it is such a slow leisurely walk that you can all bring your fancy barbeques and let’s all have a party in here.

Humor me, please.

When I try to reminisce my love stories, I get a whole different picture it’s very hard to relate. Not that I have had many relationships, but the little I have experienced has come in all shapes and flavors I almost never recognize myself when they are over.

As a small girl, weddings fascinated me. I was a flower girl in many of these. While donning a little white dress, nobody could talk me into not believing in living happily ever after. I believed in my prince charming sweeping me off my feet and living with me in his castle forever after.

Though the gender of the prince has changed, I wonder whether the story has remained the same.

I agree that when it comes to PDA, we have it easy. But that is as far as it goes. There are queers and quarks, those with secrets and checkered pasts, those in love and those flaky ‘lesbian’ straight women with multitudes of personalities. You might turn into a pretzel pleasing her, but she will go back to her heterosexual nest anyway.

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There are issues plus a zillion others in lesbian relationships.

After we are done recycling the small circle that is our community, we are left in the mercies of our not so eager to see us happy families. Not many of them would understand why their beautiful daughter would torment her soul getting heartbreak after heartbreak from another woman.

I mean, look at the sea of all the tall, dark and handsome men. It feels sort of like the voodoo, very difficult to explain unless you are in it.

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Though there are some robust lesbian relationships around, picking them in a crowd is very difficult, it is like explaining to a four year old the meaning of twerking. They find them eventually now that the videos are all over on Youtube! Look at what we have done to our children.

The average lesbian relationship around here lasts anything from one day to maybe seven years max. By the time the partnership is over, you have trekked to Masai Mara and hunted all kinds of rare meat in the jungle for her and most probably, you have been disowned by your family. You have fought the daily signature fights with courage and resilience. You have survived the wilderness of PMS for two and finally, this has culminated into a therapist inducing break-up.

The formula for strong relationships still remains elusive; every one writes their own stories. A woman will tell you of a girlfriend who got miraculously pregnant, others will tell tales of how she ran away with her first lover and others will pay homage by inviting you to their weddings. With an opposite sex of course.

I ask myself, but what suddenly happens to that first cosmic kiss. What became of the lightning bolts of lust and love she melted our heart with, what of the nights and days of deprivation to remain true to her?

These are the street we wander, and there is nowhere to go but forward.

We are willing to be discriminated upon, because in order to call ourselves lesbians we had to be swept off our feet by women, we went against all odds and lived lives that contradicted all the previous myths, about what is expected of us and what is normal or right.

Because those are our love stories.

Have a rocking weekend! #TGIF