we kissed for hours

April 4, 2020

The first time I had sex with a woman, just her and I, I marvelled at the pace. Sex with men always felt pressing, driven by an intensity that climbed quickly. Sometimes I liked that energy, it made me feel wanted, desired. The rush was fun, like tearing open a present. Other times I felt like we skipped over the good parts, like I could have pressed against him while he kissed my neck for hours. Sometimes I felt like I was trying to catch up, I was too young and inexperienced to say “Slow down.”

The first time I had sex with a woman, and it was just her and I, we kissed for hours. Literally hours. Slow, tender, swollen-lips, hands in our hair, teasing tongues, moans and soft sounds, our hips pressing together, in no hurry but never staying still. By the time I pressed my hand between her legs her panties were soaked right through. That little wet spot made fireworks in my head, my clit throbbed. This was divine. I didn’t pull her cotton underwear aside until she was already close to orgasm, just from my fingertips tracing over the fabric, and her eager grinding against my palm.

After she came we slowed down but never stopped touching each other until she’d had her second, third and fourth. There’s a difference between “I came” and “I’m satiated”. Fucking someone who understood that made sex an entirely new thing. We fucked until we were finished, exhausted and spent. I finally felt satisfied.

The next time a man touched me all I could feel was the energy propelled by his hard-on. The rush that rush-of-blood to his cock put him in. I felt like I wasn’t there.

Queer Enough Zine, March 2018

chaste kiss

February 10, 2020

But come, dearest creature — I will — give you one chaste kiss.

Virginia Woolf
November 1926 letter to Vita Sackville-West

Mrs. Danvers and I

January 20, 2020

put out at dawn aboard Rebecca’s boat
and, sails bent on, un-moored and set a course
south by southwest about the Roseland Coast.
We made good time to Coverack, where we docked
and purchased fuel, rations, tools, and twine,
then, casting off again, tilled hard alee,
and, battening down, made ready for the storm.
The lighthouse, thankfully, was burning bright.
Rough seas and foul. Cabin sole awash.
By miracle we rounded Lizard Point
which, having sighted steam north by northeast,
we had determined, rashly, to accomplish
that very night — though ancient mariners
had warned, first laughing, then in grave concern,
it might not be attempted on their lives.
We shortened sail. Hove to. I slept
as soundly as one could, and was awakened
past daybreak, to clear skies, the scent of ham
and eggs, calm seas, and Mrs. Danvers’ kiss.
Once underway, we put about and stood,
stood, steady as she goes, for Llangollen
or rather up the Channel and the Severn
toward Gloucester and the Cotswalds where we came
to port and land. Abandoning the boat,
from there to Birmingham we went by train.
We must have looked a sight, we two, alone,
our windswept hair, our salt-stained, still damp clothes,
our faces wild with staggering from the sea!
From Birmingham we caught the east-bound train
toward Holyhead, alit at Ruabon, and thence we strolled,
like ladies, newly combed and freshly pinned,
along the winding lanes toward Llangollen.
The village, then as now, does not impress.
We took a room in town and dined alone.
Next day we searched for lodgings. There was one
quaint cottage we particularly loved,
almost a ruin, lonely, overgrown
with roses, vines, and mosses…In the end,
we had not funds enough to rent the place.
We chose a home in Llantysilio
three miles off and, winter fast approaching,
began the work to keep each other warm.

Samantha Pious

As long as I can remember I have been attracted to women but too scared to do anything about it. I would get close to doing stuff but never quite close enough. I would convince my friends who had developed breasts before me to show me their breasts and get so turned on and wet but didn’t have the courage to touch or suck them even though I wanted to.

The closest I got was when I was 10 and went to spend a day at a new friend’s house. We did all kinds of pretend scenarios where I would pretend to be a male cab driver and she was my female passenger and didn’t have any money to pay me and so she would show me her breasts as payment.  She seemed to want me to touch them but I wasn’t sure if I was misreading the situation. We eventually switched the game and played doctor with her as the patient and me as the doctor. She would say my nipple is leaking and I would pretend wipe it away by brushing against her nipples through her dress but again I didn’t have the courage to really touch her. To this day I regret letting that opportunity slip through my fingers literally and figuratively.


I knew I was queer when
and when I saw
and I had this crystalline moment of

There is no one moment,
because yes, I saw her hips grinding
blue and pink lights into dust
that September night
and I walked into class
to see a girl with a circus tent
lovingly inked between the valley of her shoulder blades
and I looked at my childhood best friend
like she was magic,
but there were endless
conjugated into this-will-end-soon
phrases of suspension,
moon phases of this-can’t-be-right.

But like tides I hungered toward
too many,
that man with melting eyes,
a girl who was more garden than anything,
and I knew I was queer when
I kissed them and him
and they both kissed me,
two midsummers in the midst of February and
I fell into a purple static haze
of one ecstatic swell after another
when she told me she loved me that first time –
just thinking of any of this I can’t

Laura Mayron

I wasn’t sure…I didn’t know what I was until about 1952 or ‘53. I knew that I loved very much my roommate at college, where I had had my first lesbian experience. But it wasn’t until I was a camp counsellor in West Virginia that I had the experience that gave me some notion of what my life was about to be all about. I was sitting on a hill…and I was reading a letter from my roommate, the lover of my life, the very first lesbian relationship that I’d ever had. Her parents had taken her off to Scandinavia because they had found out the nature of our relationship. She had written me a goodbye letter, and I was sitting there on Vesper Hill, looking out over the beautiful Greenbrier River, crying like a baby, because I didn’t think there was anybody else in the world like me. I had never heard the word ‘lesbian.’ I had never dreamed that there was anybody else who had any kind of orientation like I did or who loved the way that I did… Suddenly a shadow fell across the paper, and I looked up, hiding the letter, into the face of the camp bugler, a rather butch-looking woman that I had had some questions about. She was standing up there and she was toking on her cigarette… and then she sort of squatted down beside me. And here we were, the two of us, sitting there looking out over the beautiful Greenbrier River. And then she puts her hand on my shoulder, she takes another toke off of the cigarette, and she blows it off and she says, ‘We are growing in numbers every day.’”

Sally Miller Gearhart
Last Call at Maud’s (Film)

I will never forget my first foray into phallic fucking. I was slow to the strapon game and in truth it is still not my preferred option. In fact my first love and I used no toys, taste and touch were enough. But leaving that relationship, realising that I was in fact gay and the previous 6 years hadn’t been a passing fancy, led me on a period of sexual exploration.

And that’s when I met Caro, an athletic, party dyke with a capacious sexual appetite. If Hannah had taught me how to love, Mel taught me to fuck…The strapon made its appearance at our third night together. When we first kissed that night she moved in close and I was shocked at the realisation of something large and hard in her jeans. It was a sensation I hadn’t felt in years and I was immediately taken back to that first time as a young teenager when I felt my boyfriend’s erection. That amazing feeling of dread and desire, fear and thrill. I remember I gasped with surprise and Mel laughed at my innocence…

When ‘the moment’ came Mel had ‘prepared’ me wonderfully. To me this has been one of the differences between men with penis’ and women with straps – we know what its like and we make sure the receiver is ready. And the act of penetration was also more deliberate, not a shock thrust. Mel had positioned me on my back, legs spread fully wide and slowly fed (rather than thrust) her ‘cock’ inside me.

Trying to describe my first impressions. Shock through my whole body, rapture at that shock, my breath leaving my body as the shaft moved slowly, deeply into me. You have to remember that this was the first time in 7 years I had had more than 3 fingers inside me. So the girth of her phallus astonished me. But rather than thrust in and out of me Mel held her position as I absorbed her in me, revelling in the closeness of having her face to face and two arms holding me desperately. I showered her with bites and kisses wrapped my arms and legs around her and pulled her into me. For those who may never strap, this is the true thrill of strap ons. You both have full freedom of arms and hands. Of course, no woman can lay there, still, with a hard cock (plastic or real) for very long. And so I started to rock with my hips. Mel joined my movements and soon took control. Her grunts joined my moans and soon I was asking for harder, deeper, faster…Her reply was to pull out, turn me over and slide her slick sausage in from the rear. She then rapidly rodded me, pulling my hips back and forth with each thrust. I came quickly, hard, not one of those waves of clitoral shocks. No this was a sudden what the fuck BAM that exploded deep in my cunt and sent my mind spinning. I collapsed on the bed with Mel on top of me, her stiff stick still filling my trembling vagina. And in my ear she whispered “Good girl…”

Brigid B
Too Deep For Me

the base of my heart

September 30, 2018


My body began to wait for Piki to push her fingers inside, how they would reach all the way to the base of my heart and pull out my heart on Piki’s palm…It felt like it was raining red inside me and I was amazed yet again when the sheets hadn’t turned red, but instead were wet like a tissue filled with tears, even though Piki had pushed her fingers all the way up into my heart. My skin was filled with hematomas that were visible even in the dark, my heart glowing through my skin, as if it were beating towards Piki’s burrowing fingers even after she had pulled them out. As if it were spreading through my whole body trying to find its way back to those merciless fingertips.

Sofi Oksanen
Baby Jane

She handed me the hitachi

December 24, 2017

sunday lesbian

The last time we fucked I just wanted to please her. I was focused on her mouth and her moans, my hands between her legs pulling a string of sounds from her lips, a serenade. I was focused and determined. When she shook with orgasm I collapsed on the bed next to her, smiling and satisfied.

I should have known from that look on her face that she had other plans. Anyone who knows Ms. O has seen that wicked grin, persuasive and so sure she’s about to have exactly what she wants.

“I want to be your pillow,” she said, biting her lip a little and looking up at me. She was lying on her back, her curves calling me closer. I blushed as she handed me the hitachi.

I might have confessed to her that when I’m all by myself I sit on top of it and grind against it. I could feel myself complying before I’d even thought it through. She has that affect you know. I followed her gentle instructions and climbed on top of her.

As I straddled her hips, my cheeks pink and warm to the touch, she turned on the hitachi and encouraged me. Her voice was like honey, warm and sweet as she told me just what to do.

She looked up at me as I humped against her tummy, the vibrations making waves through me as I rocked my hips against her. “Such a good girl,” she cooed, her eyes all over my naked body as I squirmed, perched on top of her.

My wet little cunt dripped against her soft belly, my head was dizzy. I was close. “Show me just how you do it, pretty girl,” she said as I gasped and begged and bounced against her.

I did just as I was told.

My Dirty Little Heart

having a relationship

December 17, 2017

that look

In 1986 Grandma was worried I wasn’t settling down. So I told her I was having a relationship – with a woman. “I am settling down, in my own way.” And the sunlight settled on the dust on the mantlepiece and the cat settled in Grandma’s lap and Grandma said there were two nurses boarding in her mother’s house in Yorkshire in 1916. And Grandma said she was in love with one of them.

70 years later, she still remembered waiting at the bottom of the boarding-house stairs to blush and smile hello at the funny, dark-eyed nurse she loved.

Love between women? Unforgettable.

Eleni Prineas
Finding the Lesbians: Personal Accounts from Around the World