Queer
So you think you might be a gay girl?
How do you know you’re gay/lesbian/queer/bisexual/non-heterosexual/choose own label? Well, how do straight people know they’re straight? How do you know you’re left or right handed? You just know. It’s something you feel right through to your very core, no matter how much you try and quieten those urges.
Even though the debate rages on regarding the ‘gay gene’, as a life-long lesbian, I know that I didn’t choose to be attracted to women. I didn’t wake up one day and decide that I would choose to live a life which would see me discriminated against, ridiculed, and jeopardise my personal safety just for the hell of it. For years throughout my early teens I didn’t even know what a lesbian was (or even that two women could be together in such an intimate way – ridiculous by today’s standards but I had a childhood, a true childhood). I had boyfriends, even had sex with some (too many) of them, but it never felt right. I used to lie in bed at night and wonder what it would be like to be my best friends boyfriend. I didn’t want to be a boy, I just didn’t know that could be with a woman I liked in that way, only boys could be with women that way. Straight society trained me well.
Lesbians are women who are emotionally and sexually attracted to other women. Some women have always known this attraction existed within them (even if they weren’t entirely sure what it was), others don’t realise until long after they’re married and had their 2.4 children. Neither is more or less a lesbian than the other. Whatever your situation, the important thing is to be honest with yourself, even if you can’t be honest with those closest to you yet.
It’s important to note that you don’t have to have had sex with a woman to realise you’re a lesbian. Most heterosexuals are aware that they are attracted to members of the opposite sex long before they have sex with one so don’t feel rushed or pressured to jump into bed with the first queer woman you meet just to ‘make sure’. It is important to do what feels right and natural to you.
Whatever you’ve heard about lesbianism, it is vital to remember that it is ‘normal’ to you. It may not be ‘normal’ to the straight people around you, just as their heterosexuality doesn’t seem normal to you but that doesn’t make you a freak or disgusting or any of the other derogatory adjectives you’ve heard used to describe lesbians.
Remember: heterosexuality is not normal, it’s just common.
It is widely accepted that around 10% of the population are queer, but various studies have shown that the majority of people feel some degree of attraction to members of both sexes. Sexuality isn’t as black and white as society would have you believe. It’s interesting to note that around 10% of the population are left-handed, something a person has no control over, just like sexuality. Can you imagine a world which discriminates against people simply because of the hand they use to write with? Seems absurd doesn’t it? But that’s what people are doing when the discriminate against non-straight people. This sort of discrimination will not end until society accepts that, just as a heterosexual does not chose to be attracted to a member of the opposite sex, so a homosexual does not chose to be attracted to a member of the same sex. I’m not going to argue that some people do choose to be gay due to various ‘negative’ experiences with men, as long as you accept that some people, in a bid to deny their true feelings, choose to be straight. Choosing a sexuality that doesn’t fit you may please society, but you will never be happy within yourself if you continue to be someone you’re not.
(first posted on The Gay Girls Guide)
0The Gay Girls Guide To A Seven Day Relationship
When most people enter a relationship. they usually hope for a couple of things; that they’ll be happy, the sex’ll be great, and it will last (both the sex and the relationship). But when you look at the usual running patterns for most lesbian relationships it becomes quite obvious that ties which held couples together for many-a-year could easily be squashed into seven days, therefore leaving you more time for added ‘loves of your life’ rather than devoting months and years on end to something which will probably just end anyway. Why only have one woman fall for you when you can have hundreds? Here’s how:
Day 1 (Saturday)
Saturday seems to be a pretty popular day for relationships to begin, so we’ll start our journey here. You will, off course, have to leave the house. Heading towards somewhere you know lesbians hang out is also going to increase your chances – honestly, it will. If they serve alcohol where you choose to go, drink lots and encourage any woman you find even the slightest bit attractive to do the same. This way both of you will gradually develop into goddesses by the end of the evening and you will never have met anyone with whom you share so much in common. Hell, it’s almost like talking to yourself. She will be amazing, take her home if you can.
Day 2 (Sunday)
If you have taken her home no doubt you have spent all night exploring every inch of each other’s personalities and bodies, searching for flaws and hang-ups you might disapprove of. With a hangover the only thing you’ll be glad to notice is that she hasn’t threw up all over the bed and you remembered to make it to the bathroom before peeing. She is your perfect partner. Everything seems so right.
Day 3 (Monday)
If Sunday went to plan today is the day you should ask her to move in with you or, at the very least, give her a key to your house/flat and car if you have one. After all, she is so perfect and you got on so well on Saturday night and Sunday why shouldn’t you want to spend every minute of your time together. This is a good move and if you’ve chosen well she will already be trailing you to her house to pack her bag and collect Tiddles. When you return you will spend all night talking about what a great decision this is and how the two of you won’t let it be like all those other relationships and make this one work. You will probably have sex all night vowing that every night will be like this.
Day 4 (Tuesday)
Just coming up to the midway point in your new relationship and things might start to slow down a bit, but don’t worry. You can convince yourself that it’s just the upheaval and change of the pas few days which has left you both exhausted. Tomorrow everything will be fine again. You might have sex tonight, but don’t count on it.
Day 5 (Wednesday)
By around midday you’ll start to realise that you have not had sex what feels like some time. Both of you will probably feel that this is the other persons fault and you will want to have a huge screaming row followed by make up sex.
Day 6 (Thursday)
You will start to remember al the things she screamed at you yesterday and all the things you wanted to say but thought that they would be too cruel. You wished you had’ve spoken your mind and you can feel the resentment building inside of you ready to explode. Why did she have to change? Bitch to friends about ‘her indoors’.
Day 7 (Friday)
Today will be the final day of your relationship. You just can’t stand being around her, you have nothing in common and you don’t even find her all that attractive anyway. She’s such a bitch now, nothing like she used to be when you first met her. She used to be soft and caring, attentive and sweet. Now she just ignores you or picks on every little thing that you do. She never listens to you and you may as well be talking to yourself. You doubt you’ll ever speak to her again.
(Additional Day 8 Saturday)
Today you might want to head out to somewhere lesbians are likely to hang out in a bid to get over your broken heart. It is likely that your very recent ex will be there too but don’t panic. You will become best friends just before you leave with your new woman and in about five days you’ll be bitching to her about the way your latest love has changed from the perfect little creature you picked up on Saturday into a lesbian Lecter.
And that’s how to fit a whole lesbian relationship into one single week. Simple.
Just feeling her lips softly brush against your skin was enough to make you wet. You would lie at night, lights off, eyes closed, and rest your hand gently between your spread legs. Touching, lightly at first, your hips would start to move with your fingers as your mind drifted deeper into fantasy. There you would see and slowly undress her. God, how she was perfect. You were so wet. Your fingers pressed harder as you could feel the excitement build. The scene inside your head had changed swiftly, fleeting from one fantasy to an another, searching for what you wanted, what you needed.
Next, you were in a room, alone with your boss. You’d always had a thing for her, the older woman, the authority, the sensual curves of her slender body, her flawless complexion, her flowing black hair. You were on your knees in front of her your hands slowly tracing her soft thighs. Soon her skirt was around her waist and your fingers had moved to beneath her panties. With swiftness, her panties were down and she had stepped out of them to spread her legs. She pulled your head closer to her pussy, urging you to taste it, you didn’t need any encouragement. You kissed her once, then again, then again, and again more passionately until you were sliding your tongue into her pussy. You could hear your boss, her breathing getting heavier, the moans of pleasure as you found ‘that spot’.
And in your room, you had three fingers sliding in and out of yourself, stopping only to rub your rock-hard clit as you let yourself go and feel every stroke of your tongue. You loved how women tasted, you loved to listen as they lost control totally and utterly, and you loved to watch as they fucked your tongue, knowing how much they enjoyed it.
Your pussy was so wet. It hadn’t felt like that in such a long time. But soon it changed again, leaping from one thought to another as your desire changed and grew. And there was a faceless stranger in front of you on her hands and knees, her cunt wide open. She looks at you as you reach out to touch her ass with both your hands. It was so firm and soft, you realise you’re naked but for a strap-on and she was pleading with you to fuck her. You reach out your fingers and touch her ass again, teasing, bending down to follow your fingers with your tongue. Your tongue touches her open asshole and her lips begin to move as her breathing quickens.
“No, stop, please” she pleads, “just fuck my cunt”
“But I know you like this”, you reply, still using your tongue to drive her crazy. You stop using your tongue only to slide you fingers into her ass, stretching it for the strap-on which you have been dying to see move deep inside her ass. No would not mean no, and stop would not mean stop. You both had a safe word, and that’s all you had to pay attention to.
You stand back from her for a moment, admiring the way she was, knowing that her pussy was dripping wet and her asshole would open easily for almost anything to fuck it. Lifting a bottle of baby oil, you pour it into your hands and then rub it onto the strap-on, knowing she’s waiting, you take your time. You take the tip and push it against her ass, softly at first so she spreads her legs with no resistance, urging you to thrust it in deeper. You place both your hands on her hips and pull her hard against you as you push your hips into her. The noise, the screams she lets out as its full length is inside her almost makes you cum as you imagine you are really there, hearing those noises, feeling her ass.
As you fuck yourself harder with your fingers, the desire to touch your own ass grows and you move your other hand down so your fingers can press against you asshole. Without realising, you had slipped a finger into your ass while your other hand rubbed furiously against your throbbing clit. You knew you were going to cum. You started to making noises, imaging it was the woman in your head that you were fucking calling out, moaning with every thrust of your hips. As you fucked her faster and faster, so your hands worked on your own cunt and ass faster until you couldn’t refrain from cumming. With one final thrust of your hips, and one final scream, both the woman in your head and you came.
I loved watching you do that.
How I found out Santa was dead
Ok, so he’s not dead, as I had pointed out to me, he can’t be dead if he never existed in the first place but you know what I mean.
I can’t remember what age I was (ok, I can but I’m not telling cause it is potentially embarrassing), but I remember it was a gradual process. Here I was, a dyke in the making, growing up loving all the things us budding dykes are supposed to love, football, star wars, action figures. Yes, I was a tom boi.
If you were looking for me I could most likely be found playing football with the boys, racing my Cindy car down the hill (while I was sitting on it), or up a tree.
I screamed blue murder when I was made to wear a dress or skirt, even at the age of six I knew I wanted to be in trousers and dresses weren’t for me. Still my mum persisted. Girls, were, after all, supposed to be in dresses. After my baby sisters christening, when everyone was back at our house, probably getting pissed, and the kids were thrown out on to the street to play (get out of the way), I begged to be let out of the hideous ‘thing’ that was supposed to be a dress so I could play properly. My cries went unheeded.
So, Christmas would come and go, and, ungrateful sod that I am, it would always be tinged with disappointment that I got a Cindy doll instead of Action Man. I don’t ever remember if I asked Santa for anything, but I remember one year (you have to guess which one it was) I made a conscious decision to ask Santa for what I really wanted. I must have been getting suspicious about the whole jolly-fat-man-fitting-down-a-chimney-even-when-we-don’t-have-one story I was hearing year in, year out. I asked him for what I wanted with one thought in my mind – if I get any of these things I will know for sure that there is a Santa, and if I don’t, I’ll know for definite there isn’t.
Christmas morning came and guess what? Nothing, nada, zip. Not so much as a football sticker from the big red one. I knew Santa was dead. My childhood was officially over.
But it wasn’t the Santa story that was the point of this blog. This story, as I was telling it to someone the other night on the phone, started me thinking about the lies parents tell their kids simply because they don’t know how (or can’t be arsed) to answer it any other way.
You have Santa, the Easter bunny, the tooth fairy, and the story of creation. You grow up to learn that no matter how many crusts you eat, your hair is never going to go curly. Carrots don’t help you see in the dark, and no matter how strong the wind is that changes, your face will always return to its natural state. Childbirth does not occur through the belly button, and women don’t get pregnant simply because they kissed a man who loves them
But this one, this one is the biggy, for me anyway….that you’re gonna want to kiss boys!
“Mummy, this boy at school tried to kiss me, urgh, that’s gross”
“When you get older dear you’ll be glad boys want to kiss you”
Urm, no..I won’t!
Imagine not having to come out, not having to spend endless nights wondering what was going on that you fancied your best friend and not her brother.
Imagine if we’d grown up not beating ourselves up because we didn’t match up to what girls were ‘supposed’ to be and do?
I wonder what our world would be like if our parents had told us the truth?
Imagine.
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