After listening to the descriptions of my lesbian friend’s dalliances and what sounds like intense, carnal evenings with their girlfriends, I find myself outside, sweating and lighting a cigarette. Then I venture home to take a cold shower before the jealousy becomes all consuming. I haven’t had anything like what I’m hearing from these ladies with a guy in quite some time, and could probably count on one hand the encounters that are on par with what I’m hearing from my Sapphic sisters.
I recently had a conversation with my friend and she was colorfully describing an evening between her and her girlfriend that left my mouth agape and salad spilling from it as we sat at lunch. Lately, I’ve been accustomed to the put in, pump, pull out type of encounter, which is fine with online hookups more or less, but when occurring in relationships it leaves a lot to be desired and when they leave, a sore right arm.
It’s their mastering of the use of many body parts and more importantly, the duration of their encounters from foreplay to completion… Well, completions (It was 4 hours. I'm lucky to get 4 minutes), and the multiple techniques that makes me want lesbian sex, without that whole lesbian thing. Gays seem to have just mastered one part of sex; great with the mouth, terrible with everything else or wonderful with their hands, but done before the number plate in my analog clock can flip to the next minute. It seems the weapons in the sexual arsenal are on a scale of mass destruction with my lesbian friends and I’m left with a Saturday Night Special.
What I heard from her, and other lesbians, sounds like an erotic roller coaster of passion that ends with both parties swimming in their own sweat st the end. It doesn’t turn me on, but leaves me thinking that lesbians should really set up shop and teach classes at the local Learning Annex to some of these gays, if they could only get them to stop staring off at the sparkly objects.
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