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Lesbian stories sex each other

Lesbian stories sex each other

Cancel 0 The first time I had sex with a girl, we did it in a closet. She had a huge walk-in closet with a bed in it, and she would sit on that bed, light candles, and draw and write on the walls. It was like being inside her soul. She painted and drew and the things she put on those walls were beautiful and honest and every reason I loved her. Because I loved her.

And I knew I loved her, and at 6 a. So that night, under the guise that we were just friends from school, we went up to her room and shut and locked the door. We sat next to each other, and giggled.

I told her I had never done this before. Because none of that matters when you want to love someone for more than just their body.

So we listed how we were going to do this. We would kiss first, and then we outlined the next steps and how we would do them one at a time and then we would stop and talk about it and make sure we still wanted to do it or go to the next step and if at any point one of us wanted to stop, that was it, we would stop. Girls were what I really wanted. And when something ever matters to me, I am usually perplexed and terrified and cowardly and confused.

These boys never made me orgasm, I made myself orgasm, they just happened to be there while it happened. They never made me cry for any other reason than that I felt unwanted. She could sense that.

She asked me what was wrong. I told her the truth. That kind of orgasm. And I thought that was as good as it got, until I made her do the same thing, and that was even better.

We laid next to each other for a while after that, limbs intertwined, the playlist still on repeat, the candles burning out. The sun was rising. My real life was dawning again. She was falling asleep, but my eyes were peeled open and staring at the ceiling. It tells me it means something. It shows me what matters. But the truth is, the only people who walked away, were those women themselves. You will be okay.

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Lesbian Love Stories



Lesbian stories sex each other

Cancel 0 The first time I had sex with a girl, we did it in a closet. She had a huge walk-in closet with a bed in it, and she would sit on that bed, light candles, and draw and write on the walls. It was like being inside her soul. She painted and drew and the things she put on those walls were beautiful and honest and every reason I loved her. Because I loved her. And I knew I loved her, and at 6 a.

So that night, under the guise that we were just friends from school, we went up to her room and shut and locked the door. We sat next to each other, and giggled.

I told her I had never done this before. Because none of that matters when you want to love someone for more than just their body. So we listed how we were going to do this. We would kiss first, and then we outlined the next steps and how we would do them one at a time and then we would stop and talk about it and make sure we still wanted to do it or go to the next step and if at any point one of us wanted to stop, that was it, we would stop.

Girls were what I really wanted. And when something ever matters to me, I am usually perplexed and terrified and cowardly and confused. These boys never made me orgasm, I made myself orgasm, they just happened to be there while it happened. They never made me cry for any other reason than that I felt unwanted. She could sense that. She asked me what was wrong. I told her the truth. That kind of orgasm. And I thought that was as good as it got, until I made her do the same thing, and that was even better.

We laid next to each other for a while after that, limbs intertwined, the playlist still on repeat, the candles burning out. The sun was rising. My real life was dawning again. She was falling asleep, but my eyes were peeled open and staring at the ceiling.

It tells me it means something. It shows me what matters. But the truth is, the only people who walked away, were those women themselves. You will be okay.

Lesbian stories sex each other

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2 Comments

  1. And when something ever matters to me, I am usually perplexed and terrified and cowardly and confused. But the truth is, the only people who walked away, were those women themselves. Twin groans filled the kitchen.

  2. Fiona Zedde Illustrated by: Chrisanne smelled like that same perfume she wore in Italy, and of lemons and desire. There was so much beauty.

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