Thursday, May 11, 2006
"J" (Pt.3)
This is the story of my encounter with J in the spring of 2004. We hit the sack together on our second date, after a day of hiking in Marin County. Our connection seemed to be moving along swimmingly. J has been celibate for nearly a year, and before that she had been in an eight-year relationship with another woman. She also told me that, on an average of every ten years, she hooks up with a man. Not intending to, it just works out that way. I have met a number of so-called lesbians who seem to end up in bed with men, and ten years is the number mentioned a lot. What is this about? Some bizarre lesbian ritual wherein they let themselves be pulled along by biological influences? I have deduced that even lesbians realize sometimes how difficult it is to get lesbians into bed. Or women in general for that matter. So hooking up with a guy may be a way of getting some sex, at least. Of course they probably won't share that tidbit with any of their dyke friends. That would leave them very "declasse" as the French people are want to say.
My friend L, with whom I was staying in Oakland on this trip, told me once in L.A. that she didn't want her lesbian friends to find out she was sleeping with men too. Now, it didn't matter if her male lover knew she was sleeping with women, that was OK. It's just the women don't care for that at all. Go figure.
J was a classic dyke in that she pretty much liked women as her sexual partners. But she did not seem to harbor hostility towards men, or those bisexual women like myself, who were even partnered with men. So I thought J was a creature fallen from heaven; women like this don't grow on trees, so I was very pleased we had started off on such a strong footing.
Our first night together was very sensuous. A lot of rolling around, rubbing of bodies together. Kind of like massaging, but without the hands. This night also marked my first experience using saran wrap for protection when I went down on J. Being a child of the late 60s had really spoiled me. We never had to worry about any of that crap back then - safe sex, AIDS, even sexually transmitted diseases were rarely encountered in my world. So saran wrap and dental dams were obnoxious but now necessary accoutrements for any sexual encounter.
J pulls out her worn harness, puts it around her waist and I climb on top of her. She has this really neat purple dildo, with an interesting curved shape, not all that huge. Just really interesting looking. As if the makers were trying to create something penile without it necessarily looking penile. After all, we are fine upstanding lesbians who love penetration, but we would rather try and forget that it's a penis we would really like inside us. Let's call it something else, and let's make it look innocuous.
It's vastly amusing to me, a bisexual woman, the conniptions that lesbian women go through sometimes to clean up their act and make things all so politically correct. They may hate "bio cock," as they term it, yet will go out with a butch who will fuck them properly with a synthetic version. Some of them make a big deal out of "packin," as they term it. Then you'll find questions being posed on Craigslist and elsewhere, about how and where a serious gay girl can wear her "toy" out in public without getting arrested. And some girls even will explain to you, in total earnestness, how they prefer the toy dildo to the real thing.
"After all," as one girl says. "A synthetic one is always reliable, you don't have to wait for it to get hard, you don't have those icky male emotions tagging along to make trouble." My reply is usually about like this: Well, it may be less trouble, but often to me it is not as interesting, because I LIKE those messy emotional things that factor in with a guy. I LIKE that he's not sometimes the superhero he likes to think he is. I LIKE sometimes that he does not grow erect upon command. It makes for a more poignant connection in a way.
But the dildo that first night with J delighted me no end. So we played and rubbed and kissed and rolled around and laughed some more, then remembered the dykes upstairs and tried to keep it down. It must have been three something when we finally nodded off.
In the morning, we take a bath together in J's antique claw-foot tub. Cool! Then she makes an ample breakfast, with sausage and eggs. I get the feeling J wants to fatten me up a bit. I'm all for that. J is a Taurus, a sign very compatible for my planets, which are scattered over Gemini mostly, with Mars and Venus conjunct in Taurus. A constellation which ensures J and I will be climbing all over one another for a while to come.
I eventually have to take my leave of J and drive back home to L.A. It's a sweet leave-taking, but we are looking forward to our next encounter, without having to worry about when it will be. I am in seventh heaven and mostly sing my way down the I-5.
Finally I've discovered a woman I really like, and am physically attracted to. And she to me. A huge weight seems to have displaced itself from my mind, once and for all.
TO BE CONTINUED
My friend L, with whom I was staying in Oakland on this trip, told me once in L.A. that she didn't want her lesbian friends to find out she was sleeping with men too. Now, it didn't matter if her male lover knew she was sleeping with women, that was OK. It's just the women don't care for that at all. Go figure.
J was a classic dyke in that she pretty much liked women as her sexual partners. But she did not seem to harbor hostility towards men, or those bisexual women like myself, who were even partnered with men. So I thought J was a creature fallen from heaven; women like this don't grow on trees, so I was very pleased we had started off on such a strong footing.
Our first night together was very sensuous. A lot of rolling around, rubbing of bodies together. Kind of like massaging, but without the hands. This night also marked my first experience using saran wrap for protection when I went down on J. Being a child of the late 60s had really spoiled me. We never had to worry about any of that crap back then - safe sex, AIDS, even sexually transmitted diseases were rarely encountered in my world. So saran wrap and dental dams were obnoxious but now necessary accoutrements for any sexual encounter.
J pulls out her worn harness, puts it around her waist and I climb on top of her. She has this really neat purple dildo, with an interesting curved shape, not all that huge. Just really interesting looking. As if the makers were trying to create something penile without it necessarily looking penile. After all, we are fine upstanding lesbians who love penetration, but we would rather try and forget that it's a penis we would really like inside us. Let's call it something else, and let's make it look innocuous.
It's vastly amusing to me, a bisexual woman, the conniptions that lesbian women go through sometimes to clean up their act and make things all so politically correct. They may hate "bio cock," as they term it, yet will go out with a butch who will fuck them properly with a synthetic version. Some of them make a big deal out of "packin," as they term it. Then you'll find questions being posed on Craigslist and elsewhere, about how and where a serious gay girl can wear her "toy" out in public without getting arrested. And some girls even will explain to you, in total earnestness, how they prefer the toy dildo to the real thing.
"After all," as one girl says. "A synthetic one is always reliable, you don't have to wait for it to get hard, you don't have those icky male emotions tagging along to make trouble." My reply is usually about like this: Well, it may be less trouble, but often to me it is not as interesting, because I LIKE those messy emotional things that factor in with a guy. I LIKE that he's not sometimes the superhero he likes to think he is. I LIKE sometimes that he does not grow erect upon command. It makes for a more poignant connection in a way.
But the dildo that first night with J delighted me no end. So we played and rubbed and kissed and rolled around and laughed some more, then remembered the dykes upstairs and tried to keep it down. It must have been three something when we finally nodded off.
In the morning, we take a bath together in J's antique claw-foot tub. Cool! Then she makes an ample breakfast, with sausage and eggs. I get the feeling J wants to fatten me up a bit. I'm all for that. J is a Taurus, a sign very compatible for my planets, which are scattered over Gemini mostly, with Mars and Venus conjunct in Taurus. A constellation which ensures J and I will be climbing all over one another for a while to come.
I eventually have to take my leave of J and drive back home to L.A. It's a sweet leave-taking, but we are looking forward to our next encounter, without having to worry about when it will be. I am in seventh heaven and mostly sing my way down the I-5.
Finally I've discovered a woman I really like, and am physically attracted to. And she to me. A huge weight seems to have displaced itself from my mind, once and for all.
TO BE CONTINUED
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My wife and I live in Southern California and dream of moving up north because only people up north are as cool as you are. You're the kind of slut we want to be worthy of knowing. But where are your earlier posts? Where else do you blog?
# posted by 
: 3:58 PM
: 3:58 PM
Thanks guys for your supportive comments, including the slut part LOL. Glad I am recognized for my true colors. My tennis blog is at www.tennisdiary.comHope you continue to enjoy the writing!
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