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I was asked: “How would you feel if your mother told you she was gay?”

If I wasn’t thinking in realistic terms since my mother has been married to my father for 28 years, and a revelation like that would break his heart, then I would be all for it. I’m obviously really open-minded to the lesbian lifestyle, but my reasoning is based on someone I consider to be my second mom that’s so happens to be a Dom.

My “second mom” who I’ll refer to as Dee, is the mother of one of my closest friends. Since the first day I met her she made me feel like I was a part of her family. Though I love my real mom very much, I bonded with Dee because on some levels I wished that my mother could be just like her. I grew up in a strict Christian and Caribbean household, which has become a bit more lenient in the past few years. My mother tried her best to be a “cool” mom by allowing me to partake in some of the things my dad would never allow. However, there were certain things that she remained strict or close minded about that I believe hindered our bonding.

Not to say that Dee was not strict with my friend but she was more tolerant, and practical about her daughter growing up and the things that would entail. I remember growing up watching television shows where the mother would take the time to explain the changes occurring in her daughter’s body, talk about dating, and assure their daughter that there was nothing more important than being herself. Dee was that type of mother. My mother tried her best but the way that she grew up made her uncomfortable with certain topics. When I got my first period my mother just pointed me to the maxi pads in her room. No talk, no chart, and no reassurance that I shouldn’t be ashamed of it. When I got to a certain age she got the guts to ask if I was a virgin. I never responded so all she said was “Don’t come home with a baby”.

I believe that the struggle Dee went through being not only a lesbian but a Dom, in an all white town, in a fairly republican state, made her hypersensitive to the struggles her children would face as they grew into their own identities. She talked very openly with her children about sex and other topics my mother still won’t touch with a ten foot pole.

My friend was told that her mother was gay when she was six years old. Though her household was peaceful, she did endure extra taunting from other kids in addition to the taunting about her race. It made her stronger in some aspects but defensive in others. We met in college when she learned to tone down her anger and as people started to become more tolerant of the existence of gay people in the community.

If my mother came out to me at a young age, I’m not sure if I would endure the same situations. I grew up in a way that no friends were ever allowed to visit my house and certain things were not allowed to be discussed, not even to other family members. I wasn’t allowed to tell people that my mother was pregnant until I was missing school because she was giving birth. I think that the revelation would have brought us closer though. Of course, it could have back fired and made her stricter because she wouldn’t want me to face the things was probably going through.

Although Dee has a very free spirit, she is levelheaded and she raised her children the same way. She never limited them in terms of choosing their paths. Do I think that just because someone is a lesbian that they are automatically free spirited and open minded to other peoples choices? No. I know that most of Dee’s accepting nature has to do with her own mother’s accepting nature. Her mother has embraced her lifestyle completely and helped her raise her children when she decided to leave their father and follow her heart.

I’m sure that there are Gay moms who could be just like my mother. The ones I have met, happen to be  just like Dee. Though they may not have the same support from their family, they are progressive in the way that they raise their children. The same core values are taught in regards to respect for themselves and others. I believe that if my mother told me today that she was Gay and her asking me to accept her, would allow her to in turn to understand the need I have for her to accept certain things about me.


 
 
Trying something a little different...here's a short story for you....

The Wettest Storm    

Sienna walked into the coffee shop where we met daily at the end of the work day. She had the same wide smile she wore everyday. I admired how she always seemed so happy. Her smile was contagious but today it didn’t help.   As soon as she sat down I blurted out “He broke up with me”   Before Sienna could begin to ask me any questions, I ran out of the café and into the thunderstorm that was raging outside. I couldn’t help but compare my inner turmoil to the storm. I stood on the sidewalk as the rain pounded on my body. I didn’t notice that Sienna was tapping me and shaking me, trying to get my attention.   “It will be okay sweetie,” she said.   “I… don’t… know… what happened. I thought… he was… the one,” I said between ragged breaths and sniffles.   I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t move. I didn’t remember how I got into her car. I didn’t remember how I ended up on my bed with her offering to undress me. I don’t know how I got into the warm bath. I just focused on the aching I felt in my chest. My heart hurt and my stomach was in severe knots.   I was jolted back to a more conscious state when my deep sobs of sadness were beginning to be replaced with soft moans. The knots in my stomach were beginning to release but another type of tension was building in my body. Gripping the side of tub I opened my eyes and saw Sienna with my breast in her mouth. Licking and sucking on my nipple while plunging her fingers into my vagina under the water.   She placed kisses on my chest, my neck and then my lips. I gave in. Kissing her with a passion I couldn’t compare to any other kiss I ever had. I soon found myself back in bed with my head between her legs as hers was in between mine. She held a firm grip on my butt and pushed me deeper into her mouth licking me as if writing the sweetest poem in a language that only she and I would understand. She tasted so sweet, and I sucked on her hoping to devour all of her juices as they started to drip down the side of my face.   As I felt the rush of pleasure about to burst through me I grabbed her head and gyrated my hips in the same direction as her tongue and she continued to rhythmically hump my face. I was still crying but begging her not to stop. My body began to tremble and I stuttered the first syllable of her name over and over in between calling out the name of our maker.   She stopped. “Not yet,” she said.   She lifted her hips off of my face and changed positions so that our legs were interlocked and our parts were perfectly aligned. She began to move back forth. It was as if our clits were kissing. At first it slow and meaningful. She starred into my eyes and as our gaze became more intense so did our movement. Both of our heads flew back as moans filled the air creating the most harmonious tune. My body began to tremble again. She began to pinch and suck her own nipples and I mirrored her actions. I felt the warm sensation as the cum began to flow out of me.   Then it was black.   When I opened my eyes my bedroom was dark. I sat up and attempted to digest what just happened.   “Are you okay babe.” A raspy voice asked.   “I’m fine,” I answered.   “Are you sure? You were moving around a lot in your sleep.”   The voice was deeper than the one I was expecting. I rolled over into muscular arms and rough hands that were nothing like the delicate ones that left fingerprints in my deepest places. The rain beat against my window and I closed my eyes trying to get back to the dream I just awoke from.  

 
 
 I look forward to February for one reason,Valentine’s Day.  However, two of the straight girl’s burdens are the pressure to have someone in your life to share the day with and the anticipation of seeing what that guy has in store. As I am getting older I have realized that Valentine’s Day is like a women’s Christmas and  more of an unwanted hassle to some men. I know some women who have even dumped their girlfriend before Valentine’s Day just to avoid having to make plans and spend any time or money.

The common excuse is that it’s an over commercialized day that has nothing to do with love and that they can show how much they love someone everyday. There is some validity to that feeling. However, some men don’t celebrate love on any of the other 364 days of the year either. One thing that is very clear is that some men and women see Valentine's Day differently. I had one man tell me recently in a very unenthusiastic way that he does not look forward to the day and that it’s just a day to give a woman some flowers and candy. 

                      (Insert blank face here)

As a straight girl, the main theory that fuels my curiosity about dating a woman is the idea that women would be more in tune with my wants and needs. Therefore, Valentine’s Day would be just as important to her as it is to me (even if I were dating a Dom) and my only worry would be that we would try too hard to out do each other. So, it made me think:  If I were a lesbian for at least one Valentine’s Day how would the perfect day be?

I picture all of the cliché things that come with the day like flowers and candy. What I would look forward to the most is the creativity of giving those items and the sincere emotions that come with it. For example: the candy wouldn’t be just a box from the last minute bin in a discount store. It would be my favorite ones unwrapped and fed to me one by one attached to some sweet yet erotic note about the chocolate resembling the color of my eyes and skin and how smooth, tasty, and intoxicating I am. The flowers would also be my favorite. Not the ones I say are my favorite because they are accessible (which means I could get them more often) but the ones that may have to be flown in or ordered ahead of time because they are not in season everywhere. Both of these items would be delivered in an ostentatious way making all of the women I know jealous with a note attached promising a very interesting night.

Through out the day I would receive other clues about what was planned for the night in a form of mini love letters because she knows I’m a sucker for love expressed on paper. When I arrive at the location picked for our special night, songs that are significant to our relationship play in the background. Our phones are off and put away because we are the only two people that matter at the moment. I can smell the food she spent the day preparing for me mixed in the air with the anticipation of the dessert afterwards. The dinner is almost ready, but she saved some items for us to make together, because though I’m not the best cook she knows I get excited trying to pretend that I have a show on Food Network.

An impromptu food fight leads to a licked finger and brushed neck to clean up the mess. A bath is suggested. The bathroom was already decorated in with candles and my favorite accessible flower because she believed I deserved to have both. As the tub is filling up, we undress each other and sway to the music still playing in the background. The bath is relaxing. We hold each other mouthing the lyrics of the songs coming from the speakers. We only leave the homemade oasis because the water is no longer warm.

We walk into the bedroom where on the center of the bed is a gift she made for me that chronicles the time we have spent together and leaves room to chronicle the time we have yet to spend. My gift to her is just as laced with sentiment. Before falling asleep we promise each other to always show this side of our feelings even on the days when it’s easier to be mad and distant.

My fantasy is not the most original, and if I were to be with someone the evening would probably change slightly due to the taste and preferences of that person. What makes my fantasy perfect in my eyes is the thought behind each gesture, as opposed to the obligation of giving me these things because the calendar says so.

To say that I’ve been disappointed on this day more than once is an understatement but I always keep hope alive. Some guys have come close. To all the women who are cuddled up on this day looking into each other’s eyes and making declarations of love and commitment; enjoy. This straight girl is hoping that my man is hit with cupid’s lesbian arrow this year.

 
 
I would be lying if I said I never imagined what it would be like to sleep with a woman. I wouldn’t label myself as bi-curious but I’ll admit to my curious thoughts. I have never had the opportunity to be with a woman but if it happened I would not want her to use a strap-on or expect me to. Why? The best part about my girl on girl fantasy is that the other girl doesn’t have a penis.  I always picture that experience to be soft, gentle, and in slow motion like the sex scenes in movies.

The difference is after having real live sex with men I know that it’s seldom gentle or in slow motion, but the plus is that there is still a connection that his real life penis is making with my body.  To me the strap on is impersonal. I would also feel guilty that this poor woman is pumping away into vessel that rarely releases that way (I have only had one penis that has truly been successful in making that happen). I know that they make strap-ons now that are built to pleasure both the giver and the taker but I would prefer to be giving at the same time.

I know that lesbian sex is not always soft and gentle. Rough lesbian sex is just as appealing but I would rather feel the roughness of the other woman’s body on minethan to have a plastic barrier between us. Does that mean we can’t use any toys? No. I wouldn’t mind a dildo being brought into the equation but it would have to be in the other woman’s hand and her mouth would have to be just as busy, otherwise it’s just as weird as a woman staring up at a guy when she is giving him head….awkward. That would just be my preference.

From the outside looking in my only references about lesbian sex are my lesbian friends and my lesbian porn collection. In my opinion the porn is marketed to men in many ways because I’m not sure what pleasure a lesbian woman actually gets from sucking on a fake penis. I like penis and I wouldn’t do it. Also the women wearing the strap on look tired, uncomfortable, and partially bored. My lesbian friends say don’t knock it till you try it. The ones using the strap on say that theyenjoy the sense of power and the women enjoying the strap on have all been with men before and say they love penis just not the men it comes attached to.

In my opinion, the best sex is mutually interactive. We’re touching and tugging, licking and sucking, biting and nibbling, and maybe even smacking it if the mood is right. What draws most straight women to experiment or pursue sexual relationships with other women is the idea that someone with the same parts as you would have a better idea of what you would like. The thought is that women are bit more sensitive about pleasing their mates and will be more interested in ensuring that both of us reached the finish line by any means necessary. For some women a strap-on may do the trick but for this straight girl pure pussy is preferred.