The Personal Story of a Lesbian’s First Time
A Trip to the Beach
My first lesbian story begins with a trip that was a last minute decision. Friendship, camaraderie, and relaxation were in the forefront of my mind, but my "need to know" was lying just beneath the surface.
I was headed to an island off the coast of Florida to meet my best friend, whose face I had not yet seen. Her name was Katharine and we met during an online chat one month before my trip.
She was 35 and lived in Portland, Oregon. And I—29 at the time—lived in New York City.
Within days of bumping into each other in the virtual stratosphere, we were speaking via telephone. Our closeness formed quickly because of a similar mental turmoil we were each experiencing in our own lives. We clung to each other as if we were the only ones on earth who understood.
I had an easy flight, rented a sporty Mustang, and drove two hours south of Tallahassee to the island of St. George. I was on a high—exhilarated by driving fast, playing loud music, and meeting my potential soul mate. But when I crossed the long bridge to the island, my stomach formed a knot and my palms began to sweat. I was extremely nervous.
The house was easy enough to find; Katharine's directions were clear and accurate. Her house was two-thirds of the way down a road where undeveloped lots filled with wild brush and sand separated all the beach houses from each other.
No one in the house came out to greet me after I parked, so I slowly opened the trunk, removed my bag, and walked up to the stairs of the stilted house to the front door.
Katharine answered—her blond hair tousled from the wind, and her tall, voluptuous body measuring close to six feet tall. She was wearing a t-shirt and shorts.
Before I could say anything, I was swept into a long, strong hug that felt like she was holding me up. My legs went weak. I don't remember what was said; I was too excited to take mental notes.
And so began the period I call "facial shock." For the next 12 hours, we tiptoed visually around each other. Our eyes flickered on each other's faces and then off again quickly. Apparently, this phenomenon is quite common in our online community and some people never adjust to the other person's face, which can result in an ended friendship.
The Makings of a Relationship
That night, we went for a walk on the beach to talk. We walked through the dark dunes, carrying our vodka tonics and discussing our respective rollercoaster of marital problems. We convinced ourselves that we married the same man. And there were many spooky coincidences about our lives that mirrored each other. This is the reason why our online friendship gelled so quickly.
The shape of her head so enticingly close to mine made me giddy. Although she did not fit the mental image I had of her, based on the photo she sent, I was incredibly attracted to her. This was a woman I already loved, a special person, and a wonderful friend.
We both confessed an attraction to women on the phone and even furtively suggested that we might actually be attracted to each other. Armed with this knowledge, my body began to think for itself and it screamed, "Kiss her!" But due to my uncertainty of her feelings, my fear of opening Pandora's box and actually kissing a woman, and our timidness, I didn't act.
The next morning, we were much more comfortable after getting drunk on the beach together the night before and growing accustomed to each other's faces. So we spent a relaxed day together with her two children, parents, brother, and sister-in-law, enjoying the lack of activity.
On the second evening, she and I decided to venture out for a drink at Johnny O's, the local bar on the island. We were the life of the party, laughing and sharing intimate stories.
She dolled herself up to look gorgeous—her eyes and lips leaping out from her face and screaming:Look at me!And I did ... a lot. She was one of the most amazing people I had ever met and our bond was complete. However, I knew I could not jeopardize this with a clumsy advance.
She wanted to walk on the beach after we got home, but a storm blew in and lightning and thunder filled the sky. We took our positions on the floorboards of the screened-in porch and watched the show. The entire scene was far too stirring for me to concentrate. There we were — lying on the floor in the dark, her voice floating towards me, reminding me of all our past conversations and of how much I loved and trusted her.
Segue to Seduction
Katharine asked me what she termed a "potentially embarrassing question." "Megan," she said with a soft voice, "how do you feel about us right now?" I immediately knew what she was referring to—the time we had spoken about our potential attraction.
After a thoughtful pause, I responded, "Very aroused."
She said she wished we could hold each other that night. The thought drove me wild. And then she said, "I want to touch you."
She moved her body—ever so slightly—a few inches towards me. Her hand touched my hair at the hairline and tucked it behind my ear. Her breath drifted warmly over my face, as her knee touched my left thigh. I felt electric currents running up my spine. And when her lips touched my forehead, I felt a throb in between my legs. I let out a shaky breath; my body trembled. She felt it too and said, "Megan, are you okay? I don't want to do anything to upset you. We can stop if you want."
"I'm okay, I'm just very excited," I said, "I don't want to stop. I've envisioned this for a long time."
I groaned softly and moved in close, turning sideways to face her, my right arm pulling her in. This made me tremble even more. I was excited, yet fearful that this experience would not live up to the fantasies I dreamed. But mostly, I felt weak with wanting her.
Her kisses fell on my face as her free hand roamed my body. I stroked her back and received her caresses with a kind of frozen ecstasy. When her hand reached my breast, the breath I took was as loud as the thunder outside. At this point, our lips touched. So gently, so sweetly, we explored each other's mouths. My hands were on her breasts—so soft; so beautiful; so large. She pulled up her blouse and I buried my face in between them. Her hand reached between my legs, touching me on top of my layer of clothing. She sighed and said, "I want to taste you."
Oh my God! No one had ever spoken those words to me. Of all the men I had been with, not one expressed such a desire. I whispered that we should go into the bedroom and resume this in a softer, more comfortable space. She noted that we would have to be quiet inside. I said I could handle it. She confessed that maybe she could not.
We rose slowly, nervously, as we took steps towards a place I knew there was no turning back from. After tonight, our lives, our marriages, and our whole beings would change. I gladly stepped forward—wanting her so much, wanting to experience true feminine lovemaking with my best friend. We didn't look back.
When we reached the bedroom we awkwardly paused, then she held out her wonderful long arms and I walked straight into them. My head fit perfectly in the hollow between her neck and breasts. We began kissing again and moved to the bed to lie down. I lied on top of her warm, soft body. I held her face and kissed her deeply; she caressed me all over.
Then, the most erotic thing happened. Sweet words emerged from her lips saying how beautiful my body was, how gorgeous my breasts were, and how my skin was so soft. These verbal cues were unlike anything I had ever heard spoken to me before—something I had only dreamed about.
How did she know?
She held me close and soon she was sleeping quietly in my arms. Unfortunately, I was wide-awake, experiencing the aftermath of this earth-shattering event. Something that felt so natural and so right had just changed the way I viewed my sexual identity, my marriage, and my new best friend, Katharine. I would never be the same.
Happily Ever After
When I left Florida four days later, I began relaying this transformation to my friends. I told my husband—he left. I told my three brothers—they were quietly skeptical. But I assured myself that I had finally found happiness in the arms of a woman. And that it was okay.
With Katharine's encouragement, I began dating in New York City. I enjoyed meeting and sleeping with a variety of women, but my heart remained with her. Her marriage also ended. And after a year of a turbulent long-distance relationship and short, intense trips to see each other, I moved to Portland. I needed to see if we had a future together. Nine months after my arrival, our feelings and goals aligned and we began nurturing a serious relationship, based on a sureness of who we had become, and who we knew we wanted to be with.
*Originally published by Alyson Publications. Reprinted with permission from the author.