THE ONE TIME I DISGRACED LESBIANS

My name is Vina, and those that know me are aware that I try to be a good ambassador of Lesbians everywhere I go.

Many lesbians can attest to the fact that there is a certain thrill to be gotten from giving a once-straight girl her first orgasm. The moans, the look of shocked pleasure, the trembling of thighs when you take them to that high that no one else has ever taken them – all of these sum up to a raise in the ego, and it is a high that I’d gotten so addicted to, so much so that it becomes something of a challenge to me when I hear a girl say, “I’ve never done this before.”

It is on this note that I met the love of my life. We met online. I was smitten with her the moment she wrote her first words to me. It was properly punctuated, filled with correct spellings, and it was obvious that I was dealing with an advanced mind. Being the sapiosexual that I am, I chased till I got her – or maybe she got me. Anyway, the purpose of this story is not to study who got whom.

In THREE days, we’d started dating and I’d started to check out engagement rings online. I hadn’t even seen her – not even a picture – and yet, I was sure that she was my wife.

In a week, we were already in love and everything was intense. The chemistry was mad; she made me horny all the time and I was so sure that if we met, we’d tear each other into pieces. Hearing her voice made things worse, and hearing her say I was her first girl ever served as a potent aphrodisiac that drove me wild with lust. I was eager to show her what pleasures waited for her on the other side.

What I however never expected was the show of shame that eventually happened when we met and had sex the first time.

About a month into our dating, she booked my flight and I found myself boarding an airplane to go see the love of my life for the first time ever.

She picked me up once I got there and the formalities were done. I ate, took a bath, and it was time to get to the business of the day, the very reason why I’d put my leg over the sink to scrape every single hair around the vicinity of my pussy.

I should have figured how things would end from the kiss. I do not like to kiss, but I do it every now and then to put my partners at ease. Our mouths touched and it was a lot of fidgeting, teeth clashing, sloppiness and overall just really horrible. I didn’t need any encouragement to skip the whole thing altogether and move on to other matters of sex.

I went for her breasts and did my signature trick. Hot, wet mouth on one nipple, while the other nipple was between my fingers and thumb. Usually, with other girls, this is the point where they throw their heads back and they begin to release throaty moans of pleasure. But my attempts here were met with grave silence, so much silence that I swear, I could hear crickets chirping.

Chineke God, wetin dey occur?

I licked. I slurped. I bit.

Nothing! Just nothing – maybe a faked twitch here and there, and that was it.

Oluwa!

I started to sweat.

What was I doing wrong? And how could I leave this session with my family name still intact?

It was now time to hurry along, time to go for the jugular. The clitoris has about eight thousand nerves, and of course, the magic is on that little stub. I was counting on working it to achieve my aim.

I kissed her slowly downwards, and as I tried to go even lower, she tried to stop me. I should have heeded, but I wanted to prove a point. So I kept going.

I reached between her legs to feel what I assumed would be soaking wet pussy. However, when I got there, my resolve to continue wavered. Her pussy was dry as Sahara!

I’d never touched a dry pussy in all of my life. I knew how to make a vagina wet and sloppy and waiting for me, and so, I was faced with a huge problem upon touching this pussy that wasn’t wet for me. It was dry. I mean dry as in DRY!

Eh God!!! Am I that horrible? What is happening?

I should stop, I told myself. I really should stop. But how would my self esteem survive this?

So, I soldiered on. I put my mouth on the clit – and let me just put it out there: This clit I was dealing with was honestly the best clit I’d ever felt. It was made for eating and it drove me wild with pleasure to kiss her there.

I did just that, kissed and slurped and even wrote all of the English alphabets on that clit. But that pussy never became wet. There was no Cumming or pleasurable moan or anything at all in between. I did everything and nothing was working.

I burst into tears.

How could I love someone this intensely and yet I couldn’t give her any pleasure? What had I done wrong? Did she not love me enough? Did she not find me attractive? Maybe I repulsed her? A lot of evil thoughts ran through my mind. That night, I fled from her bed and went to sleep in her spare room, unable to bear the shame in her presence.

I was going to leave the next day and never call her again. I’d never been that embarrassed. What had I done wrong? Just WHAT?!

Well, everything!

I’d done everything wrong and it took a while to realize this. I’d read, even known for a very long while, that every woman is different, and as such, every woman likes to be touched differently. But I had simply assumed that everyone would like the things I always did because every woman I had met up until this point did.

We didn’t break up because I loved her too much. However, what happened was that I humbled myself and finally asked her how she liked to be touched. And she told me. The next time we came together, she showed me how and I followed her cue. I asked questions when I did something new and I started to get moans and… Alright, let’s not continue with that line of thought.

Anyway, apparently, I’d been hurting her with half of the things I did to her that first time, because her body was built differently than most, and she’d just laid back and taken all of the pain of my ministrations.

Ouch! Vina, you sha need to be calming down o.

So this is me, begging lesbians to forgive me for disgracing our names. I swear I’ve redeemed myself.

Written by Vina