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  • — Out of the Closet —
    Lesbian Female / 52

    I went to a mostly women's college. For my 21st birthday a girl gave me a pair of crotchless panties. Red, satin, lacy crotchless panties. Everyone laughed and jokes were made. The girls asked me to model the panties and after a lot of pushing I put them on and came out for them to see. Standing up you couldn't tell anything, except of course that they were red and satin and lacy panties. The girl who gave me the panties stood up and came over to me and kissed me straight on the lips. It was a straight on lip to lip kiss. The other girls made noises and called for more. This time she kissed me and put her hand on my boob. She took my boob out and kissed it, sucking gently on my nipple. I was uncomfortable while she kissed my boob, she kissed me again on my lips and pushed me down into the easy chair and got down on her knees and took my knees in her hands and opened my legs. The other girls were standing around, telling her to go for it, she got my legs open and she went for it and ate me in front of everyone there.

    From then on she always kissed me on the lips, she touched my boobs. If I tried to push her away she gave these looks and I relented and she would caress my boobs and either kiss me through my shirt or open my shirt and kiss my boob. I got pushed down on the bed one afternoon and she took off her panties and straddled my face and told me she wanted to feel my tongue all the way inside her pussy. She called me her girlfriend and expected me to tell everyone that she was my girlfriend. This was a women's liberal arts college and there was an active gay community, and we were identified as a lesbian couple. Several of the girls I knew were also lesbians and now that I was out among them I found out that more and more girls were lesbian, not to mention several of the members of the faculty.

    But this was the fall of 1986, being queer was something you did not write home about. I was queer all right, and I was her queer girlfriend. I was over all the hesitation and on campus and at parties where most of the girls were queer we got wild. I was passed around a bit, but jealousy kept her from letting me go to far and she eventually put a stop to it. From time to time she would eat a freshman, but she told me it was for their own good. Someone had to open their eyes.

    We moved to New York after graduation, getting jobs as assistants in Advertising and Publicity. Her dad was an executive in this large ad agency and he got us the jobs. Entry level, use our English degrees and learn the business. Her dad knew we were queer, lots of people in the advertising business were queer, men and women. It was just easier to spot the queer men. I got hit on from time to time, but the word got out that I liked a girl and after a year we had settled into our routine.

    We were young. And I was head over heals in love with her. One evening she didn't come home on time. She came in quite late, I was a mess by then worrying where she was and she told me that this guy had gotten her and screwed her. A man from her work, she tried calling before she left work but I wasn't home and she wasn't able to avoid going out with him. We spent the night washing her out, but we lived in fear until she got her period. Being queer wasn't that easy, and we lived waiting for it to happen again or happen to me. It was only a matter of time before some man decided that you were it for him. It happened to me at a company Holiday party. Now we were both dirty. We were both twenty three years old.

    We went on the pill, a precaution. We were lucky neither one of us got pregnant. In the nineties it wasn't common for queer girls to have kids. Yes, there were kids, but usually from a marriage. And to be truthful we didn't seem to want kids, it wasn't in us. We were good aunts instead. Queer aunts. In our homes no one spoke that we were queer, we were just friends, friends that had never found anyone. My father would say that was one of the problems of sending me to that women's college, I hadn't met a husband and now it was too late. Sure they knew, we were obvious, we lived in a an apartment and had one room and one bed. But the excuse was that living in New York was expensive and that is all we could afford on our salaries. We turned 30 and our parents chipped in and we went to Paris.

    In Paris it was o.k. to hold hands, but we kissed under the Eiffel Tower and we were booed and hushed. There was no place to show our love and kiss and hold each other, not like the straight couples did. There were clubs and behind closed doors, and parties with other queer ladies, but no where out in the open. Today it is o.k., but not then. Not when we were young. Who cares if two fifty year old women go on a cruise together. Who cares if two fifty year old women introduce themselves as being married. Who cares if I call her my wife. No one cares anymore. It is just that the kiss we had for each other in Paris never happened. That kiss never happened. When you are fifty two years old and you kiss in Paris it is not the same passion you had when you were thirty. Not the passion you see with the young girls kissing under the Eiffel Tower today.

    #41401 — Comments (0) — Sep 6, 2018 at 8:35 AM — That's Juicy! (1) Remove This.

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