Cunning linguist

I've mentioned that my boi is the first female-bodied lover I've had but the truth is that I have been queer my entire life. I knew it when I was 5; the little blondie across the street and I were "engaged". I loved her so! But then my mother told me that girls and girls couldn't fall in love and I believed her. My girl-crushes cooled off for a time as I grew up a bit more, but when I was a freshman in high school, I fell in capital-L Love for the first time...with the captain of my all-girl swim team. I didn't know exactly what I was feeling. I just knew that when she was around, I was so much more alive. Butterflies flocked in my stomach, and when she traced her fingers along my inner thigh on a late-night bus ride from one of our away meets, under the guise of "massaging" my leg, I thought I would die if she didn't stop touching me right that second. Or if she did.

But she was a senior and I was a freshman and all too soon she left for college. I remained at school with nothing but rumors of my supposed lesbianism, which were positively soul-crushing to me. Lesbian. It was a filthy word and it frightened me to the core. So I spent the next three years denying the rumors the best way I could: by dating as many boys as possible.

I didn't actually have sex for the first time until I was 18 -- the summer after I graduated high school. It's the same kind of boring tale that so many people have; dark 7-11 parking lot, front seat of my car, wondering if it was in yet and why I wasn't bleeding. It didn't hurt. It didn't feel great. It didn't really feel like much at all, actually. And he was a total loser, as well. I didn't do it for love or because all my friends were doing it. I just wanted to get it over with before I left for college. So as far as I was concerned, sex was messy and boring. I didn't mind doing it but it didn't knock my socks off by a long shot.

College: I screwed around with 5 different guys in the first two weeks and then immediately fell into a long-term relationship with the safest (read: most boring and backbone-less) boy I'd met. And I spent my free time online, reading all that I could about bisexualism (I was willing to admit that I *might* be bi, but not a Lesbian, oh no no no), and every time we fucked I closed my eyes and saw nothing but girls.

I tentatively attended one meeting of the undergrad GLBT club; it seemed like a huge clique, I was terribly shy, and I left as soon as I possibly could. I crushed regularly on girls in my classes but didn't dare hit on one -- what if I was rejected? Everyone knew me as straight. I tried so hard to fit myself to that label that I couldn't even see myself clearly anymore. I was suffocating.

Finally, after a long, long struggle, I admitted to myself that I was queer. And I admitted to myself that I was in love with my boi -- it only took YEARS to get to that point. But he was in a relationship, I was in a relationship, blah blah blah...so I'll fast-forward to a few months ago.

He's female-bodied; so am I. I had had plenty of time to dream about what sex with him would be like. I'd read so much porn that I think I actually exhausted the internet's seemingly endless resources! And yet, there I was, 29 years old and faced with my first-ever real live cunt. Oh. My. God. And what made it worse is that he'd had more than a little experience since he'd been out as queer since he was 15, and out as trans since he was 21. Let's just say he's always been popular with the ladies.

So there I am, in his room, on my stomach, between his legs. My heart was racing, I was dripping with arousal, and I was scared out of my mind. What if I did it wrong? What if I didn't like the taste? What if I hurt him by accident? What if...I was HORRIBLE at it?

But none of my fears changed the reality of his gorgeous pussy laid out before me and I knew that I had best dive in, literally and figuratively. It's what I'd always wanted, after all, and if I was bad at it, I'd learn in time how to please him.

Eyes shut. Tongue out. Breathe. His scent, both new and entirely familiar, intoxicated me. I leaned forward and made contact with his skin, just above his clit. Salty and sweet at the same time -- it was a new taste to me, but not bad at all. Just different than I'd tasted before.

I opened my eyes and panicked for a second. What if I couldn't find his clit? But there it was, just where it should be -- he is blessed with a larger clit than most and I was *so* grateful for it (and still am!) because it gave me the landmark I was looking for. I hesitated, tongue poised...and licked. Gently. No teeth.

Further up the bed, he moaned encouragingly. "A little harder." So I gave him some pressure and licked again. His second moan released something inside me, and suddenly all of my fear was gone. I mean, I HAD one of these myself! I had a good idea of what felt good. All that remained to find out was what he specifically preferred!

As I relaxed, I decided that I would take a plunge (heh) that I hadn't actually planned on trying so soon, and starting at his clit, my first two fingers slid between his inner lips and I began to probe gently for his opening.

And I couldn't find it. Panic returned! What the fuck must he be thinking of me right now? I tried to hurry up but his wetness (oh, he was so so so wet) confused my touch and I was too afraid to push too hard because I didn't want to hurt him. Oh god, this is taking forever... I began licking harder at his clit, hoping to distract him at least, and without even thinking about it, I took the whole thing into my mouth. Pinning it against the roof with my tongue, I carefully began to rub it back and forth. He arched his back and spread his legs further for me -- I was thrilled! It was working!

As his hips began to move, my fingers suddenly slipped into him. I was so relieved! That only lasted a second, because I was immediately overcome by this new, incredible feeling -- the feeling of being completely enveloped by my lover's body. It was so intense that I began to cry, my tears mixing with his slickness and bringing more salt to my tongue.

As he began to come, I instinctively curled my fingers into the tightness in his cunt and that's how I found his g-spot, the existence of which I had questioned until that moment.

Afterward, wrapped in his arms, I told him that it was the most beautiful experience I'd yet had with a lover. And it was, until he taught me to come.