The next part of my history with men is fairly boring, tons of boys (or toys, as I named them myself) that followed each other swiftly. And after I was on the pill, I even felt a penis inside of me properly a few times, but only with guys I knew were virgins. In fact, I still have a tendency to seek out virgins for several reasons. While they miss experience, they try much harder and can make the tension quite a lot more intense, making the sensation for me more interesting as well. It's also a lot less worries about diseases or other nastiness. And they are fun to seduce, to play with their insecurities, dreams and expectations. A lot of them even surprise me with the depth of their desires. In a way a virgin is more malleable, as they are not yet conditioned by previous women and therefore more open about their fantasies. Of course every rule has its exceptions and I sometimes go for other prey, for variation.
But before we get there, I suppose I should talk about the experiences I've had with women, or rather girls. It took me surprisingly long to try, as biology books didn't say much about it. You're probably noticing that I try to keep my interests as subtle as possible to the outside world. Getting my information from books rather than from people. It was my way of keeping it a secret. I was one of the few girls that didn't talk about their sex-life. If they only knew. But, once I got my hands on some shady magazines on my major interest (sex), female intercourse was swiftly suggested. Funnily enough it took me some reading before I got the usefulness of it. But one comment on a question of lesbian sex made me smile and realize that it was worth trying.
The comment was simply: Wouldn't a girl know better how to pleasure another girl?
Getting it to happen wasn't as easy as I originally thought. Our school wasn't strongly religious or frivolous so it wasn't something openly talked about either way, meaning if anyone was gay they didn't talk about it. I had some thoughts as to which girls were into others, but as there were many best friends, it was never easy to guess. Even kissing each other on the lips was not that strange a thing between two women. When you saw two guys doing that, you mostly knew what the situation was, exceptions excluded. Usually guys didn't kiss in plain sight. After a while I found a girl that I liked and that seemed to be open to the possibility. She wasn't (known as) a lesbian, but she never seemed to have a problem talking openly with me about various things. It might be worth mentioning that despite the amount of guys that I'd had, my reputation at school was one of virginity, oddly enough. My politeness and calm apparently threw people off. So girls with a proper upbringing and status had no qualms about talking to me, I wasn't the school slut. No, she had her own little clique of people around her that wished they were as slutty as she was.
With the girl I was a lot more careful in getting close to her. She was open-minded enough to study together and even take a shower after we were done. It was mid-summer and quite hot so I would have asked even if I didn't have any seductive plots. while we undressed, she didn't mind when I admired her body and I asked if I could touch it once we were underneath the stream of water. Her breasts were a little more developed than mine which made for a perfect excuse. From there the true adventure began. I was aching to be touched myself but it was already quite intense to touch another feminine body. She didn't have very developed breasts yet, but her nipples were dazzling in their cuteness. Defined tone and a very soft pink skin of her aureoles that ended up as little buttons that literally could be pushed to turn her on. Adorable! Her soft moans filled the shower as I rubbed the slope of her breasts and her nipples, even licking them softly to make her feel even better. When I slowed down and looked at her, I didn't say anything but didn't look apologetic either. She was confused at first, but still hot.
She made sure the bathroom was locked before we continued, put the shower on very softly so it would make noise and walked to me to kiss me. My first kiss by a girl was... interesting. My mind was racing to try and grasp the actual thing that made it so different from a guy's kiss. It wasn't the softness of it, as some guys kissed very soft. But there was something indefinably feminine about it. Perhaps her taste, movements or even the shape of her tongue. Almost automatically we had our towels on the tile floor and were we cuddling and kissing, our hands moving over skin, touching and exploring everywhere. She felt slightly too comfortable in this situation to be completely without experience, but her fingers didn't move for the most sensitive areas immediately.
In fact, my inquiring mind got me to go for her sweet spot first. Though I'm not sure if it could be called sweet as such, more a sort of subtle bitterness that wasn't at all unpleasant. Exploring her labia with my tongue was immensely rewarding. I was never able to reach there myself and guys, while sometimes able, mostly fumbled about. It almost made me proud when I was able to so easily navigate through those intimate folds of flesh and make her feel incredibly good. It incidentally made me move automatically on top of her as having my legs on the towels was infinitely more comfortable than the cold and harsh tiles. When her tongue mimicked my own naughty behavior, it was like a shock coursed through my body.
She found my clitoris flawlessly, she had definitely played with herself before and, like me, found this a surprisingly good chance to reach with a tongue where one couldn't with oneself. I was glad I chose her. We stayed in that position for so long, many orgasms rocking my body, that her mother at some point knocked on the door and asked us to get out from under it. That sensation, the sensation of being caught while so many orgasms ravaged my body, triggered something that had never happened before. Before she could answer, I came so hard that I had to bite my lip to keep quiet, biting her clitoris at the same time. She didn't scream though, as a fluid, thick and transparent came out of me in a strange wave of pleasure and filled her mouth. It was a feeling I'd never felt before. The mother knocked again as I came to, noting that my lip was bleeding a little and I could see the teeth-marks on her sensitive no-longer-innocent little button. As the one below me was still fighting for breath, I had to force myself to say, in a fierce attempt to sound casual that we'd be right out.
The mother left, the girl was coughing a little with my fluid coming out from her mouth. I felt some shame, some guilt but mostly confusion and curiosity. I had to find out what this was. Not that we had the time for that. The towel was soaked on her end and she was still wiping her face clean of it. She didn't seem angry but just as confused and curious as I was. Asking her how it tasted got the predictable reply of her kissing me firmly on my lips, it was different from my normal wetness but also not too unpleasant. A taste that just screamed lust. Apparently, she'd had her share of orgasms as well and enjoyed this experience quite a lot, despite the drowned ending. We showered really quickly and cleaned up the floor, trying not to make it known what happened. With some clarity of mind, she actually washed the towel a little so it would just be wet, but not sticky with my fluid.
She became my best friend, sharing my bed (and shower or other intimate places) various times but I never shared her with a boy. We kept it hidden from the world and I was well aware of her escapades with other guys. I kept her mostly unaware of my own lustful adventures and the toys I all too often used. My time with her was always very erotic and exciting, though she only made me explode like that first time only twice in the three years that we were together. Her family moved away, for work-related reasons fortunately, and I lost contact. It was for the better, by the time she was leaving, my body was already having trouble obtaining an orgasm with someone else. She was starting to feel guilty that I was able to make her cum so much more easily than she me. Or rather, it was easy to make myself cum, but to feel fulfilled, to orgasm properly, I needed sex. And for sex, I kept needing more excitement, more tension, fear, lust, joy.
The first time I found that excitement again, when I killed a guy, was mostly an accident. Mostly.