Tyke 2 Dyke (Part 1)

I don’t know if seeing my first pussy made me gay, or I was born that way, and I just never felt different. #Slow #Long

I was always a girly girl, I never even wanted to put on overalls, boxer shorts, and cut my hair like a dyke. I know, a lot of those are stereotypes for “Butch,” but that ain’t me. So, maybe that’s why I never felt “Different.”

A lot of wymyn, and gay men say that, they “Always felt different,” but not me. I went through a fairly normal childhood until I was almost 11. I was a late bloomer, so I hadn’t gotten my period yet, and then we went swimming as a family.

Me, my mom, and big sister went in the ladies’ room, while dad took the boys in the boys’ room. We changed, and went out to swim all day. Just like any other summer weekend, where we went to the pool as a family. Then, we got out, and dried off. Mommy took us back to the changing room, and of course there were other girls there with their mothers, or at least older sisters, but nobody went alone.

They didn’t have a Lifeguard, for one thing so you could drown. I pulled down my swimsuit, and set down on the bench down the middle. In between the lockers, and then I saw her. I’m not going to say that it was love at first sight, she was pretty but most girls that age are, unless there’s something wrong with them. I’m even going to say “Cute,” except for the gap in her smile, so maybe 7, or 8?

Still young enough to believe in the tooth fairy, but she bent over, then stood up to kick off her clothes, and get out her swimsuit. I never even looked at my privates before, because they’re down there, and just for peeing up to that point. I stared because she had a little wrinkle. It looked like a crumb of pink skin, crumpled up in the top of her pale pussy lips, and that made me tingle.

“Uh!” Mom made me go wash off the pool water in the shower, so I stood up, and kicked off my swimsuit. Went to explore where the tingle came from in the shower, and that’s how I discovered my tiny clitoris. It wasn’t even that big, and with the benefit of experience, I’m pretty sure I just saw her clit-hood. It was just bunched up enough to peek out of her puffy pre-pube pussy, and make me wonder.

What is that? Why don’t I have one of those? Until I felt it tingle. Wake up, with pins and needles like I’d sat on it, and it fell asleep for the first 10 years, or so. Mom came to get me, “We have to go home, so dry off. The boys are waiting.”

“Okay, mom.” She stuck a towel in the shower curtain, so I could dry off, and put it on like a dress. I forgot all about it, honestly. Until I woke up one morning, and I felt another tingle. This time it was my nipple, just 1 nipple. I asked my sister about it when she woke up, but I was afraid to touch it.

After I found my clit, and it was so sensitive, it almost hurt to touch it directly, but she called it “Growing pains.” She got up, and sat with me in her nighty, but without a bra on. I kept my head down, but I stared sideways out the corner of my eye. I never looked at her incestuously. She’s my sister, but I couldn’t help noticing how the light silky fabric draped over her nipple, and it stood out on her perky B cup.

She told me what to expect, most of it stuff I already saw her go through. Like having to shave her legs, and under her arms, but she just trimmed around the bikini line for swimsuit season. It must’ve been out of season, because when she got up to change, I saw how hairy, and overgrown she let her muff get, and also, she put on long sleeves. A long skirt, and underwear.

Finally, she left, so I could lay back in bed, and learn how to play with myself. Without touching it directly, because it was still too tiny, and sensitive, but I found the roots easily. Without any hair in the way, she didn’t even talk about my clit. Let alone how far it spreads up my pubic bone, but I found that out, immediately.

I felt around to see if I had any hairs growing, but that made the fan of sensitive tissue pull my tiny tip inside the hood, and even swell a little. Still too little to touch, even through the hood, but I kept rubbing my mons until the tingles built up into sparks, then jolts of lightning leaping up my body, and dancing between my nipples.

“Oh! Uh! Huh?” Finally I could breathe, when for the longest time, it felt like my little womb was trying to suck the air right out of my lungs, but then the tingles slowly faded, and I felt so good, I guess I drifted off again.

Mom was pissed that I slept in, on a school day, and I hadn’t even taken off my night gown. Just my panties, but I kicked them off under the covers before I got up. Got dressed, and she took me to school. Scolding me for making her late for work, so I just hung my head, and said “Sorry.”

Then, I got to school, where I didn’t have to act sorry any more, and I was so happy that the girls noticed right away. I was late for class, so they had to wait for recess, but then they cornered me, and asked me what I was so happy about?

I was a little embarrassed, because I never was the center of attention before, they’re all girls, and all my friends, so I liked them. I got tongue tied, and flushed, but finally I asked them if they ever played with themselves?

“Oh, no.” Some of them made faces, and said stuff like “Ew gross,” but after they left. There were 2 girls, that were curious enough to ask: “What’s it like?”

“It’s amazing, it feels like love, but then when it washes over you, it’s like.” I stopped, and shook my head. “Huh! Nothing I ever felt before.”

“Oohooh! You’re in love.”

“Yeah, who is He?”

“Oh, no.” I got tongue tied again, but then I thought of a good way to put it. “I don’t think about any Boy, in particular.” Which is true, because I was mostly thinking about that girl I saw. I didn’t know her, let alone her name, but she was young, and little. Too young, and too little, so I felt a little guilty about even looking. Let alone getting off on the image burned into my eyelids of her little wrinkles peeking out of her prepube pussy.

So, I started masturbating in bed, to fall asleep, and dream about my friends, mostly. In 6th grade, we’re all the oldest girls in school, and most of them started puberty before me. So, they looked older and more developed through their clothes, or sometimes in bras, and panties when we changed together, but I had to imagine them naked.

There laughter echoing in the trees, and playing a childish game of sexy tag, because I knew who I wanted, but I had no idea what to do if I caught them. So, I was always it, and they were always tantalizing me. Just out of reach, but their hair swung, and blew in the breeze. Their little breasts, and buttocks bouncing, their long skinny legs swinging like scissors, but between them, there was nothing.

Not like Barbie doll, my mind just teased me with almost glimpses, before they turned away, and ran away, laughing. Just out of reach, but then my sister made me do that before bed. So she could go to sleep, and I had to masturbate in the bathroom so I didn’t keep her up. When I finished, and came back still glowing, she was already asleep. Snoring, but I never minded that sound.

I grew up with it, and fell asleep to her breathing. So when she wasn’t there for some reason, I even missed it. Until I started masturbating, so I was just happy to have the room to myself. I could even get up, and turn on the light to look at myself in the mirror. “Hm,” my body, because I wanted to imagine another girl playing with herself, and looking at me. Playing with myself, and looking at her body.

That went on until the end of the year, so I must have turned 11 before I heard the word “Dykes.” We’re playing at the park, and one of my friends pointed. “Look at those dirty dykes.”

They were just hanging out, and smoking in the corner, but another friend of mine bet her they were “Pussy licking lezzies,” and that got my attention. For some reason, I never even imagined kissing a girl down there, or having her go down on me. Just kissing my mirror, and imagining “Her” hands reaching through the mirror to touch me. Feel me up all over my body, and fingering me to a breathless orgasm when my sister wasn’t there, so I had the room to myself.

“You know, that’s why they cut there hair like that, and spike it up?” One pulled her hair up between her hands.

So, I asked her, “No, why?” I had no idea any of my friends new anything more then me about gay girls, since they didn’t even know I was gay, and being gay, you just assume you know everything, and straight girls are just oblivious.

“So it doesn’t tickle them with there heads between there legs.”

“Oh,” that made sense.

“I heard it’s so they have something to hold onto.” My other friend grabbed some imaginary spikes, and humped the air, making raunchy “Uh uh uh!” Noises.

“Ew, gross. Sick nympho.”

“I’m not a nympho, I’m just saying,” but they changed subject, talked about other stuff I tuned out, until they got bored, and wandered off. Left me alone, so I could go over, and try to hang out with the “Dykes.”

Or so I thought, they turned out to be into punk rock, because there boyfriends were punk rockers, and then they showed up. So I had to go home, and start thinking about them. They’re older, and they dressed so messed up, it confused me.

I asked them about why they cut their hair like this, and pulled mine up in a fauxhawk, but they just laughed, and told me “It’s a protest, against the man’s fashion,” or some such nonsense. “Stupid standards of beauty.” So, they made themselves ugly on purpose to attract punk rockers that like those kinds of girls, instead of pretty ones for some reason.

I didn’t really get it, but at the same time, there skirts, and pants (They wore mini-skirts over pants) were ripped up. So I could see there hairy legs, and they said that was “Just another stupid normie thing normies do to make girly girls like you behave.”

So, I asked my sister why she shaves her legs, and she said “It’s hot, it’s summer, and I get sweaty with all that hair on summer.”

“Oh,” she shaved them all year round, and her pits too, but she still grew her muff out on winter. Mostly, because it’s a bitch to trim, when there’s no reason to until she got a boyfriend. I noticed when she came in late, and got ready for bed. When she pulled off her undies, she was shaved completely. Everything from her eyelashes down, but then she sat in front of the dresser to get out the Noxema, and take off her makeup.

I giggled, “You shaved your pubes.”

She grinned, and giggled, but she finished wiping off her face before she came over to my bed naked. She sat down, and leaned over to tell me, she had a date. She kept her voice down, even though our room was way out over the garage, so no one could hear us. Unless one of the boys came all the way down the hall to listen at our door, but a long story short. She got fingerbanged, and a “Turkey Dinner.”

“A what?”

Then, she put her hand up, like a boy miming the jerkoff sign, only in front of her mouth, and she said “Gobble gobble gobble!” Until we both started laughing.

“Ew, like a turkey neck?”

“With gravy!”

“Ewhoohuhahehin!” I just shook my head, because we had brothers. Okay? I’m not one of those “Never even seen a dick before” lesbians. I knew what a penis was, and what it’s for. How it works, and where babies come from, by then. I just don’t particularly want one, you know? I’m gay, and those things come with boys stuck to them.

Also, they’re my brothers, so it’s like my sister sitting naked with me on my bed. Other than sympathetically looking at her nipple, when mine started tingling, and masturbating for the first time. There’s never been anything incestuous between us, even before I found out she was straight.

“Wait, he just fingerblasted you?” She nodded. “He didn’t even eat you out, but he made you give him head?”

“No, he didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want.”

“But you didn’t even want him to give you oral sex back?”

“You know, you’re right? Next time I’m going to make him go down on me, before I go down on him.”

“Good, but you know you can 69 him instead.”

“Oh, no. He’s too tall for that.”

“Oh,” that’s another thing that sucks about boys. They’re too tall, so you have to take turns giving oral sex, but with 2 girls. You can kiss each other, rub your bodies together, and even switch around to 69 each other at the same time. So, nobody has to lean down, and put your head up just to kiss each other. Also, they’re too flat. Even the muscle hunks with muscles on there chests. Okay, they’re not bony, so you end up washboarding your nipples on there ribs. I guess, but still. It’s not like hugging another girl, bra to bra, and feeling our breasts press together.

So, for once she kept me up playing the fiddle, while I was turned off by all this straight boy girl sex. Especially the “Turkey neck.” Ew, I don’t even want to think about the gravy, and another thing that’s great about girls is they can’t get you pregnant.

So, I had a nightmare about a headless turkey, chasing me around naked, making “Gobble Gobble” noises with it’s feathers plucked so it was bumpy all over like a scrotum. Oh yeah, I’d seen boys’ scrotums before, in pictures. My friends, some of them found their daddy’s stashes, and giggled over pictures, but of course they’re all mainstream porn. So, either naked ladies barely showing bush. Which I liked, or naked couples with the guy standing up, and his penis sticking out like a turkey neck and his balls hanging down between his legs.

I just never noticed how it looked like turkey skin, only hairy before.

;

Liza (fG Bi/Lesbian)

I know, you’re probably here for the hot girl on girl action. Sorry for the wait, but if it’s any consolation, I had to wait for Years, before I found another girl to get stinky with.

You know that girl, in middle school, that told everyone she’s bisexual to get boys? Well, Joan never tried to get me in a threesome with her boyfriend, she didn’t even date boys while we’re going out. Because she’s also monogamous, and I know that’s confusing to some people, but there’s still always that irrational fear in the back of my mind.

This isn’t about Biphobia, so I heard about her. Because she was in 8th grade, and I just started 7th, she had the other lunch. Then, my friends talked about her after school, but they weren’t sapphobic, because they weren’t afraid of her hitting on them.

“Ugh, look at her, taking all the good boys.”

“Well, she’s a teenager, so they just like her, because they’re teenagers.” I pointed out, defending her. I figured she was out of my league anyway, because she was a teenager. Yeah, it’s just one year, but in middle school, that one year was the most important one in our lives so far.

“She doesn’t even have a great body, it’s just because she promised them threesomes.”

“Ooh, I can just imagine those 2. Darry, and Kevy?” Darrel, and Kevin. For some reason, she was still stuck in 4th grade, where she started calling people cutesy names like that.

So, they started fantasizing which one was on top, and which one on the bottom, but not in a gay top/bottom kinda way. They worked out, with a notebook, and mechanical pencil that the best way for a girl to do 2 boys at once is one laying down, while the other one stood up, in front of her.

That was girl porn, in middle school. Yeah, we had penthouses, and playboys too, or our fathers did, some of them. I was still stuck with the JC Penny bra, and panty section. Someone even drew the exact same thing on the bathroom door, for straight girls to look at, and fap to on the toilet. I didn’t dare draw what I imagined, but I didn’t have to. I just closed my eyes, and imagined her hairy thighs closing over my ears to shut out everything but her sex, smothering me.

Who she was varied night to night, but it was always one of my friends. Whichever one maybe hinted that she might be a little bi-curious, because all the girls I knew were depressingly straight. So, even when they drew a girl having sex, say with 2 guys, she was always sideways, and covered up her breasts. They all had pages buried in the pockets of their binders, folded up tight to hide their deepest desires, but the really talented one obviously spent extra time on the boy’s face.

So, Kevin ended up on the bottom, and she turned the paper sideways on her lap. Looking up at Kevin standing next to Joan, and talking to her. Then, she turned it back, and drew Darrel in profile. On the other side, talking to Joan while she looked back and forth, nodding, and smiling. Having a great time after school, and holding her books up tight over her chest.

Yeah, right. “She doesn’t even have a great body,” if you never looked at her. It wasn’t just her bra pressed tight by the books, so they bulged out in front of her arms. She pushed the dress code to the limit, and this one afternoon, she had a belt on. Up high, so it pulled tight around her waist, and showed off her hips. Held her skirt up above her knees, so you got to see a little extra leg, and even a flash of panties when she sat down, before she crossed them.

She was hot, and horny, a nympho, and bicurious. I just have to say that, yeah she told everyone she was bisexual, but really she heard the boys say that bi-girls were hot. She never promised threesomes, but you don’t have to. That’s what makes bi chix hot. The fantasy of 1 boy with 2 bi girls for an MMF 3sum.

I tried it, not with her, but another girl in high school. She was closeted, so she dated a boy for a beard, and strung him along. “Saving herself for marriage,” so she dated Christian boys, then she came out as bi, and they took me out on a date. Got me drunk enough to have sex with her, while her boyfriend watched, and beat off, but I didn’t have to look at him. She was gay, but her mom, and dad hung a big cross on her closet door, so she was in denial until she slept with me.

Oh yeah, Joan. Finally, she got sick of us talking about her after school, and snuck up behind us. Leaned up against the fence, she shook it to make us jump. “Hey girls!”

“Where’s your boyfriends?”

“I don’t know, I told them to fuck off, or each other, whatever.” She leaned over, and grinned, with her hands up, and looked around, to whisper. ‘they’re not really my boyfriends,’ she stood up, “But don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“You should tell them that,” I pointed out that they sure seemed to think so.

“Oh!” My friends whined, “They’re gay, I knew they were too good to be true.”

“Oh, no. Ha! They’re not gay.” She pointed, “You guessed right.” She looked down, and grinned. “I like your nails.”

“Oh,” I hid them behind my back. Even though I cut, and polished them carefully for fingering, and painted each one a color of the rainbow, except purple. I had purple nail polish, I just started with red, orange, yellow, green, and blue then ran out of fingers.

“Oh, you’re gay, so you just told everyone you’re bi, so they won’t know you’re a lezzy.”

“No, I’m bi. Pretty sure.” She nodded, but looked back at me when she said Lezzy, then Bi.

I nodded at Lezzy.

“I’m just a virgin.”

“Really, how does that work?”

“It doesn’t, I’m 13? Everyone’s a virgin in middle school, and if they say any different they’re lying.”

“Or they got molested.”

“Or raped.” My friend shook her head, “Does it count against your virginity if you’re only molested?”

“She’s asking for a friend.” I lied, because they’re our friends, and even though Joan was the coolest girl in school, at least to me because I was drooling at both ends for her, she’s still not Our friend. So, we have to keep Our secrets from her, but yeah. I knew a girl, that was molested. Chances are you did too, even if she didn’t talk about it, because he told her to keep their little secret.

Well, girls talk, but we also keep each other’s secrets. Speaking of which, the very next day, she slipped a note in my locker. I still have it if you want me to transcribe it, but it was awkward, badly speled, and full of run-on sentences. A fairly typical middle-school crush letter, but it was my first. So, I hugged it, read it again and again, tucked it in the middle of my bra so it could be close to my heart in class, it’s pathetic.

I don’t know where she got my name from, nobody ever said it, let alone what locker was mine. I didn’t look out for her in the halls, so if she followed me, I didn’t notice, but she spelled my name right. E.L.I.Z.A in red, orange, yellow, green, and blue colored pencil. It was also really sweet, but a long story short. She said she liked me, and she wanted to meet me after school. She was waiting for me around the corner, and she took my hand to lead me off to a girl’s room to molest me.

Right off the bat, she didn’t waste any time. She practically pushed me into the handicap stall, and pulled the door. I turned around, but she turned me back the other way, and hugged me. “Huh! You’re so hot,” she kissed my ear, and down my neck. Felt down my body, and didn’t stop on my bra cups, but then I noticed that she took her’s off.

I didn’t look at her chest, she barely gave me a chance, but she changed after school, every day. Just barely met the Dress Code, but as soon as the bell rang, the skirts came up above her knees, her belt tight around her waist, and she took her bra off, so they bulged out the sides of her top.

Instead, she pulled out my top, and stuck her hands up it to pull out my bra. Stuck her fingers in it so it popped up, and I desperately pulled up my skirt to get my hands in there. One down to feel my hole until it started leaking, the other one up, to push my button out so it swelled, and stretched the hood tight around my hard-in.

“Uh!” She let go, and crossed one arm over, to cradle my boob in her elbow, and cup the other one in her hand. Rubbing the nipple with her thumb, while her other hand went down between my arms to move my hands out of the way.

“Huh, you’re rough.” She felt my stubble. “You shaved it, or you just trim it that short?”

“Uh?” I blinked, and shook my head, to get my brain going again. It just shut down when all the blood rushed out of my head to my heart, and all points south. “I shaved it off for summer, but I’m growing it out before winter, why?”

“It just feels a little weird.” she shrugged up against me, then started rubbing my roughly with her wrist. Her fingers between my legs, I crossed my knees, and one slipped in to get wet, and slick up. And down, she went back and forth between my honey pot, and my wrinkles to get them good and wet, then she plunged a finger in and out, then 2 of them when I loosened up enough, and then she pinched my folds to let them slip between her fingers before she dipped back down, and inside me.

“Oh, oH! OH! Yes, ohhhh. Yeah. Ohhhhh!” I couldn’t take it any longer, and we wound up on the floor. Bent over the toilet seat, I bet my knees gave out, and she couldn’t hold me up, but she let me down slowly enough that I couldn’t feel myself falling.

“Huh!” Just overwhelmed by all the pleasure, feelings, and relief from years, and years of waiting. Finally, I lost my virginity, but she left me with the door unlocked, and washed her hands in the sink until I caught my breath.

She was pulling her hair back with wet fingers on the sides, to tie back her hair in a loose fauxhawk. When I fixed up my underwear, and brushed off my knees. I didn’t spend long on them, but they picked up a little dirt tracked in from the outside. Since they were the PE restrooms, over between the Baseball diamond, and the track and field.

“Huh, that was amazing,” I hugged her from behind, and wished I had heels high enough to get my head over her shoulder to kiss her neck, but I tried to feel her up the way she did. Honestly, the way she masturbates, since it’s the only way she knew how to have sex with a girl, but she was a year older, and she started even earlier, because she wasn’t such a late bloomer.

“Huh, we better get out of here, before someone comes in, and catches us together.” She pulled my hands off, but I told her “You look great, with your hair up like that.”

Butch, but not too butch? I hadn’t figured this out myself, but I had decided that those punk-rock girls were too much. I like girls, and they don’t have to be girly girl girls like me, but there’s some butch I like, and then there’s just too much. We went out, and she invited me over to her house for desert. She shaved it all off, and I like hairy girls, or hairless girls.

I’m not a pedophile, I honestly never looked at another little girl after the first, but I wasn’t much more developed than her myself. At the time, I had all my adult teeth, and I was a little taller, but that was about it. I like tits. I like my tits, and I loved her’s too, but as far as how butch is too butch, that’s your business. I don’t have to fuck you, just because we’re both gay.

I’m not going to fat shame heavy lezzes, or muscle shame body builders, I just know what I like. That aint it, and on the way home, we talked about that, too.

“Oh, no. If I want a guy, I can get a guy. If I want a girl, I prefer them to be pretty, and feminine like you. I like skirts, and the butchy butches just try too hard to be guys.”

“Huh, yeah. I guess, but not really? I mean, it’s hard enough to find other gay, and bisexual girls, so I bet a lot of them just make it easier. You think she’s gay?”

“Who?”

“I mean the butchy butches.” I giggled, “That’s perfect, but when you see a big old biker dyke on a motorcycle, with a labrys tattoo, and [If You Can Read This The Bitch Fell Off] embroidered on her teeshirt.”

“You’re really talking about a real person?”

“Oh yeah, I saw her filling up at a gas station, and she even smiled at me, so her gaydar must be strong.”

“Takes one to know one, huh?”

“Yeah, but she was greasy, and sweaty from the road, and gasoline is a turnoff for me.”

“I doubt that’s a turnon for anyone.”

“Hayeah, you’d think that, but honestly, there’s somebody for everyone. The trick is finding the one you match their tastes.”

“Well, I like this.” She took my hand, and held it up, to see my fingernails. “Your homophobe friends never noticed this?”

“Oh, no. They’re not homophobic.” Yeah, right. “There just ignorant, and it’s not as if gays invented the rainbow. I just put little eSes on them, and ate Skittles until they thought that’s why I like them like this.”

“Oh, ha!” She laughed like that. Just one Ha, and I loved it until it got annoying, because I got to know her well enough to tell that’s her fake laugh. Then, we got to her house, and she told me to “Straighten up” until she got me in her room. Then, we took off each other’s clothes, because that’s something I always wanted to do, and I found out she took off her underpants, too.

She was dry as a bone, but she lay me down on her bed, and sat on my face. No hair down there, but she was a Neet girl that dissolved it all away with depilatory foam. Then, she lifted me up to stick her heels under my shoulders. So I didn’t have to hold my head up, and I started learning how to eat a girl out. I thought it would be a lot easier, but I guess trying to imagine your fingertip is a tongue doesn’t mean your tongue is going to work the same way when you can’t feel what it’s doing because it’s not your puss, but she was patient with me, and I wasn’t going to stop until we had to.

Sure enough, she was a virgin, and I tried to memorize the holes in her hymen like reading braille with my tongue. Then, her mother came back, and knocked on the door. “Hello?” She stopped holding my ears, so I could hear. “If she’s not dressed, tell your girlfriend she has to go home, and get ready for dinner.”

“Okay mom.” She looked down, and sat on my breasts. I silently mouthed ‘she knows?’ She shrugged, and nodded, then helped me up. I put my clothes on, and called my mom, but her’s didn’t say anything. “Can you give me a ride home?”

She made a face, and shook her head, so I held the phone up. “Well, she doesn’t know how to get here.” I ran out, and waited on the porch, ashamed and disgusted, because of the way her mom looked at me. It made me feel like a dirty dyke, and all the things my homophobe friends said about them made me cry, but I wiped my tears before my mom pulled up.

“Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, Joan. She’s an 8th grader, but she doesn’t hold it against me, just because I’m 12.” Bla bla bla, yadda yadda. I lied to her for years, or tried to. My sister too as if they don’t know me that well. I guess I didn’t hide it that well either, but it turns out I was always my straight friends’ gay friend. “I don’t want to sound lesbophobic, one of my best friends is a dirty carpet munching dyke.”

That’s why they started talking about it around me, almost as soon as I was starting to realize it myself. The wicked bitches.

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