I won a generous scholarship from the United Christian Youth League during my senior year in high school. It was merit based, and I won it on the basis of my grades and standardized test scores. I also had to write an essay. I wrote about the sins and immorality of homosexuality, which, when I look back at it, is pretty ironic.
My mother wanted me to take the money and go to a nice Christian school like Oral Roberts or Bobby Jones University, but I really wanted to go the Wellesley. Mother were skeptical of the school’s liberal ethos at first, but ultimately relented. Wellesley gave me a generous financial aid package and, when combined with my scholarship, my parents would incur almost no out of pocket expense. Furthermore, My mother was delighted that Wellesley was an all women’s college. She figured it easier for me to protect my chastity if these were no boys around.
I needed pocket money, so that summer I got a job at a Christian Youth Camp where I could help spread the gospel to younger teenagers while surrounded by the natural rustic beauty of God’s creation. As camp counselors we were to model good Christian behavior to youngsters. However, the truth of the matter is that 18-year-old Christians are just as horny as 18-year-old non-Christians, and all the camp counselors were either fooling around or otherwise fucking one another.
Boy counselors had to stay in a dormer with rows of bunk beds. Girls stayed in two person cabins. If you were lucky enough to have a roommate get caught holding a beer or with her panties down, you’d get the place all to yourself.
The girl counselors were lectured about the importance of modesty. From what I heard, the boys received no such lecture and were free to wander the dormer with their dicks hanging out.
I had this roommate, Sarah, who, at the time, was the coolest person I had ever met. She had platinum blond hair and big boobs. Her eyebrows matched her hair color, and I wondered if she had a very expensive and detailed dye job or if platinum blond was her natural hair color. Sarah was not a modest person, and I found out the first night, as we got undressed for bed, that she was a natural blonde as her carpet matched her curtains. Even though I hadn’t quite yet admitted to myself that I was a lesbian, deep down I knew that Sarah’s white downy bush was among the best of all of God’s creations. She had broad and dark brown areolas, which contrasted greatly with her normal lack of skin pigmentation everywhere else on her body. At night, with the lights off, you could tell if she was naked unless it was a new moon and the clouds blocked the stars. I always went to bed a little sad those nights.
We counselors placed enormous pressure on one other to find a fellow counselor of the opposite sex with whom to “go out.” Of course, the term “going out” was a bit of a misnomer because we were in the middle of the woods with no true destination to where one could go out. Though, I guess, one could “go out” to fuck in the bushes.
I very much wanted to fit in, but I knew very little about boys. Sarah, however, had a lot of experience and informed me that one of the skinnier boys, Jeffrey, had a crush on me. I remember thinking Jeffrey was kind of cute, but, in retrospect, I know I only found him tolerable because his body was effeminate and his face girly looking. After we put the younger kids to bed, Jeffrey and I would find a not so subtle place to make out, that way another counselor would “accidently” discover us and tell everyone else what they saw. The arrangement worked out pretty well at first. Having a girl friend made Jeffrey feel manlier, and kissing Jeffrey allowed me to continue to pretend that I was not a lesbian.
I knew Jeffrey wanted more, so I let him feel up my tits. For groping, we went some place truly private. I didn’t like it much. At the time I thought it was because Jeffrey’s hands were always cold, but I now know that it was because Jeffrey was a boy.
The problem with boys is that if you give them an inch they try to take a mile. Jeffrey got a little more aggressive and insisted I let him such my tits. I let him, and he was terrible at it. His teeth would chafe against my nipples, leaving me sore for days. After a few weeks of nipple torture, Jeffrey flat out asked for sex. He said it would make the summer more special and implied I owed it to him because I made him so horny.
I asked Sarah what to do. She told me she had plenty of condoms in various colors, shapes, sizes, and textures and that I should simply pick one out. When I told her I didn’t want Jeffrey’s penis inside me, she said, rather nonchalantly, “Okay then, just suck his dick.”
I knew very little about oral sex back then. I actually thought a blowjob meant pursing your lips around some guy’s dick and forcing air out your lungs as if you were inflating a balloon. I had no idea where the air went. Sarah thought this was hilarious and couldn’t stop laughing. I was completely humiliated.
Eventually Sarah regained her composure and informed me that, because we were good friends, she was going to show me how to blow a guy. She rummaged through her things and produced a compact travel vibrator. She kept it turned off for the tutorial.
“The key to a giving a good blowjob,” she explained, “is to change things up frequently. You don’t just want to put the guys cock in your mouth and move your head back and forth.” She demonstrated on the vibrator. “You want to take it out of your mouth periodically and give it a good jerk with your hand. This creates different sensations for him and gives you a chance to rest your jaw if his dick is really big. If you want, when you are jerking him, you can suck his balls. Guys like that sort of thing, and it’s kind of fun if his sack isn’t too hairy. Also, don’t just focus on sucking and jerking. You need to do a fair amount of licking. The two best places to lick are the underside of his dick just before the head and the ridge of his dick head on the opposite side. If you remember these tips, you’ll have him cumming in no time.”
Sarah had me practice a few times on her vibrator. It had a peculiar odor that I found it quite pleasing. When Sarah was satisfied that I had the basics down, she pushed me out of the cabin and told me to find Jeffrey and suck his dick.
Jeffrey was definitely on the small side, noticeably smaller than Sarah’s compact travel vibrator. He was at most four inches long and probably only three around. He hardly had any pubic hair and his balls were tiny. I wonder, now, if he had some sort of hormonal imbalance. His little dick got as hard as a rock the instant I unzipped his fly and took it out of his pants. I did everything Sarah had instructed. I sucked his dick. I jerked it with my hand. I licked his smooth small ball sack. I remember thinking that his pre-cum tasted disgusting, and I worried that I might vomit were he to blow his load in my mouth. Fortunately, Jeffrey came while I was licking his undersurface right below his pokey little dick head. He didn’t produce much of a load, just a few cum drops. One got on my cheek and the rest stained his dark slacks.
I remember feeling somewhat ambivalent on my solo walk back to the cabin. The experience wasn’t sexually gratifying in the least. If anything, I felt a little grossed out. However, I was rather pleased with myself for mastering a new skill so quickly. I had mastered dick sucking in under an hour. I had appeased my inner overachiever, the same part of me that would later earn me a doctorate with less than three years of study.
Back at the cabin, Sarah was getting ready for bed. She had her tits out and was wearing nothing but tight black panties.
“How did the cock gobbling go?”
I told her I made Jeffrey cum pretty quickly.
“Did he have a big dick?”
I gestured with my fingers to demonstrate his length and girth.
“Wow! That’s pretty small.”
“I know, right.”
“Did you swallow his cum?”
“No,” I said, “does it taste really gross?”
“It’s not terrible, kind of like salty grapefruit.”
“I hate grapefruit.”
“Did he go down on you?”
“You mean like oral?”
“Uh huh.”
“No.”
“Did he finger you?”
“No.”
“Then you must be really frustrated.”
I was, but not because of Jeffrey. I nodded.
“Then you should get yourself off. That’s what I would do.” Sarah said.
“You mean like masturbate?”
“I prefer the term ‘flicking the bean.'”
I laughed. It was a funny term.
“You don’t masturbate do you?” She asked.
“No.”
“Well you should.”
“Why?”
“So you can have an orgasm.”
“I bet they are overrated.”
“Oh they are not! Wait, you mean you have never had an orgasm?”
“No.”
“Well you need to get one.”
“How?”
“By flicking the bean.”
“That sees weird to me.”
“Well it’s not.”
“I don’t know how.”
“I’ll walk you through it.”
“Ok, what do I do?”
“Take off all your clothes.”
I’ve been partially naked in front of Sarah before, so stripping completely didn’t feel too awkward.
“You have a good body.” Sarah said.
“Thanks,” I said, “but not as nice as yours.”
“Why would you say that? Have you seen your tummy, your legs, your ass?”
“Your boobs are much bigger.”
“True, but yours are nice and perky. What are you, a B cup?”
“Uh huh.”
“They’re nice. It’s not just about size you know.”
When Sarah was done checking me out, I asked her what to do next.
“Lie down in bed.”
“Okay.”
“No, on your back.”
“Like this?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to watch me?” I asked sheepishly.
“You can get under a blanket if you’re embarrassed.”
“Okay.”
“Good, are you nice and comfy now?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, bend your knees.”
“Like this?”
“Yes, but not so much. That’s good right there. Okay now reach down and start by running your fingers up and down your bush. Do it lightly. How’s that?”
“It tickles a bit.”
“Good, are you getting wet?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Stick a finger in your gash.”
“Okay.”
“Wet?”
“No.”
“Stroke some more, nice and gently up and down. How about now? Are you wet?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Okay then, find your clit.”
“How?”
“Move up, it’s the most sensitive bit.”
“Found it.”
“You like it.”
“A little.”
“I think you need to relax a bit.”
“I can’t.”
“Then let me help.”
Sarah pulled the covers off me, and before I could cover myself with my hands, she rolled into bed next to me, on her side. Her face was inches away from mine, and I could taste sweet her breath. She stuck a finger in my girlie parts and said, “Wow, you really are dry down there.”
“I know.”
She put two fingers in her mouth. It was unbelievably sexy. I felt my juices flowing before she stuck them back into my pussy.
“Be careful,” I pleaded.
“Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you. I’ve done this before.”
“On yourself.”
“Yes, and on other girls too.”
“Really?”
Sarah nodded. “Wow, you really are getting wet.”
“Now what?”
“Lie back and relax. I’ll take it from here.”
Sarah took her fingers out of me and started rubbing my clit. Slick from my sex juice, they glided over me ever so lightly. I moaned, involuntarily.
“You like that, don’t you?”
“Uh huh.”
Sarah picked up the tempo. Tension built up in my legs and they started to twitch. Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed Sarah’s nice large firm tit, the one that was closest.
“You can do that” She said, “Just don’t squeeze so hard, okay.”
Between the twitching and the squealing, I couldn’t vocalize any coherent words, so I nodded and loosened my grip.
Sarah stuck her two stinky fingers back inside me and started thrusting back and forth. My moans got louder. I’m sure the entire camp could hear me. The tension moved up, and I started bucking around. A type of spasm took me and I arched my back. I was almost there, but I didn’t want to cum yet. There was something I desperately wanted to do first. I slid my other hand down Sarah’s dark panties. I felt her mound and nice soft pubic hair. My neck and shoulders twitched. Sarah thrusted faster. I pushed my hand further down her panties, and felt the contours of her hairy outer pussy lips. I wanted so badly to feel her wetness, but it was too late. Sarah brought me over the top. My arms shook. I could no longer control them. A warm tingling sensation seized my entire body. My vision went black, and I heard someone scream. For a second I passed out. When I came to, Sarah was standing over me, grinning.
“That was quite an orgasm,” she said. “I think you woke up the entire camp.”
I nodded feebly. My sheets were wet, which puzzled me.
“Did I piss myself?”
“No, you squirted when you came.”
“That’s not pissing?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve heard about it before, but I’ve never seen it until just now.” Sarah sniffed her fingers. “Doesn’t smell like piss.”
“I stay well hydrated.”
“Here you smell.” She thrust her two fingers in my face. I didn’t smell urine, just my own pussy. I liked it.
“My sheets are really wet.”
“You should hang them up.”
“Can I borrow your sleeping bag.”
“You can, or you can sleep in bed with me if you want.”
“I’d like that.”
“I know. I knew it the instant we met.”
“But how?”
“I could tell by the way you were looking at me.”
“Oh.”
Sarah let me curl up next to her, and I drifted off to sleep. For the first time in my life, I felt truly at ease, like I finally knew myself. Sarah and I lost touch after camp, but I kind of knew that would happen. Sarah was just too pretty and popular to permit the harsh bond of a long distance relationship.
I quit going to church, but I kept my scholarship from the United Christian Youth League. From my point of view, they owed me reparations for trying to get me to hate myself the previous eighteen years.
I studied hard in Wellesley. There were many lesbians there, and I rarely went to bed lonely. I came out to my parents after graduation. My mother broke off contact with me. My father divorced my mother shortly afterwards. He explained he would always love me and that he only ever went to church to make my mother happy. We currently have a very good relationship. He is kind and respectful to the women I bring home.
After Wellesley, I studied neuropsychology at Harvard. I wrote my dissertation about the neurodevelopment of sexuality and gender identity. As the forward, I included the hateful, homophobic essay I wrote to win my scholarship from the United Christian Youth League. I received applause at my defense.