*thanks for the patience as i finished my last semester <3 no sex (sorry) but a lot of flirting*
It's kind of a bummer to hear that they have a girlfriend. Actually, it's quite devastating. I lock myself away in my room for most of Thursday and all of Friday. Truly, this bummed me out. Worst of all is that I just know that they would use the strap so, so good, but it felt inappropriate to fantasize about someone who's taken.
Besides, it wasn't good for moving on. So instead of them, I thought of...another blonde-ish butch bringing me to an eye rolling orgasm. Whatever. It got the job done.
But tonight will be better.
I had heard whispers and rumors of an all-gay party. I think we all doubted it would happen, most of all me. I mean, of course it wouldn't happen at the precise time that I needed it. You can imagine how delighted I was to receive a message from a friend with the details on Saturday afternoon. This was good.
No. No.
This was excellent.
Finally. Finally, God heard my prayers, and she finally answered. I needed to grind on a butch's leg. Stat. I spend several hours getting ready, most of all dedicated to careful bush maintenance and outfit selecting. I finally settle on a bold favorite: my shirt, closer to a very small cardigan, three buttons barely holding it together, exposing a smooth swath of skin before it meets a very cute, very short skirt. I had also recently found a 'belt' that was really just a necklace for your waist or hips; a chain of sorts, but each link is heart-shaped. I feel like such a fucking treat, slipping into my favorite underwear; wisps of lace, modestly sparkly and heart-shaped, in shades of pastel, along with a small gem hanging from a small keyhole in the back.
I finish getting ready, and I...am so early.
Fuck.
It wasn't good for me to sit still, unoccupied since my recent tragedy (see: the girlfriend incident). Spending so long admiring my figure in the mirror did make me pretty horny, and I needed to be able to at least make it a little bit into the night and not go be fucked by the first dyke I see.
Instead of masturbating, I spend the time pre-gaming. I share a few joints with my roommate, have a drink or two, before starting my trek over; the party wasn't far, and I was not nearly sober enough to operate a car. Thankfully, the sun hung around long enough for me to get onto the property.
And--holy shit. It was certainly a big piece of property. I hear the party first, and then see the large house that has people spilling out of it.
No, not normal people. Far better.
Queers.
Excitement buzzes in my stomach and I feel eyes on me as I make my way in. It's not just lesbians, although queer girls seemed to be a lot of the population, but is also made up of a litany of others. I see two bears making out with each other under a tree, just in front of the house.
This is perfect. New plan: minimum make out with someone tonight. I need to forget about my T.A., in spite of the crushing disappointment and small doubt in the back of my mind that I could ever find anyone as attractive again. Whatever. It doesn't have to be a cosmic connection.
I remind myself of this through the course of the night as I keep my options open. I dance here and there with a few twinks, a few beautiful femmes, and a few capital-D Dykes, nursing drinks and hitting blunts offered to me as I go. I truly forget about my T.A. for a few hours; it's enough to be able to be in such close proximity to all of these other hot people. I was wrong, by the way--there were plenty of hotties at this party. So take that, T.A.
I'm not sure how long I've been there when I feel a hand on my waist. I turn, and I am slightly taken aback at the beautiful woman asking to dance with me. I nod enthusiastically and I crowd up against her, pushing my ass into her pelvis when I feel her press closer to me. I feel myself getting wetter, a little more desperate to feel her hands on me as the songs change. At some point, she spins me around, pressing our bodies together. It's easy to dance with her, and it's even easier to kiss her. She grabs my chin and tilts my face up, giving me time to back out. I don't. Instead, I lean forward, and we come together in a mess of lip gloss.
This make out is intense. I feel so desperate, kissing her with a feverish intensity, grinding against her leg. Even though I'm not really into other femmes, I'm still a lesbian, and she's still a beautiful woman that wants to make out with me. I feel myself becoming wetter and wetter at the pressure of her leg and I let out a little moan in her ear. Did I imagine, just for a moment, that it was a thicker thigh, covered in chinos, and also is the hottest person I've ever seen?
It's possible.
She pulls back and grins at me. I'm a little dazed, but grin back, and we part ways amicably when I let her know I'm not into other femmes, but that I had a good time.
The dance floor is too crowded, suddenly, and I make my way out. It's not easy to push through the throngs of people, but I finally break out of the thick of it, feeling near instant relief.
It's still not enough; I need to be outside, and I grab a cup of water before making my way. The air is cool--the kind of late summer night with cicadas humming--and the breeze hits my face in such a blissful way that I wonder if it's how dogs feel when they stick their head out the window. I stand there, absorbing it for a second, before someone else drunkenly stumbles into me, apologizing profusely as I tumble downwards. My cup, embarrassingly, goes fucking everywhere, but mostly on my shirt and a small portion of my skirt.
Oh, jesus christ.
Someone helps me up, and I cling to their arm, too embarrassed to look at anyone for a second. Oh my god. How fucking humiliating.
"Are you okay?" My helper asks, and I yank my head up finally.
There, in the moonlight and faint shadow of the light spilling from the house, is my T.A. Of course they look so fucking hot, and I'm covered in fucking water; I give a small, weak moan of humiliation.
"Am I hallucinating? Or is it you?"
