I Have Been Spending Time Remembering With My First Love

I came to America in the middle of a c*******r in my country. I was lucky, my father was appointed to the United Nations. I went to a girl's school, my mother did not like mixed schools for us. At this school we found all kinds of behaviors. By the time we were fourteen we were experimenting with other girls, learning how to kiss and we kissed boobs and had our boobs kissed. With this one girl we touched our privates. She told me about my clitoris and showed me how to make me happy. She had learned from our gym teacher, a woman who looked a lot like a man. Big, square shoulders, short hair, big hands. We joked in school that she had balls. But she was butch, a dyke, and she liked high school girls.

My mother walked in on me one afternoon as I was having fun with my clitoris. My pants were open, and I was laying on the bed, and I had my eyes shut while I rubbed my clitoris. My friend had taught me to use vaseline, and the vaseline container was on my nightstand. Masturbation was a sin. I was forced to sit in the living room while my mother gave me a lecture on masturbation. Some things are left for when you get married. You do not deny your future husband of his pleasures.

But my friend and I loved to kiss and pretend, to kiss boobies, to lay side by side and masturbate our clitoris. We had discovered orgasm, and the uncontrollable desire to have something in our vagina when we masturbated. We knew that one day that would be our husband, but what to do then. We used different objects, we heard about dildos, but had no idea how you would go around getting one. So, with a deep two finger dive, we fingered each other while we kissed on our clitorises until we had an orgasm or our wrist hurt, which ever came first. We never thought ourselves as being lesbians like the dyke who was our gym teacher.

I worked for my father, and she worked at a bank. We went out together, shopping, the movies, the museums. At the movies we held hands, in the stalls of the bathrooms we kissed. When we knew the house would be empty we got in bed under the covers and made love. We read everything we could find about being lesbians, mostly at the library. We never checked anything out. We heard about the Village and we went there weekends, to watch for lesbians. There was this one Italian restaurant and we sat outside and watched the people walk by. When my father transferred back I had to go with him. It was a very difficult goodbye.

Time stands still when these memories are made. Memories of two young women finding that they were in love. Our lives evolved as you would expect, we both had husbands and families, and respect. But in our dreams we were always together, in our dreams we are still seventeen.