Both of us naked. She starts by pouring the oil down my back, then massages from the nape of my neck down to my waist. Slowly. Slowly. She adds more oil and massages until I am fully covered.

I do the same, putting my favorite oils on her body and working it in. She'll smell like me for days.

Both fully covered in oils, we slide comfortably against each other, our breasts gliding like they were made to fit.

Our lips find each other almost perfectly as we scissor and kiss in a moment of slow, real intimacy. My fingers slide into her seamlessly, curling and moving in and out of her warm, wet pussy.

Her moans fill the room.

The background music can barely be heard as I am dazed by the sight in front of me. I keep fingering her, circling my thumb around her clit and kissing her.

I watch as her climax builds, her eyes rolling backwards and her pussy clenching around my fingers. Her body moves to match my thrusts until she finally comes undone.

I watch her at every moment and feel privileged that she's chosen me. She is all I want.

Hers, Still

Hi my loves, I hope you enjoyed this one.

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Honestly?

I'd probably let her if she wanted to.

That's how easy I am.

The claws don't stop her from rubbing my clit in circles. Fuck, that feels like heaven, and I'm right where I need to be. So I relax comfortably into the bed, kick off my panties, and spread more for her.

This, she takes as a cue to move her mouth down to my pussy, licking me up like that's the best-tasting yogurt she's ever had.

She spreads her tongue flat and tastes every inch of me, worshipping my vagina, then narrows her tongue, going in and out, basically tongue-fucking me.

Fucking hell.

I grip her hair, my hips thrusting upwards, trying to match her rhythm and failing. I give up and let her take full control of my body as my orgasms build up quickly.

"Cum for me, baby," was what I needed, and I let the orgasms take me, my moans louder than morning prayers.

I hope the neighbors are still asleep.

Shit.

Good fucking morning.

Hers, Still

…

There’s something about narrations; they’re so immersive, and they make you (the reader) feel like you’re taking part in the action.

It’s also the only way I know how to write too, so…

Okay.

Stick around, this one is worth the read.

The spice isn't excluded too (wink wink)

Let’s get to it.

I absolutely despise being frustrated, but on this particular day that was all I felt; being pulled in every direction by coursemates and lecturers that simply refused to handle their own shit.

The weather was too fucking hot to be moving back and forth, plus I still had to study, and 24 hours wasn’t enough to accommodate all the things I had to get done.

Frustration.

After telling my coursemates and lecturers to go fuck themselves (did not), I finally settled in the study hall to try to calm my brain. Hopefully, I could get a few hours of study in before finally running mad. So I began to study.

Until one of our sisters walked past the aisle I was sitting in, I lost focus.

Being in a Catholic institution meant that the place was run and overrun by ugly reverend fathers and reverend sisters — who mostly believed that they were too pure for this earth, and had large rewards waiting for them in heaven. They moved around with each other, spoke in hushed tones, and barely interacted with the rest of us students. Although, rumors constantly circulated about how sisters were seen going in and out of Father’s quarters at ungodly hours — but that’s a story for another entry.

Even though I barely got a proper look at this sister, there was an instant attraction I couldn’t ignore; from the way the knee-length skirt hugged her little curves to her smooth, light skin, she wore glasses too, and from the little glance I caught of her face, there was this “cute as a button” aura that I got from her. This made me all the more interested in at least striking up a conversation with her.

She’d picked a seat a few rows in front of me, so I juggled between reading and observing her mannerisms.

She’d lift her headscarf to expose her neck; she was in obvious discomfort because of the heat. At a point, she brought out a floral water bottle wrapped in a little crochet towel, probably to preserve the coolness of the water.

I just kept staring.

At a point, she stood up and paced back and forth like she was trying to memorize something, so I finally got a better look at her face. She was beautiful in a very easy way, bare-faced with glasses. I liked her face. A lot. It was then that I decided I needed to talk to her — with zero intentions, of course. Need I remind you that she’s a reverend sister.

Fast-forward the unimportant details of how I briefly ran mad because of education, to the point where I got to speak to the sister.

The hall was quite silent, with the dim hum of some random equipment somewhere. It felt like I was holding my breath and watching the clock in the little corner of my laptop tick off the last few minutes to 6 p.m., all the while deceiving myself that I was still reading the lines on the PDF document — they had blurred over 20 minutes ago.

The strike of 6 o’clock, as usual, was indicated by the bell that clanged from the chapel and could be heard from anywhere in the school. I took that as a cue to stand and pack up my stuff.

I walked the few rows down to where the sister sat and struck up a conversation. She was surprisingly easy to talk to. She was young — just a few years older than me — and her name was Ruth. Sister Ruth.

The conversation flowed easily until Sister Ruth said something. She said, “You look very gay.”

I was genuinely caught off guard, but I laughed — like I always do in awkward situations — and tried to move past it by changing the topic.

She wasn’t responding to me, then she asked, “Well, are you… gay?”

I was low-key scared, for fairly obvious reasons. Almost every staunch Christian or religious person has a bone to pick with gay people.

I answered hesitantly, but I told her yes. I didn’t get the reaction I was expecting, as she shrugged it off as if I’d told her what I’d had for lunch.

The conversation went on smoothly, and Sister Ruth also packed her things so we could walk out of the hall together. At the point of saying our farewells, she said something that caught me off guard again. She said, “I like gay people, especially women.” I stuttered and stumbled over my words, trying to find a response to her statement. I didn’t.

“I’d like to continue this conversation. Meet me at the chapel’s basement tomorrow evening at 7,” she said, and walked away. I still hadn’t found my words.

The whole of the next day, I spent wondering what part of the conversation Sister wanted to continue. At the chapel??

Was she going to try to “pray my gay away,” or maybe she’d tell a reverend father that a student was gay and he’d force me to “unbecome” gay or I’d be expelled?

With these thoughts roaming in my head and fear in my heart, I found my feet walking down to the chapel at a quarter to 7 p.m.

I got there and stood gazing at nothing on my phone while wondering where I would find the sister or if I should turn and head back to my hostel.

These thoughts were cut short when my phone was snatched from my hands. It was Sister Ruth, clothed in her normal nun attire. She smiled and told me to follow her.

***Buckle up, this is where it gets spicy.

The room we walked into was very dimly lit, and Sister Ruth turned on the flashlight on my phone, which she still held.

The room looked like a meeting room of some sort, with wooden benches and tables.

I looked around, half expecting a father to come out of the shadows and drench me in anointing oil, force me to my knees, and pray for me. But that didn’t happen.

My attention was brought back to Ruth as she dragged me by my belt loop and kissed me.

Confusion. Absolute fucking confusion. And ecstasy?

My brain was taking some time to process that this woman was kissing me, and why she was kissing me, but my lips knew they had to reciprocate before anything else. We’d kissed for a good 30 seconds before I pulled away and wiped my lips.

“What… what was that for?” I asked, my voice betraying me by cracking.

“Should I continue?” she asked while unbuckling my belt slowly. “Your eyes have already answered me,” she added. “I just want you to say you want it.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Okay… what?”

“I want it,” I finally said.

“Good girl.”

With those words, I died and basically laid myself on a platter for this woman to eat me up — and boy, did she eat me the fuck up.

My trousers were off quickly, and this sister proceeded to give me the best head ever. She sucked and licked me up with an expertise that left me wondering if she’d really taken a vow of celibacy. She paced herself, edging me on purpose and making me beg her to let me cum. Her fingers did their thing at the right time, hitting the perfect spots, and with her thumb rubbing on the nub of my clit, her mouth took on my nipples one at a time.

I was so close, then she pulled away completely and made me beg — and I did. I begged Sister Ruth to make me cum; she went all in again.

I moaned and cried out — forgetting the fathers and their anointing oil — orgasm after orgasm, until my legs shook and my body went limp.

What in God’s name had just happened?

Ruth hadn’t said anything about being attracted to me.

Reverend sisters weren’t supposed to have sex — let alone “sinful” sex — according to their beliefs.

Why did I let her?

Was her vow broken for me?

Was she a closeted lesbian?

Was she feeling guilty?

Was I feeling guilty?

Had she done this before?

Was I special, or just available?

Would she pray for forgiveness tonight?

Would I?

What was going to happen now?

These questions circled my mind with no possibility of getting answers, but that was the start of an abominable affair that’s still ongoing.

Image derived from Pinterest

Hers, Still

Being the last of three kids—well, adults now—Kaira was monitored almost 24/7. She didn’t even have a room to herself. And she was already 19 years old. This just made her generally more withdrawn and unexpressive. She’d never had a partner, because how was she supposed to take late-night calls or sexts with her older brother lying at the other side of the room? How was she supposed to touch herself? She’d resorted to doing it in the shower, but that was far from comfortable. She’d ordered a rose and hid it like her life depended on it.

On this day, when the rest of the family was to go out of town for a family function, Kaira feigned illness to get out of the generic “Where’s your boyfriend?” question she’d been getting from her cousin since she entered university.

Evening came and the family was out of the way. Kaira could breathe. She could feel her pussy demanding some much-needed attention. She had the room to herself—the whole house to herself.

To start off, Kaira got two cans of her favorite vodka (the ones her friends at uni had introduced her to) and drank them fairly quickly while reading one of her many sapphic erotic books. She was very horny at this point, her pussy throbbing quietly. She wobbled to her wardrobe and overturned a bunch of clothes under which she’d hidden the toy.

Back on her bed, Kaira searched up “lesbian sex” and clicked on the video she had watched multiple times in the shower. The alcohol began to hit. Kaira’s hands massaged her nipples, which now stood erect. She pinched them and moaned at the pleasure and slight pain. She propped her phone against a pillow and kept massaging her breasts as the blonde women on the screen sucked on each other’s nipples.

Kaira could feel herself getting soaked. She shrugged off the sweats she had on, hands inside her panties. Kaira moaned at the feel of her own wetness. She slid her fingers up and down the sides of her pussy lips, teasing herself. Her clit begged for some action.

Kaira began rubbing her clit with her thumb, and her moans filled the room. She didn’t have a care in the world. She slid her middle fingers in, one after the other, and fingered herself slowly. Then she increased the speed while still rubbing her clit with the thumb of the same hand.

She felt herself getting close, but she didn’t want to cum yet, so she paused. The moaning sounds of the women from the video were now faint as Kaira was borderline drunk, and her imagination was more than capable of carrying her the rest of the way.

She grabbed the rose and turned it on. The vibrating sound made her pussy giddy with excitement. Kaira twirled the vibrator on one nipple and then the other, her mouth wide open in pleasure. She took the toy down to her pussy. Immediately, she gasped for air—she’d missed this so bad.

Kaira rubbed the toy over every inch of her vagina, her moans coming out loud and unbothered. She rubbed and rubbed. Her mind, fuzzy from the alcohol, made it feel like her senses were heightened. Her climb up to her climax felt like she was levitating, and when she came, she came hard, her breathing in short gasps.

It felt like she’d reached a place she’d been trying to reach. She felt good and sleepy. She was drifting off to sleep almost immediately, but not before setting an alarm to wake up in the middle of the night.

She needed to have another session, or more, before her family returned in the morning.

Hers, Still

I don't know how to have lesbian sex.

I don't know what steps to be taken, how to use protection, or even how to initiate anything—now don't come for me, I know these things could be learned. So shush.

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What brought about this article, you might ask?

Exhibit A

Well, there I was, laying in bed with a sneaky link/friend/potential long-term partner.

We were touching each other (obvs), then she asked if she could go down on me, i.e., eat that pussy.

I wanted it, but at the same time, I was scared because I’d never indulged in that before, and they'd want me to reciprocate.

I didn't know how to eat pussy.

So I painfully declined, and half-assed orgasms were had.

---

Exhibit B

There we were rubbing and rubbing aaanddd rubbing, and some clit-on-clit action would've been the ingredient needed to spice up that mildly boring session—pardon me.

As usual, I wanted it.

But this time, I was scared.

What if I get an infection? What if I don't get it right? What if I… what if I… what if I…

And I was scared to ask them if they were completely clean. I knew I didn't have any STIs.

I thought, if only we had condoms, I would've gone through with this.

Condoms?

How on earth are we supposed to use condoms for clit action?

I'm so used to the thought of a man slapping those rubbery balloons on their penises and going to pound town.

But what was I supposed to use? What am I supposed to use?

I'm not going to pretend like I fully understand it. Because I don't.

---

Let me paint a little picture.

Imagine you're at a queer club, dancing, drunk, and all around having a wonderful time.

You spot the finest woman you've ever set your eyes on. Turns out she's been staring at you too, and she approaches.

You guys have little conversation. Tension starts to build as she's teasing you. You decide the night’s not going to end until you get fucked by this woman.

Wonderfully, she has similar intentions, so y'all head on back to yours, and pound town is in sight.

Pause!!!!!!!!!!!

What do you do here?

A. Ask if she has an infection

The make-out session is in progress. You pull away and stroke her hair. You blurt out this question: “Do you have infections?”

“I'm sorry, what?” she asks.

“Do you have infections?” you reiterate.

Outcome A

The vibe dies, and now the room is silent and everything's awkward.

Outcome B

She says she doesn't have an infection—which is a lie. You guys have sex, and you become infected too.

Outcome C

She says she's clean—which is true. So you're safe.

---

B. Ask for protection

“Have you got any condoms or dental dams?” you ask.

Outcome A

They don't know what dental dams are. Neither do you. You've just heard of them multiple times before.

Outcome B

She's confused about how you plan to use the condoms you just asked for—and so are you. You've never used them before.

Outcome C

She has both and is also educated on how to use them, so you guys have mind-blowing sex.

---

C. Silence

No one asks anything, and you have amazing sex—but you're now worried if you have an infection.

---

I'm sorry you had to read all of that. Thank you for sticking with me.

Okay, moving on.

No… wait.

---

Exhibit C

If you're confused about where you are, scroll back up—I had to too.

There we were having another session, rubbing as usual.

This time, I wanted my fingers in her.

She was scared.

She'd had a bad experience with a man.

Now she didn't want to take my fingers.

Of course, I didn't push further.

She finally let me do so a few sessions later.

These men aren't educated either, and they're scarring women, preventing them from experiencing real pleasure.

---

I don't know how we collectively agreed that we are safe by default, and no one talks about protection for sapphic sex.

We really should be more educated. I should be more educated, for God's sake.

Don't you all want to have peace of mind!!

We've bypassed the hurdle of unwanted pregnancy. Shall we learn to bypass this hurdle too, so we can reign supreme (I mean, we're already the better species 😏), but you get my point.

---

On the use of toys, I hope we're all aware that they're to be cleaned. I think that's pretty much common sense, right?

Where I'm confused is… straps… dildos… large, fun-coloured dicks!!

How do you use them in the event that you're not a loser lesbian (like cough cough me) and you actually have multiple partners?

I've heard that you should boil the dick. Is that true?

I mean… it does make sense, but to boil it? That sounds weird.

I know just cleaning it wouldn't get the job done. If you know the right thing to do, kindly leave it down below.

And for vibrators, roses, and other stimulators—do you share them with partners, and how do we really stay safe while doing all this?

---

Ugh, I still have a lot to learn, but these concerns would not stop me from having sex when it knocks on my door, and they should not stop you either.

We learn and we grow while hoping we don't make an irreversible mistake.

---

Thanks for reading. I hope you have sex tonight.

Hers, Still

That smell that comes immediately before it starts raining—and when the rain finally hits the earth—that’s what she smells like. I think it’s called petrichor.

It’s perfect.

Perfect for me; an acquired taste.

Not everyone loves the rain the way I do; not everyone loves her the way I do.

Everything about her reminds me of nature:

her earthy aesthetic and her love for the color green make me feel like I’m holding nature in my arms.

Her aura—so dark, yet so beautiful—mimics the clouds on a stormy night.

The way her body moves, so suave, reminds me of the sleekest animals.

And oh, her oiled-up deep brown skin is a perfect representation of mahogany.

It doesn’t get better than this. The emotions I feel for this woman are a hill I would die on a hundred times over.

The freckles that cover her nose and cheeks are so imperfectly perfect, placed in no particular order, reminding one of scattered stars in the sky.

Watching her open her eyes every morning is my breath of fresh air, and it’s all the light that I need in my life.

My lady is a force of nature, how did I get so lucky?

Hers, Still

I watched silently as Cyder fastened the harness around her thighs and waist. She seemed skilled, and I loved that.

The room was dimly lit, but I could still make out Cy's features, her jawline being most prominent. She also had a vibrant nose, full thick brows, and luscious locs falling over the side of her face. I lusted after this woman and her intense aura. I wanted her, and she knew it.

Cyder grabbed the bright pink dildo from the 'bag' and secured it on the harness. A little shiver ran down my spine at how big it was. I shook it off. I could take it. I just wanted this woman to fuck me till I couldn't walk. Yes.

The mood had been set for over an hour, from the dinner she'd cooked for me, to us drinking and dancing to some sensual music that had us caressing each other all over. Clothes disappeared early, and there was a good amount of foreplay. Cy particularly enjoyed when I played with her titties, so I teased her a lot with that. We hadn't done the whole strapping business before, plus she'd hinted that she was good at it, so when she suggested it, I agreed with glee.

She squirted some lube from a small transparent bottle into her hands and massaged it onto the dildo. Her eyes were cloudy with desire, and my clit throbbed softly. Cyder lowered herself onto the bed and grabbed my head, kissing me hungrily. I gave her tongue the freedom it needed to explore the insides of my mouth. Her hands lowered to my breasts, where her thumbs twirled around my nipples, which instantly became hard. I could feel the wetness start to pool between my legs, and the throbbing intensified.

I grabbed the harness, bringing the dildo closer to massage my entrance. I rubbed the length against my vulva. Little moans escaped my mouth, and my heart beat a little faster. Cy took the dildo back in her hands and eased the tip gently into my pussy. I let out whimpers of pleasure as my legs spread wider, ready to take all of her. She teased me with the tip some more, and I grabbed her waist, pushing her to fill me with the length.

I wasn't mentally prepared for the thrust that came, and I screamed in both pain and pleasure.

“Are you okay?” Cy paused and asked, worried that she'd hurt me. That was Cy, soft yet fierce.

“Keep going,” I moaned, and she kept going—slowly at first, still semi-scared of hurting me. Then she built up the pace until she was pounding into me. No coherent thoughts were forming in my head at the time, as all I felt was pleasure. The headboard hit the wall in sync with the thrusts, and Cy's moans showed she was receiving as much pleasure as I was getting.

I grabbed and squeezed her ass, pushing her deeper into me. I was close. She noticed and supplemented the thrusts with rubbing the nub of my clit and pressing down on my lower belly gently. My orgasm built up and built up, and Cy thrusted and hit all the right spots. Mouth wide open at this point, my ears filled with the squirting sounds of sex. The atmosphere reeked of sex and Cy's cologne. All my senses were fully stimulated, and my orgasm came in waves, and Cy rode me through it. She pounded faster as I jerked, arched my back, screamed, and came.

We both hit the bed panting, and I smiled in satisfaction. Cy grabbed the box of tissues from the nightstand and cleaned us up. My body let out a shiver as she touched my pussy—she'd been well fed, but wasn't bruised yet, so I knew she could take more.

Cy held me close, and we both drifted off soon after, but not for long, because I had other plans.

Hers, Still.

Her touch, though gentle, didn’t take away from her dominance.

I think this is what I live for.

Her lips moved to suck and bite my earlobes. I bit my lip to stop myself from moaning.

She was too good at making me feel good.

She knew how to give attention to both my breasts, nibbling on one and palming the other, taking her time, making sure no part of her canvas was left unattended.

My responses came naturally, never forced. My body gave way and accepted her completely, which is no surprise, since every time she touches me, I forget how to breathe.

She kissed a line from between my breasts down to my clit, and it throbbed in anticipation.

There, she sucked and tasted until my legs shook and my back arched.

This was bliss. Pure ecstasy. There was no reason I wouldn’t give anything to be hers forever.

A chill ran down my spine as her tongue entered me, drinking up all of me.

Her moans told me just how much she enjoyed every bit of me.

She brought her lips back up to mine so I could taste myself on her.

Beads of sweat lined her brows and forehead, her lips glistening—absolute perfection.

She sucked on the sweet spot of my neck, and the throbbing started again.

This was going to be a long night.

And I was going to enjoy every fucking moment of it.

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