"You've really never been with a man?" I said.
"That is the conventional definition of a lesbian," Amy replied. We were drinking beer after work, like we did most night. She was on my couch, and I was in my chair across from her.
"I mean, I just figured, there must have been a time before you knew you were a lesbian. You never got frisky in high school? Fooled around as a young co-ed?"
She shrugged. "Even before I came out, guys just never paid that much attention to me. It used to bother me, but now I just wonder if even then I was somehow sending out subliminal dyke rays." We both laughed. I didn't really believe that guys had never paid attention to her, though. She was no ten, but she was cute: button-nose, heavy-lidded eyes, perfect smile. And her body -- well, when it wasn't hiding under frumpy clothes, it was round in all the right ways.
"You mean to tell me that you've never done anything? Never kissed a dude? Felt a wang? Given a blowjob?"
"No, no, and especially no." She lifted her arms behind her, stretching out. Her shirt pulled up, revealing a smooth stomach with a slight hint of roundness where it met her hips. She was wearing a sweater vest over a white dress shirt, and it made her breasts look very prominent. Suddenly my cock was interested in the situation.
"Does it bother you?" I asked.
"Not really. I'm a lesbian. Does it bother you that you've never been with another man?"
I laughed. "That's not the same thing. I mean, you know I'm fine with gay people, but it's not, you know, the norm." She raised one of her eyebrows. "That came out wrong. I'm just saying that while I support people's right to be gay, I also don't believe I'm missing anything. A blowjob is a blowjob no matter who gives it, and a butthole feels like a butthole whether it belongs to a man or a woman. But a penis and a vagina are different from anything else, and biologically designed to make each other feel good. You've gotta be curious what that feels like."
"It's not like I've never had anything in my pussy," she said. She emptied her beer and placed it on the table as she leaned forward. I could no longer see her midriff, but now I was looking down her shirt. The buttons above the low neck of her vest were undone, and I could see a fair amount of cleavage.
"Yeah but even a dildo can't feel the same as a real cock." I leaned forward, too. We were staring at each other in an oddly serious way. Like we were appraising each other, maybe.
Finally, she half-chuckled. "I suppose you're right. But I'll just have to die without knowing, I guess, cause I sure ain't gonna start dating men."
"If you wanted, I'd fool around with you," I said. My voice came out quieter than I intended.
"What?" she said.
I spoke up louder. "I said, 'I'd fool around with you.'"
She leaned over and playfully pushed me back into my chair. "Don't mess with me like that, dork." She was laughing, but I thought she might also be blushing.
"I'm not messing with you. I'm serious." She saw my expression and stopped laughing.
"You're serious."
"I'm serious."
"But, we're like, old friends."
"Who better to have first time awkward sex with? I'll be loving, I'll be gentle, and I'll know from the outset that it can never be repeated."
"You're serious."
"And I'll understand why you don't think I'm hot naked."
"You're actually serious."
"You're just not a fan of the wang."
"You're really, absolutely serious."
"It's the best of both worlds. No-strings-attached sex with someone who cares about you."
She stared at me. "Why?"
"You're my friend, and I'd like to help you." She raised her eyebrow again. "And you're pretty hot." She laughed again, but it sounded different than before.
She seemed to be thinking about it. She pursed her lips and squinted her eyes, like she was doing mental math. She stood up. She shifted her weight to her right leg and rubbed her left foot against the back of her calf. On her face, the mixture of curiosity and doubt was charming. Combined with her outfit, she looked almost school-girlish.
She spoke: "How would we, um, start?"
I stood up, too. We were facing each other, and standing a little closer than two friends normally stood. "Well, if you wanted, we could start with a kiss."
"I think I might like that," she said, her voice so low it was almost a whisper. I leaned forward, brushing my lips against hers. I held them there for one second, then two. I pulled back, my face still directly in front of hers but our lips no longer touching. She tasted sweet, vaguely of Dr. Pepper. Maybe from her lip gloss.
"That wasn't so bad," she said.
I leaned forward again, kissing her longer. I let my lips part slightly, and she did, too. My tongue brushed against hers right at the entrance of her mouth. I pulled back again. We were both breathing heavily.
"It's strange to kiss and feel stubble," she said.
