Masturbation Station

That got your attention, didn’t it?  Ha!  I knew it.  I just got back from my writing group, Tongues Afire, and during one of our readings one of the ladies read a very erotic, very descriptive account of going down on a girl.  It was one of those times were I feel extra fortunate to have dark brown skin that only warms in the face rather than turns an embarrassing color of crimson. 

I wasn’t “blushing” because I was embarrassed, god no.  I was blushing because it was fucking hot!  Same sort of hotness that happened in Yoga before writing group.  The girl in the matt in front of me reached up to the sky for her deep breath in and my gaze at my own reflection was distracted by her hairy armpits and sweat smell.  Gross you may say, and after an hour it definitely wasn’t as sexy a smell, but initially it was erotic and, well fucking hot! 

I think I’m horny.  Haha!  Writing that actually made me laugh out loud and I sort of feel like an 12-year-old girl who just accidentally found her clit in the shower but it’s true.  Remember back a while ago when I said that Mirs and I were trying to make time in our relationship for dates, etc.  Well, it was a great plan and the etc. was happening a lot.  The issue, and it’s not even an issue really because that’s what batteries and porn is for, is that she’s wrapping up the end of her first semester at school.  She’s working her ass off and we have an understanding that it will be a little stressful, we won’t see each other as much or sometimes not at all until the end of this week. 

So there you have it.  Almost three weeks of intense studying on her end, lots of working, writing, and exercise (distraction and attraction) and now I have an itch I can’t but must scratch please and thank you.  Enough about masturbation.

Yesterday was one of those rare times when we found ourselves unoccupied in the middle of the morning.  We were both between meetings and met each other for chatting and breakfast at our favorite Ukrainian restaurants in the East Village called Veselka.  I got lost out of the train and when I arrived she was already finished with her first cup of coffee.  I took off my coat and scarf to settle into the table with her and my eyes were distracted (they always seem to get distracted, eh?) by a cute girl with cropped, curly dirty blonde hair.  I didn’t look too long, she was a waitress and I’d get to scope her out for the duration of the meal.  I sat down with my girl and commented on the cute girl who maybe-kinda-could be a dyke. 

“Oh, I saw her already”  was Mirs response and I smiled.  We caught each other up on our mornings and passed our table with her back to us was another cute little maybe-kinda-could be a dyke. 

“Ooo, there’s another one”  I said to Mirs.

“Yeah, I saw her when she came in, “she replied.

This is the thing that I love about my relationship with my girlfriend-this shared appreciation for the beauty and hot asses of other women.  A year ago I probably would have been upset and insanely jealous and now I’m relieved that she doesn’t mind that I happen to notice a cute girl.  It’s even more of a relief that she’s checking out the same girl too.

So, is this a problem or not?  I venture to say that it’s not.  We talked about “Friend Crushes” the other afternoon when I teased her about a friend crush I thought she had.  She said it wasn’t a friend crush because she wasn’t sexually attracted to her.  That one stumped me.  When I had my Friend Crush on the girl who’s now just my very good friend (who’s super cute) I wasn’t sexually attracted to her.  Or at least I don’t think I was.  I mean, when I masturbated I didn’t picture her face between my legs, I pictured my girlfriend.  I was attracted to her; her short hair, her swagger, her really great hugs but I didn’t want to fuck her.

It’s the same thing with the girl who read the hot poem in workshop tonight.  In that instant I had a crush-because of her poem but not on the writer.  In Yoga seeing the hairy armpits I immediately thought she was gay but I didn’t want to have sex with her.  And the cute maybe-kinda dykes at the coffee shop were just cute little dykes. 

It’s okay to look.  That’s the moral of the story.  There are so many beautiful women out there.  Walking down Fulton Street in Fort Greene will make any lesbo weak in the knees.  The Women. Are. Fucking. Gorgeous.  If you’re a single girl, looking for a hot lady-hang out in Fort Greene, Brooklyn.  My present for you tonight.


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