You know the feeling of being underwater? The weightlessness. The floating. It’s that particular sensation where every movement is slowed and meditative. Breath is held tight in your lungs and every inch of your skin seems to sit in the softness of water. Eventually, you come up to breathe. Your head crowns the surface and with a single inhale, the air penetrates your lungs bringing you back to reality. This is the best way I can describe having sex with Alessandra. Can you imagine the pleasure in two equal sets of female energy? We were women at war. Wet against wet. That alone would drive a sane man mad, or a good girl bad. Personally, I require a connection with somebody to share my body with them. I just don’t believe in spending empty time. I know what I like, and I know what I want, and I’m not the type of girl to cut corners out of desperation. I like to think I’m patient. Maybe, women in general are innately more patient than men. Who really knows? There’s a cadence to be followed in bed, just like coming up to the surface for a breath.
The night we met I was high on mushrooms, at a house party, surrounded by men I felt physically repulsed by. I was bored. Definitely jaded. I have the tendency to make men feel uncomfortable. Wait not men, boys. I make boys uncomfortable. Something about my eyes fuck them up because they never seem to look at me straight and when they do, they spit out something pathetic. It’s friendly, I get it, I try not to be a hater. It’s just I can sense who’s being real with me immediately, and boys aren’t often capable of being real with me. That night, I was too high to tolerate it and I spent the first half freaking out everyone who approached to me, then hit my joints as they walked away defeated. I’m not the kind of girl who enjoys this, I suppose it’s just who I am. Too high to try.
Then Alessandra found me like my breath of fresh air. She was a piece of amber. She was light hitting the surface of the ocean, when you are on the bottom looking up. Peruivan, all tanned with sunkissed hair, rolling Spanish off the tip of her tongue fast. She looked deep into my eyes. “I’m gonna take care of you tonight.” So, I let her. I’d never been with a woman before. Not that I hadn’t thought about it, or touched myself thinking of a woman’s soft lips on mine. It’s only that a woman had never come onto me so directly. Sex is sex, and wanting someone is genderless in my opinion. We began by undressing each other. She held me down into the bed, worshipping my body, touching every line and curve. She traced the swollen scoop of my breasts. The pink tips of my nipples. She took them in her fingers and pinched. At the pressure, my flower ached. She kissed the line of my abdomen, and with two hands sent chills down my spine. She lifted the lace of my panties and looked at me, devilishly. I smiled, and while holding her eyes, I rose from bed to my knees. I took her left nipple into my lips and sucked softly. Playing with it like a little bead, I used my tongue to flick back and forth. I used my teeth, softly, to bite into her and at the same time, let my fingers wander. They crawled between her legs and under, over her panties. They played lightly with the tips of my nails as I felt for her honey and each time I would bite down on her hard nipple, I could feel her pussy soaking the black fabric of her g-string. As the fire between us grew, kisses turned into full, wet tongues painting each other’s skin.
Everything was wet to the touch. The sheets. Our hair, our arms and chests, sweaty. Our legs shaking as we would spit on each other’s skin and use our nails to drag it across. The most erotic of all came as she climbed on top of me and put my wet flower against hers. We kissed each other with the most sacred parts of our bodies. Grinding slow, then riding the waves our hips created as we let pleasure consume us. I can’t stop thinking of it. That was the wettest kiss. We moved faster when her clit rubbed against mine. Then slower again. Swimming through the cadence. I came five times that night. Each time harder than the first. She understood the language my body spoke and with each note, she responded. And when she ate me, she devoured me. Her entire body could be felt as she pressed her stiffened tongue into my tight holes. Usually, i’m vocal in bed because I know what I like and I’m not afraid to ask for it. But in her possession, I was speechless. If I tried to speak, her tongue would dig into my tightness and my words would be lost beneath what felt like water. I was drowning but the entire time I felt as if I was swimming. Swimming between her thighs, sinking beneath her surface. Then submitting and unfolding into her, I would simply float. ‘Que rico,” she would sing to me, “que rico.”
Often, when you hear about two women together, you hear of their emotional connection. Women are softer and more in touch with their feelings, people say. But for me, this was physical. It was spiritual. Two bodies containing their own universes met and mixed together until we didn’t know who’s was who’s. We were one. Tangled. Tumultuous. Tantric. Our sex wasn’t softer than sex I have with men. It wasn’t emotionally deeper either than sex I have with men, either. It was all encompassing. All consuming. Having sex with a beautiful woman was experiencing two equal energies coming together, like a waterfall. One falling, the other crashing. I came down my legs, dripping onto hers. She came down her legs, covering me in the sweetest, most holy water. Wet against wet. Having sex with a woman for the first time felt like being underwater, diving in head first then floating weightlessly.