Swinging both ways (Guest Post)
Two and a half years ago I had sex with a woman for the first time, pressed against my flat mates bedroom door in the middle of a full scale house party, which had got a little out of hand.
That experience left me with a love bite spanning the majority of the left side of my neck and a love affair with a boy to end. Needless to say things have been a little different since then.
I have always had an interest in women, but until that moment, pressed between the damp towels I hadn’t quite comprehended how far that interest would take me. I’ve always found women attractive but apart from a few drunken female fumbles, I never believed I felt any different to any other sexually liberated woman my age. My naivety was revealed to me about two months after the party, as I begun to tell friends and family about my new girlfriend.
I’ve always been a highly sexual person, which was well documented by my housemates, who would normally be waiting with a smile and a cup of tea after the door had been closed on that night’s house guest. Not one person who knew me before my girlfriend showed the slightest hint of surprise when I told them of my latest relationship. Which did make me wonder quite how much I knew myself.
I have always been an incredibly confident person, any room I walked into was always scouted for potential mates, I knew what I liked and wasn’t scared to tell whoever shared my bed. This world of women seemed to for a while to strip that confidence from me, how would I know what I liked if I hadn’t experienced it.
The following weeks consisted of some drunken fumbles, a realisation that any lesbian porn I had watched was in no way true to life and new found respect for a past male lover who had a rather spine tingling knack of making me come with just his mouth.
The beginnings of our relationship were mainly fraught with worry that I wasn’t good enough. Being some one who has cum simply from the vibrations of the number 88 bus, orgasms had never exactly been much of a problem for me. The realisation that for other women the illusive ‘O’ was a much harder task, helped me to understand the frustration and the hallowed stories of middle-aged women who had never experienced the rush.
But as time went on I began to understand the fundamental differences between having sex with men and women. Lesbian sex is an exercise in giving. For me my experience with women has focused on my ability to make them cum. The slightest angle or pace change does something inherently beautiful to a female body. I have always found it an exercise in relinquishing power; as women we have such a pressure placed upon us to perform in our everyday lives. We battle for control over ourselves and our ability as an everyday action, the female orgasm is a moment where a woman relinquishes that control, she allows her body to take over from her brain and twitch, shudder and move in ways her everyday performance would never allow. To be the owner of that moment, the person to have taken away that control is a powerful, fascinating and beautiful moment. I guess the fact that I can identify so wholly with that every day fight, makes this moment even more important.
That is when I realised it didn’t matter that I wasn’t experienced at what I was doing. Women are so much more mysterious, what brought her to screaming orgasm on one day wouldn’t even turn her on the next. It becomes an exercise in gaging not only what a woman likes, but what she likes at that time. Recognising her movements, at what moment she pushes her hips into you, what are your hands doing when her breathing becomes deep and hard? This is the skill to the female orgasm, no amount of tongue tips and tricks can teach you to listen to the women lying beneath you (or on top of you).
Alongside this slight lack of female experience was the new battle in my head, which seemed to see me pit my sexual attraction to men and women against each other. Who was I and what did I like?
It’s funny, I had spent my whole life trying to deny labels and suddenly I felt in desperate need of one to understand who I was. It has taken two years, a lot of sex and whole lot of self-reflection to finally come to the conclusion that I am bisexual.
I am a bisexual woman.
The main difference is that my bisexuality is different to the bisexual sold to us through porn and rom coms. Our main understanding of bisexuality as ‘straight’ women, seems to stem from a desire to turn a man on, when in fact for me bisexuality was an understanding of what was happening in my own head. I enjoy having sex with men and women, I enjoy relationships with men and women and I fantasise about both men and women.
I initially felt terrified entering the gay community. I had before stood on the outside, always had gay friends both male and female, frequently danced my feet sore in gay bars and clubs, but always as a bystander.
In complete and utter honesty lesbian bars can be terrifying places to be. The long stares in these places often come from girls sizing you up as competition, rather than trying to catch your eye. I’ve only once had a snide dismissive comment from a lesbian about my bisexuality. Claiming she could tell ‘from the way I looked at men’. As time has gone on lesbian bars have become easier places to be, I do think my qualms of being bisexual in a gay bar are mainly in my head, but then bisexuality is hard to spot in these places.
I guess it has been this period of mind-fuck that has brought me to writing about sex. This endeavour is part of me understanding my attractions and sexual quirks, whilst sharing some of my experiences, good and bad with others who share these attractions or are maybe just a little intrigued.