It is possible that everyone goes through this phase, but not all would actually say it: I have been having problems with lesbian physical intimacy. It did not occur to me until last week when I was in that very particular situation. On the last day of my vacation, she told me “touch me?” All I was able to tell her was “tell me where to touch you and I don’t really know what to do.”
“You would know. It should be natural.” she said, but it was not like that for me. You see, I operate in a very systematic manner. I would only do things I have studied and if it is something that I have never tried, I am most sure that I can not perform.
So there we were on the bed with the light coming from the tiny space between the floor and edge of the door providing the only illumination. I was on my belly and placed my right palm on her private part protected by her shorts. It was so gentle that I felt that I have not placed the entire weight of my hand. I was nervous. My hands were clammy.
Our sexual relationship is something that people would describe “one-way” where there is only one driver (the pleasure giver) and the passenger (the receiver). I am the receiver and she is the pleasure giver. This is entirely different from my previous heterosexual relationship where it was easier to play the roles of the giver and receiver all at the same time.
In a very commanding fashion she said “put your hand in.” All images I have seen in lesbian movies and even pornographic films started playing in my head – like a moving collage – and then I froze. With the quality of her voice I knew she was smiling while speaking to me. Her scent always made me feel secured and tucking my head under her arms reinforced the feeling during that very awkward moment. “What do I do now?” I asked.
“Put your hand in and touch me.” “But tell me how to touch you.”
I wanted to fall asleep (if not be eaten alive by the bed). I wanted to forget how often I brought the topic up with her – our one-sided intimacy. I just figured out why, i.e. because I somehow, sort of, not able to provide what she could provide me.
On one side it is bliss not having to use a battery-operated toy because there is someone I am emotionally connected with who could provide me with “customized pleasure”, but at the same time it is very frustrating because I cannot give back.
“That’s your first lesson” was the last line I remember her saying before I fell asleep.
Few days after that night I told her that we should stop engaging from physically intimate activities (not until I get to learn how to do it – and it is only touching, it does not include the other ways of giving pleasure).
