Gay-Straight-Bi - What's With The Labels?

(Whispered) “Oh..didn’t you know? She’s bi!” Or “He’s gay.” Or perhaps you prefer the firmly stated, “I am STRAIGHT!” (Which, when said with real venom often makes me think, “The lady doth protest too much methinks.” 

But what’s with the labels? We are, and I’ll take no argument on this, what we need to be at the time. My dad had one homosexual encounter when he was 22. One. “It just felt right at the time,” he said. I have a girlfriend who had one lesbian encounter. “When it happened, I loved it, but…meh…I wouldn’t do it again. I much prefer cock. Mind you…it was pretty wild.” 

Two men, stranded on a desert island. Are you telling me they won’t, at some point, ‘comfort’ one another? I have absolutely no doubt two women would in the same situation. 

There’s a women in my employment…..she works in the kitchen of one of my pubs and is a superb chef, but she is…hmm…ok…let me describe her bluntly. She is what used to be termed a “big bull dyke.” And yes, she is something of a man-hater, and we had to have a very firmly understood discussion before I hired her that I would tolerate none of that shit on my premises. The first snide remark, the first ‘accident’ where a male employee gets covered in gravy or something like that and she walks. One evening, we were staying very late discussing changes she wanted to make to the menus, and we had a bottle of wine open between us. I can’t remember how we got onto the subject, but she admitted to having had quite enjoyable sex with men while she was at Uni. 

I’m not straight. I’m not lesbian. I’m not even bisexual. I’m simply me. I don’t even think of Emily as lesbian. Emily is..Emily. Sure, her preference is girls, but she has had sex with guys, and enjoyed it. On one of her lecture tours, she was working with all-male participants. A month can be a long time. Two guys got lucky. “Most men want to bed a lesbian,” she said “Some think they’ll ‘cure’ us!” 

Ah, but here’s something interesting. She said, “One of the guys knew I was married to another girl. We’d been chatting in the hotel bar, and I knew he was married to a woman too. Anyway, we ended up in bed together, but at no point did he even try to fuck me. He did to me what another girl would do. Exquisite, unhurried kissing, lots of gentle touching and stroking and, oh Anna, his fingering and oral techniques! Let me tell you, it was almost like a girl wearing a strapon doing me. I must have cum eight or nine times. When I turned my attention to him and suggested he fuck me, he actually declined. “I don’t think that’s what you really want, and I don’t want you to do something just for me like that. Let’s think of something else. Actually, now I remember it, he was quite ‘feminine’ if you know what I mean. In the end, I treated him like another girl. I made him cum purely through teasing him and prostrate massage. It was almost like fingering a girl anyway. Oh, and I sucked his nipples too. As I said, he was quite feminine. 

One of the saddest things I ever saw was a girl who I became aware of. We were both 18, and I didn’t know her that well. I just noticed that whenever I got changed for a swimming lesson in the girls' locker room, her eyes never left me. I knew exactly what she wanted, but her internal struggle between what she wanted to do, and what her religious upbringing informed her was the ‘right’ way prevented her from making any kind of move. 

So at our prom….and if you’ve ever attended a convent school prom, you’ll know there are two. There’s the school prom, and the apres prom, organised by us, elsewhere, after the official one closed at the ridiculous hour of 9:30pm. (Sent on our way with a blessing from Fr O’Malley of course.) 

At the after-party, I singled her out, and after a couple of real drinks, I simply told her I’d noticed her watching me, and that I fancied her. I took her hand, led her someplace dark, and we annoyed a very pleasant 45 minutes of kissing and fingering one another. (Very carefully in her case, since her hymen was still intact.) We even managed to go down on one another, although prom dresses don't lend themselves to that kind of thing.  My lasting memory of it now seems like a photograph taken from a couple of feet away. Her, leaning back against the wall, holding her prom dress up. Me kneeling in front of her having taken her panties off her. Her legs spread and knees slightly bent, and my hands on her bum, pulling her towards me as I licked her to orgasm.

So, tell me. Is she lesbian? Bi? She’s married now and pregnant, so, again, how would you ‘classify’ her! She never showed the slightest sexual interest in any of the other naked girls in that locker room, so why me?

I don’t believe in labels. We are what we are in that moment, and it’s nothing to feel guilty about.