While I'm going down memory lane...
My poor first college boyfriend had to put up with a lot, not that he knew about most of it. He was a nice, smart young man who went on to great things. He took my virginity with great sweetness and gentleness (no bleeding). My family loved him, and everyone assumed we would stay together, get married and have kids.
But I was 19 and just beginning to taste the sweet fruit of sex, including illicit sex. Within two months of losing my virginity, I went to the infamous frat party. Suddenly I had racked up three lovers. I was only beginning.
The next month, I was alone in the dorm with my suite-mate Pam. She was attractive, blond and athletic, and she had just been dumped by her boyfriend. We were sitting on a sofa drinking wine, me consoling her with my vast experience in matters of the heart, when she leaned over and kissed me. It was a tentative kiss, barely a brush on the lips.
It was enough. We just exploded against each other, frantically kissing, tongues and hands exploring. I had no idea what I was doing. All I knew what that I was suddenly very sexually aroused and attracted to this girl. Now I know that it's almost a cliche for college-educated Gen Xers to have had a girl-girl experience at some point. But this was nothing I had planned. It was only a matter of minutes before we were in a bedroom, naked, all over each other.
Pam had done this before, and, after a long sweet buildup of kissing, sucking my nipples, kissing my navel, licking my toes and legs, finger-fucking me...after all this, she went down on me. Talk about a revelation! All the boys had been in a hurry. And although my main BF had eaten my pussy, he didn't seem all that into it.
Pam, by contrast, loved my pussy. This was a big deal for me. because I had certain "pussy image" issues from my teens. My pussy has big lips. I got very wet (still do). And when aroused it emitted a very strong odor (still does). All this seemed odd and abnormal; should I be ashamed?
"You're beautiful," she cooed as she made a show of taking in my scent. I believed her. (Certain worldly men later did much the same thing). She ever-so-gently worked me over, taking her time, using her tongue to explore every part of my pussy. I got more aroused than I ever had thought possible. Then it happened, the first of several powerful orgasms tore through me. It was the night I realized I could do multiples. It was the night I realized I was a screamer.
I returned the favor, savoring the ways we were the same, and the ways we were different (her pussy was an "inny," with a lovely small vulva; her breasts were large and naturally firm). We continued to play over the next year, even though we also dated men. She was a wonderful safe harbor and a very skilled lover. (Now she's married with children...).
My poor BF never knew any of this. We stayed together for another year, during which time I was also fucking two other men. Once I went to his apartment with another man's sperm inside me, feeling wonderfully naughty. It finally blew up when he caught me in a lie and I tearfully confessed. I felt bad for him, and I hurt, too. But I wasn't ready to have my life wrapped up like a drab package.
I was only beginning.