On Girl.

I kissed a girl before I ever kissed a boy.

It's a pretty well-documented fact that I'm into chicks. But it always starts with one, doesn't it? Mine was called Anya.

The thing is, and I don't mean to brag when I say this, girls just have it so much easier than boys. Sure, you guys get to get paid more, be taken more seriously professionally, musically, artistically, as chefs, as writers, as economists and mathematicians - but guess what, at the end of the day we still get to have multiple orgasms and fuck our friends occasionally. Plus, we have these:

Yeah, I love boobs. Sue me.

I know, I know. You're saying, "Violet, did you just say you get to fuck your friends occasionally?" Yes, boys and girls, that's what I said. If you think about it, it's really not too far of a stretch. While our bodies develop - or rather EXPLODE, as the case may be - girls have each other to confide in, ask questions about, show things to.

It's so much fun to be naked! With your girlfriends!

If you've ever spent any time with a group of teenage girls you know they love to hug. They love to have sleepovers. They love to gossip. Add a well-placed swig from a Kahlua bottle in a parent's liquor cabinet and you have the beginnings of my sexual history. It's only a matter of time before you're comparing, touching, exploring and, almost inevitably, making each other come. At least this is how it was for me.

Just look and tell me if this is what yours look like? I'm serious.

I was young. The summer before my Sophomore year in high school. I arrived to my first day of summer camp and was instantly smitten - without really realizing what that meant. Anya was amazingly beautiful. She couldn't have been older than 16, but had swollen, alert breasts, fat lips, green eyes, porcelain skin, dyed black hair and a serious fucking chip on her shoulder. She was from LA, wore overalls with nothing but a leopard print bikini top underneath, bright red lipstick and, I imagine, at some point in her career DEFINITELY fucked a teacher. She was trouble. And I adored her.

We were bunkmates. Her on top, me below, in a cabin of twenty girls our age. Anya and I would sneak off during group activities to gossip in the woods about the boys at camp, girls at camp, hot counselors, mean counselors - and every once in a while, our conversation would veer toward sex. For Anya only, obviously, I hadn't ever kissed a human at this point. She told me about giving head to a much older boy in LA and about getting fingered by one of her older brother's friends during a birthday party. I felt absolutely scandalous and every time it happened I could feel my pussy grow hot with desire. Often times, her head would be in my lap while I played with her hair (I'm not fucking kidding you guys, every boyhood fantasy you had was true!) and I was terrified that she could feel my clit throbbing through my flimsy summer shorts. I followed her around like a puppy, totally unaware that what I really wanted was to fuck her sweet, slutty, naive little brains out.

One day, while we were supposed to be in some generic craft class or another, she was giving me a backrub on a grassy field behind our cabin. She sat, spread-legged on my butt and asked me if I'd ever masturbated. I was nervous to admit it, but told her that I had - of course - faking the totally cavalier air of someone much more experienced. She sounded relieved and told me that sometimes, late at night when everyone else in the cabin was asleep, she'd masturbate above me in our bunk, her stomach against the bed, hoping I could see through the mattress. My brain went crazy. I had no idea what to say back or how I would sleep that night. Lucky for me, I didn't have to figure that out.

That night, our counselors went to an all-counselor meeting after lights out. Which meant that every single one of us sat up in bed with our flashlights to gossip the moment they left. Anya had other plans.

She suggested that we move a few bunks together and congregate on the top bunk, for easier gossiping. We all did so, obediently. It was, so stereotypically, a sweaty, humid July night. So, wearing next to nothing, Anya asked which of the girls had ever kissed a boy. About half of them raised their hands. This must have been just what she suspected. She pointed out that it was a lot easier to kiss a girl first for practice than to kiss a boy for the first time. Then, when the poor souls of our half went back to real life, we'd be able to make out with abandon. A few of the girls balked.

"Violet, do you want to kiss me and show them all how easy it is?" I shrugged casually. Sure, WHY NOT, DREAM GIRL. She was on me like a gazelle, hands draped around my neck, tongue in my mouth, lips locked. It felt like heaven. I wanted more. Every girl in the bunk took turns kissing each other, you know, just to see. SERIOUSLY. About an hour later, we heard our counselors walking back up the hill, laughing, waving their flashlights about. We all rushed back to our beds.

Our counselors returned to the bunk. I stiffened, nervously. Anya put one finger to my lips and carefully, calmly, slid a hand down my stomach, into my shorts. I, as quietly as I could, mimicked her movements with my own hand. Her pussy was soft, and humid. She shivered.

For then, with Anya, that was all. We slept there together, orgasm-free, clits tight with anticipation in each other's arms. Just like a normal sleep-over.

It was really only a matter of time before I adventured further.

I have proven myself to be so verbose that that will have to wait for next time.