But vaginas are just SO much more complicated. They all can look so different from each other, there are all these folds and different clit sizes and lip sizes and frankly it takes awhile to figure your way around one specific pussy.
Ok, so long story short, we're all over each other, and it's both super hot and kinda scary at the same time... kinda like when your high school gym teacher has cornered you in the utility closet and he's all "If you want to make the team you're gonna have to show me some initiative," and you feel both totally sexually harassed and afraid but also super turned on, and you know it's wrong but you really do want to make the team, and anyway he's kinda cute for a guy in his late 40's, so you just sort of go along with it, you know? No? Oh.
Anyway, so we're dancing and I have to pee. So I say, "I have to pee." And she says, "I'll come with you." So we get to the bathroom and there's a line of girls waiting, so Serine and I just stand there quietly, looking at each other from the corners of our eyes. Finally a stall opens up and it's my turn. So I go in, and she suddenly pushes her way in behind me.
"Oh, I'll just come in too," she says.
"Uhhh," I say, "Ok, but I have to pee."
"That's ok," she says. So, I sit down and start to pee. At that moment, Serine grabs my face and shoves her whole entire tongue down my throat. And. It. Is. AWESOME. We're making out like death row inmates and all the time I'm totally peeing. To this day, that's the closest to water sports that I've ever come. I stop kissing her only to wipe and pull up my pants and then we're back at it, slamming each other back and forth against the stall walls. The loud chatter of the line of waiting girls outside goes from 10 to dead silence in about five seconds as they realize what's going on.
"Let's get out of here," she says, coming up for air and all I can do is nod, take her hand, and walk out of the stall, past the line of gaping undergrads. One of which I did recognize as one of my Sociology 101 student. Whoops.
We go to her place. We're in her room. We're tearing off our shirts and sucking tongues, hands everywhere. She has amazing tits. I suddenly mentally turn into a sixteen year old boy. "Oh my god, boobs," I think. "I'm totally touching boobs right now. For real. Oh my god. This is so cool."
We're down to our panties and fall onto the bed. She's kissing down my body, my lips, my neck, my breasts, my stomach and I feel her hand tug on my panties. And then I remember.
Ok, backing up a bit. At this time, I also happened to be "seeing" this guy (read: fucking) who was like an undergrad, but he was in his 30s, all non-traditional student, total pill-popping, super dirty hippie Deadhead. Usually not my type, but hey. Central Illinois. Anyway, I'd let him come over and get stoned and go on and on and on about Durkheim and Max Weber and the sociological theory and blah blah blah, and finally he'd get around to fucking me. So at one point post coital, he looked at me and said "Why do you wax that?"
What? I asked.
"Your flower. The good Lord put petals on it for a reason. Let it groooow."
Well that was just about the dumbest thing anyone has ever said to me in or out of bed, but A) like I said, pickin's were slim and B) anything that promotes my laziness is ok by me. Don't shave you say? You don't have to ask me twice! So. I did not touch that shit for months. I was rockin' more 'fro than a late 70's Blacksploitation flick.
So right as Serine is about to pull down my panties to expose my "flower," I remembered that my garden more closely resembled the deepest of overgrown Amazonia than that of a tulip. I cringed, but there was no going back now. She pulled them down and I heard her gasp.
Gasp! she said and looked up at me.
"I have been waiting for a pussy like this!"
"What?" I asked.
"All you American girls are always so bare," she said in her thick accent. "Like little girl! I don't understand that. You are WOMAN. I love hair! I love this pussy!"
"Oh," I said. "Well. Good. Yayyy for me!"
She started kissing my stomach, moving down my legs, on to my inner thighs.
Oh my god, I thought. This is it. My most current number one fantasy is about to come true! A super fucking hot Eastern European girl has got me completely naked on her bed and is about go down on me! This is going to be awesome!! I laid back, shut my eyes, and awaited what was sure to be the kind of ecstasy that only a woman can bring to another.
What is she doing? I thought. Ok, ok, she's just warming up. No worries.
Why is she...? Why is she over there? What does she think that does? Because the answer is nothing. This is... Oh, wait. Ohhhh yeah. Right there! Good good. Just do that. Good.
Wait!! Why did she stop! Arrghghgh! This isn't the Red Lobster Combonation Platter, just pick ONE thing and stick to it!
This isn't working, I thought. My big theory of a woman knowing exactly what to do, down the drain. She was really bad. Now what do I do? I thought. Do I fake it? God I hate that, but ugh, this would probably classify as an emergency situation.
And I was considering just that, when she suddenly stopped and looked up at me.
"Mmm," she cooed. "I'm like your little kitty cat. Meow."
She went back down and started licking me again, purring like a cat.
Did she just meow into my pussy? I thought.
Yes, she did. Yes, she was. With every lick, she ended with a meow.
Lick, Meow. Lick, Meeeoooow.
Well that did it for me! Five more meows and my buzzer blew.
Ohhhhhhhh my god!!
Cats. Who knew?
I learned a very important lesson that day. You should never assume that someone is going to be good or bad at something soley based on their gender or appearance. It's wrong to stereotype. The other thing I learned is that Armenians are really hairy.
-by Jill Neumann