(no subject)
This story has recently come to pass, and since it holds a great moral, I feel I must share it with you all:
A girl looked around her bedroom, thinking to herself I am who I was last year, I am bi, not lesbian. She may not have believed herself, but oh did she want to. The girl wanted nothing more than to be what people consider normal, which meant being straight. Life would be easier, less stress, less taunting, less everything. She wished this more than anything. She found herself laying on her back on her bed one night, between the legs of her lover, a young man. Turning around onto her stomach, determined to prove to herself, to the world, that she was normal, not completely gay, she looked up into her lover's face. While she crawled up his chest, carassing him, she wondered why she was doing this. This confused girl found that she could not bring herself to kiss him, fully, and whenever he persisted, she turned away. As she pleased him, she wondered why she ever did this, what did she get out of it. She remembered all the other times she had done this, all the other times she had given him and others oral, handjobs and other treats to make men happy, and she remembers how she never wanted to. Pretending to tease him, she stopped what she was doing abruptly, unable to do any more, and again lay on her back between his legs, dozing and watching a movie. She allows him to please her, to feel her, even encouraging him to do it. all the while assuring herself that she likes it. Pretending to be pleased, she allows him to fetch a condom. While he takes off his pants and she hers, two voices in her head consult her. Do not do this, you do not want to...please dont, you shall regret it, shouts one, while the other says Why not have sex? Are you a lesbian, unable to bear the weight of a man? Are you different or like everyone else? With his every thrust her mind shouts I AM NORMAL while she cries softly to herself, head turned away from her lover, ashamed. Afterwards she curls into a ball, hot, salty tears streaming down her face, not able to look him, not able to bear the thought of what she had just done. For an hour she stays like this, unmoving, not talking, just silently crying. Her lover does not disturb her, and while she rested there by herself, all that came to mind was what had taken place moments before. Resigned, she thinks one last thought. If I had not denied what I knew to be true about myself, I would not have come to regret my actions.
The moral of this story is never to deny yourself, but to let yourself bloom into whatever you were meant to be.
A girl looked around her bedroom, thinking to herself I am who I was last year, I am bi, not lesbian. She may not have believed herself, but oh did she want to. The girl wanted nothing more than to be what people consider normal, which meant being straight. Life would be easier, less stress, less taunting, less everything. She wished this more than anything. She found herself laying on her back on her bed one night, between the legs of her lover, a young man. Turning around onto her stomach, determined to prove to herself, to the world, that she was normal, not completely gay, she looked up into her lover's face. While she crawled up his chest, carassing him, she wondered why she was doing this. This confused girl found that she could not bring herself to kiss him, fully, and whenever he persisted, she turned away. As she pleased him, she wondered why she ever did this, what did she get out of it. She remembered all the other times she had done this, all the other times she had given him and others oral, handjobs and other treats to make men happy, and she remembers how she never wanted to. Pretending to tease him, she stopped what she was doing abruptly, unable to do any more, and again lay on her back between his legs, dozing and watching a movie. She allows him to please her, to feel her, even encouraging him to do it. all the while assuring herself that she likes it. Pretending to be pleased, she allows him to fetch a condom. While he takes off his pants and she hers, two voices in her head consult her. Do not do this, you do not want to...please dont, you shall regret it, shouts one, while the other says Why not have sex? Are you a lesbian, unable to bear the weight of a man? Are you different or like everyone else? With his every thrust her mind shouts I AM NORMAL while she cries softly to herself, head turned away from her lover, ashamed. Afterwards she curls into a ball, hot, salty tears streaming down her face, not able to look him, not able to bear the thought of what she had just done. For an hour she stays like this, unmoving, not talking, just silently crying. Her lover does not disturb her, and while she rested there by herself, all that came to mind was what had taken place moments before. Resigned, she thinks one last thought. If I had not denied what I knew to be true about myself, I would not have come to regret my actions.
The moral of this story is never to deny yourself, but to let yourself bloom into whatever you were meant to be.