Glitter. Real Stories About Sexual Desire From Real Women by Mona Darling, Lauren Fleming, Lynn Lacroix, Tizz Wall, Penny Barber, Hopper James, Elis Bradshaw, Delilah Night, Kate Anon, Nina Potts

conservative small town. The conservative part meant that there were tremendous expectations of premarital chastity and heterosexuality and the small-town part meant that there was a lot of sex happening, much of it casual.
     
     
    It wasn’t a great idea, and I knew it. Miranda was straight; even if she hadn’t been, she didn't like me much. Still, when she pointed at me and announced to our friends that I'd be sleeping with her that night, I didn't protest. I followed her up the stairs to her room, I slipped into her bed.
    Bad idea or not, I wanted it. I'd known I was bisexual for years by the time I found myself in Miranda's bed, and I had made good headway into the world of boys. Boys were easy. Girls, though, were tricky. I'd taken part in my female friends' sexual experiments but it had never gone beyond kissing and copping a feel over their shirts. They usually brushed my hand away; that’s how it is when you're trying to get some from straight girls.
    By the time Miranda announced that she was taking me into her bed that night, I was long overdue for some girl action. I’d only drunk once before, and whatever had been in the red cup someone handed me trickled straight down between my legs. Heat and liquor spread through my crotch, and while a few clumsy spin-the-bottle kisses took the edge off, I couldn't wait to get upstairs and into her bed. And her pants.
    I hadn't given much thought to Miranda before that night, but once I had my hands on her I realized just how much I loved her body. Lean and lithe with an androgynous streak, her figure posed a stark contrast to my rounded lines. Compact breasts at the top of her chest, skin tight over her hipbones. I covered one of her breasts with my palm while I kissed her, then leaned down and took her nipple into my mouth. Her skin rippled with goosebumps as I drew tiny circles with the tip of my tongue.
    Tentatively, I moved my hand down and nudged my fingers under her waistband. I paused to gauge her reaction. So far so good; I pressed further, grazing her pubic hair. The Brazilian hadn't yet come into vogue, and her bush was full and thick. Luxurious. She tensed as my fingers passed over her clit, then relaxed as I gave a few light strokes. I opened her up and pushed one finger inside of her. She was so, so warm inside. Soft and thick and sticky.
    I took her pants off and put them at the foot of her bed. My first licks were small and shy. I'd like to say I was teasing her and building tension, but the reality is that never having gone down on a woman before, I just didn't know what I was doing. I needed to start out slow. I was surprised at how different our pussies looked. Miranda had short labia that fanned out far in the middle, making a pink half-moon, mine were thick all the way along their length and dusty purple.
    As desire overpowered my inexperience, I grew bolder and more animated. I traced her whole pussy with my tongue, testing different textures. Wet skin, slick hair, the hard little bump of her clit. I pushed my tongue inside of her and tasted meat and salt. Miranda coated my tongue.
    She moved underneath me and I wanted so badly to make her come. I used my fingers, my mouth; when I came up for air I kissed her so she could taste herself. I returned to her breasts, breathing on them so her nipples stood up and her gooseflesh came back. I loved watching her body respond to me.
    The drinks I'd had and the newness of the positions – so different from being with a boy – combined and made my head spin. Kissing my way back up her body, I laid back on my pillow for a moment, one hand still stroking her breasts. Miranda reached between my legs and began to stroke me. Lightly, gently, then a little quicker. It didn't take long, just a minute or two; I came. Hard, clenching her hand between my legs, rocking my hips back and forth with every last little shudder. The last thing I remember is wanting to make her feel what I'd just felt, to make her come and cry