The Art Of Lesbian Lovemaking

I know that Cheyenne was dying to ask me! How it works. Lesbian sex (not love, that is).

Of course she wouldn’t dare. On the other hand she isn’t stupid, and for sure she has enough imagination to have a rough idea about the mechanics. Let alone all the stuff you can read about it. Which usually is completely bullshit, as least where I’m concerned.

I stopped reading these sort of books lately. I find them completely useless, and, more important, ultimately stupid and wrong. These lesbian romance novels, I mean. They are as much nonsense as their straight counterparts are.

It’s not only me who never encountered this kind of romantic “lovemaking”, I actually don’t know anybody who did. Lesbian writers like Georgia Beers and so many others produce fiction, romantic fiction that has little to do with real life. Don’t get me wrong: We all need a little romance and writing this stuff has it’s merits. Just not for me. When I write about Mazikeen (or J. and her life) then I’m well aware, that there is a difference between sex and love. A big one. That’s probably the reason I don’t get jealous. We fuck around, for sure we do, but you can’t “love around”, that’s just not possible. While I don’t believe on souls and fate and all this stuff, we find this one person we are perfectly aligned with (or so we think). Maze had found me, while I have Joana. Nothing perfect about it – it’s just the way our lives turned out; and in the end we go along quite well with it. Real love for us is the ability to quite literally die for each other. Maze would say “take me, spare her”, and I would do the same for Joana (it’s her who has to survive). And as long as we respect and “love” each other the common way, it works just fine.

In the absence of jealousy life gets so much easier.