#lesbian writings

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

Source: The Exploding Frangipani ; Lesbian Writing From Australia and New Zealand -edited by Cathie Dunsford and Susan Hawthorne

[massiveladyparadise]

I really want you to know how much I love being with you, listening to you, looking at you, smelling you, hugging you, kissing you, sleeping next to you, everything that has to do with you, I love it.

[androgynealienfemme]

Remember when we all agonized over our fantasies? For many years we struggled with the guilt about what we saw behind our closed eyelids. We would talk about our rape fantasies, our fascination with being over-powered. We'd talk with our hands over our eyes about our jerk-off routines. The image that took us by force was often male. We knew that in those guilt-ridden fantasies, the responsibility was no longer ours and there was no consent involved.

Many of us felt like traitors in the grip of, and betrayed by, nonlesbian, unfeminist, and self-destructive sexual fantasies.

The party line, via Andrea Dworkin and, later, Sheila Jeffreys, was that lesbians raised in a hetero-patriarchal society could not help but internalize oppression and turn it into self-hate. Every lesbian was advised to examine and analyze her fantasies, recognize them for the damage they represented, and work to change them. Later (Jeffreys again), the still aroused but guilt ridden were directed to cease fantasizing at all. Apparently divesting oneself of the taint of misogyny was impossible. The only answer was no fantasy at all.

We at our side of the fringe, who looked like we were having a good time in spite of it all, were approached by lesbians who couldn't seem to abide by the no fantasy party line edict. We explained to them that even though many of us might jerk off to gang rape, torture, daddy in our bds, and other undeniably incorrect imagery, it was really nothing to lose sleep over.

We emphasized the simple difference between fantasy and reality. We explained the control we had over our fantasies that we didn't have in the real situations. We did not lust after real rape, real incest, or real torture. The pull was in our ability to finally direct what happened to us. The eroticism, we soothed, was in the power we had for the first time to control the uncontrollable.

Well, we lied. The power is not in the ability to control the violent image. It is in the lust we have to see how close we can get to the edge. It is in the lust to be overpowered, forced, hurt, used, objectified. We jerk off to the rapist, to the Hell's Angel, to daddy, to the Nazi, to the cop, and to all the other images that have nothing to do with the kind of lesbian sex that entails murmurs of endearment, stroking of breasts, and long slow tongue work. And, yes, we also dream of the taking. We dream of some-one's blood in our hands, of laughing at cries for mercy. We wear the uniform and the gun; we haul our cocks out of our pants to drive into a struggling body. Sometimes, we want to give up to the strangler's hands. Sometimes, we need to have a dick as hard as truth between our legs, to have the freedom to ignore "no" or to have our own "no" ignored.

Many of us graduated from the university of self-destruct. Some of us are street survivors, incest survivors. We lived with abusive boyfriends or drifted through years of substance use. We carry many kinds of scars. All of us see ourselves as the "other," as the "alien queer." We each have our own history, but what links us is what we lust after. Those images, that sex, keeps us alive - out of prison and locked wards, abusive relationships, and bad-odd fights in bars.

We don't need to be judged, pitied, or analyzed. We practice the kind of sex in which cruelty has value, where mercy does not. We arrive at places where adrenaline inspires us. What keeps those of us who refused to abandon our "unacceptable" fantasies sane is the knowledge that there are others like us who would not leave because we scream, "Kill me," at the moment we orgasm.

We lied to you about controlling the fantasy. it is the lack of control that makes us come, that has the only power to move us."

-"Sex, Lies, and Penetration: a Butch finally 'fesses up" Jan Brown, The Persistent Desire (edited by Joan Nestle) (1992)

[sleeplessv0id]

what doesn't kill you makes you weird at intimacy

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[genderqueerdykes]

you HAVE to expand what your mental image of what a woman looks like in order to progress past trans/misogyny and intersexism. when you finally accept that "woman" does not have a set look or sound, you free yourself from the chains of both patriarchy and radfem ideals. "woman" does not mean thin, pretty, hairless, short, quiet, large breasted, hour glass figured, weak, submissive, high voiced, or small.

women can and do look, act, and sound like anything. cis, intersex, trans, butch, non binary, gender non conforming, detrans, or anything else: any woman can look, act and sound like anything. we are just as diverse as any other member of this population. in order to acknowledge this, we must let go of the concept that a woman "should" look, act, or sound like anything.

[sapphicslvtt]

Sit on my lap while I gently tease your clit as you tell me about your day?

[tommyohnosworld]

subspace and finger-fucking. thats the post

“sh, let me do the thinking for you, love.”

“you’re doing so good, letting me take care of you.”

“who’s my good girl? that’s right, you’re my good girl.”

“did i say you could do that?”

“you can’t even speak, hm? only let out the prettiest, most breathtaking moans for me? that’s okay, love, i love those.”

“are you so spaced out? my princess looks so pretty for me.”

“god, your pussy is just sucking in my fingers, what if i add more, hm? oh, someone likes that idea.”

“does that feel good? do you need me to go faster, hm?”

“aw, look at you. such a moaning, pathetic mess for me. i bet you feel so good, my fingers in your pussy, rubbing right there, while my thumb is circling your clit. just going faster and faster and faster.”

“you’re so loud, princess. i wonder what the neighbors think, of you practically screaming as i fuck you. i wonder if they can hear how soaked you get when i curl my fingers inside of you.”

“aw, is my girl close? you look like you want to come so bad for me, your hands are just gripping the sheets.”

“go ahead, you know what do to do-ask me if you can come. oh, such a good girl for me, so polite.”

“i’m sorry baby, i just love seeing you so adorable like this. stretched out, dripping onto my hand, head back moaning my name.”

“yes, go ahead, come for me, pretty girl.”

[iandory]

I want us naked under the covers, my fingers teasing your folds and your clit. I want you with your arms around me and burying your face in my neck, trying to focus on just cuddling me but it feels too good that you are whimpering. But you don't have to hide your voice, I want to hear you. You don't have to hide anything cuz I can already feel how wet you are. My God, you feel so good around my fingers

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

Source- Long Time Passing: Lives of Older Lesbians , edited by March Adelman PH.D

[sapphicsecretsblog]

Where are my sensitive subs at? The ones who can't handle multiple orgasms or too many fingers? That gets off on my eyes burning into her as I focus on pleasuring her. Who reaches out her hand for the little ounce of assurance. Yes, my pretty darling. You're doing so, so well for me. As she gets all red and shy for me, struggling to keep her eyes open. All she could think about was my hands all over her body. Treasuring every inch of it. It's okay, baby. Let go for me, you've been such a good girl for mommy. As I coax her into giving me one final orgasm.

[sleeplessv0id]

does anyone else love stickers but never use them because you're too afraid to waste them.

[lemonssarah]

please kiss me while your fingers keep moving in and out of me. i love the feeling of your lips and i know you love it when i have to break the kiss to moan.

[genderqueerdykes]

listen to me: you can love and support trans men and trans women at the same time. you can love and support transmasc and transfemmes at the same time. you do not have to make things into this-or-that decisions. you do not have to turn everything into us-vs-them, friend-vs-enemy, sports team ass dynamics. transfems and transmascs are not at opposite ends of ANYTHING, and we will never, ever be enemies or polar sides that cannot intersect or co-exist peacefully. you can support more than one type of trans person and distribute that support equally. i promise you fucking can.

[mysterycitrus]

[androgynealienfemme]

"I know what butch is. Butches are not beginner FTMs, except that sometimes they are, but it's not a continuum except when it is. Butch is not a trans identity unless the butch in question says it is, in which case it is, unless the tranny in question says it isn't, in which case it's not. There is no such thing as butch flight, no matter what the femmes or elders say, unless saying that invalidates the opinions of femmes in a sexist fashion or the opinions of elders in an ageist fashion. Or if they're right. But they are not, because butch and transgender are the same thing with different names, except that butch is not a trans identity, unless it is; see above."

-"I KNOW WHAT BUTCH IS", Butch is a Noun, Essays by S. Bear Bergman (2006)