Lesbian Experience Stories Novels & Stories

They learned to hold space for each other's pain, to celebrate each other's breakthroughs, to trust in the slow, messy, non-linear process of healing. One of the most powerful moments of the year came during a workshop on storytelling. A young woman named Maria, a social worker from a community that had been devastated by gang violence, had been struggling for months to find her voice, to speak about the trauma she had witnessed and experienced. In the safe space of the workshop, she finally began to tell her story, not in words, but in a series of powerful, raw, and deeply moving drawings.

“You speak as if you’ve got experience in sex, young lady.” His whisper brought butterflies in my stomach, an electricity I have never felt in my system. Only now that he’s near me. “C-Cause I am. I am not a virgin anymore.” I confessed. He looked so shocked. “I didn’t know. Who was the lucky man, then?” “My ex-boyfriend. The first one. He fucked good, by the way.” “Not as good as I do, for sure.” I smirked. “Really? I don’t think so,”

she asked, wanting to go sit by herself and watch the action. “Tell me ladies, have either of you ever eaten pussy?” Damon asked, ignoring the bra. Julia scoffed and shook her head. “We’re not lesbians Damon,” she said, then looked at Bree, who raised one eyebrow and shrugged. “I have once,” Bree admitted, “but I was a teenager and I was kind of drunk.” “Seriously?” Julia asked, a shocked look on her face. “You’ve never told me that.” “It’s not exactly something that you brag about you know. I’m not proud of the fact that I had sex with a woman twice my age when I was nineteen years old.”

Anna kept licking me through every wave until I was shaking and oversensitive, almost whimpering. She uncuffed one wrist, rolled us, and pulled me on top of her so our wet cunts pressed together. She gripped my ass hard and forced the friction, our clits sliding with every deep grind of our hips. We moved against each other, kissing messily, until I came a third time, grinding down, and she followed with a low broken sound against my neck. Anna traced a slow line down my stomach, her fingers still shiny with me. “You’re still going to write the story, aren’t you?”

It was strange but she kept the feeling that she was only going out with her friend. Lorna stopped at a secluded table at a corner. “My favorite spot.” Karen could imagine that she brought all the ladies she had fucked to the restaurant. Martini was served. When Lorna stared at her, Karen felt she was naked or she could see through her. “Yesterday was great,” she started. Karen sipped Martini. “Yeah.” She was screaming. That was great. “I’ve been a lesbian for four years…and I’ve met quite a lot of ladies I liked.” She chuckles. Some were like you before I initiated them- proud of myself.”

It started to do weird things to my system. We walked past the Jogging Grandma, who had just returned from her daily run. "Is that your girlfriend?" she whispered to me because apparently everyone in the building knew about three lesbians from Russia living in Apartment 2B having a girlfriend, except they didn't know which one. Trust me, I didn't know which one either. "No, she's everyone else's girlfriend," I whispered back. "She only drops by every now and then to let me do her work." We found Celie bending over on the counter. Why was she leaning like that?

Listening to other patients — wealthy executives who had destroyed marriages through sex addiction, celebrities who had lost everything to escorts and orgies, normal people whose lives had spiraled out of control — made me see my own story with horrifying clarity. When it was my turn to share, I spoke for nearly forty minutes, voice trembling, about how I had started as Liam’s curious girlfriend exploring fantasies and ended up as the Gangbang Princess who threw away the love of her life for the thrill of being used by dozens of men. One older man in the group looked at me with kind but firm eyes and said,

something was catching at my mind, something familiar; something inside told me to be careful. She nibbled at the soft skin above my pussy and I quivered, feeling a throb inside me of almost orgasmic strength, and felt my wetness trickling down my bare thigh. I felt lips nibbling, a tongue stroking – and a hesitation. My thoughts leapt into focus – I knew where I had felt this before. Most lesbians and bisexual women have encountered it. The "do I like this taste?" pause, followed by the "can I really do this" hesitation.

It was clear that they had experienced something similar. They had told stories of them getting attacked in the middle of nowhere and left for dead. Others talked about how they had been stripped of everything and humiliated. If anything, Nightmare was consistent in the misery and anguish he inflicted on others. Eva looked around at them, and realized that most of them were women. She shouldn’t have been surprised at that, but she was. The both of them sat down and listened to all the speakers, and at some point Eva was asked to share her story.

She nodded, "true... we still have to work towards that and teach that to our community. We are all different and encode or accept things differently.. worse we come from different backgrounds and upbringing. So they shouldn't judge you because you slept with a man ata certain stage before coming in contact with your true self." I took the glass and sipped on the drink a bit feeling so good that dhe understood me, "exactly... God Meagan... it's so sickening to hear them talk about a lesbian woman who has kids as if they are talking about someone who sleeps around with men. They act so pure as if they never encountered one hatred from this world. They know the pressure we all face. Yet they s