True Cunt Stories
tatiana de la tierra
The first time I had real, official lesbian sex I fooled my suitor, a seasoned dyke whom I’d trailed secretly and incessantly until she led me to her king-size waterbed. All it took was a 3 a.m. moonlit skinny dip in a cold lake, a few hits of marijuana, and two decades of desire. I was hers, a 21 year-old instant fuck, a fresh groovy girl aching to be indoctrinated. At the time I had a boyfriend with a big dick I enjoyed fucking, an engineering student who liked to wear black lace panties and pretend he was a she. I moaned and rolled on that bed with fake satin sheets as she fingered my clit and watched me. By sunrise I was a man-hating-lesbian and a witch-in-the-making. Finally!
Along with my newfound freedom I discovered an incredible knack for good sex and sick relationships. That first lover, with big white freckled breasts and a collection of long, split-ended hairs, got out quick. She liked the chase and the hot hand work, but she scurried after she had psychic visions of my bratty bitch potential.
Ditched and dedicated to keeping my pussy in action, I cast a spell to attract another lover. She literally knocked on my door, a hazel-eyed tomboy with a wide tongue and long inner lips. She was new in town and she liked getting high and eating me. I liked being eaten and delving into her firm rosy tits. The only problem, as I would reluctantly discover, was that she was a budding psychopath. One day, she held me hostage as I was leaving for school, and on another occasion she tried to smother me in my sleep. After a few other Charles Manson transformations that ended with frantic 911 calls to the police, I moved out of town, far from her clutches.
My cunt, along with the rest of me, was just beginning to wake up. No matter what I did, one of my priorities was getting it touched and filled and talked to. I went to extremes to fulfill my mission and continued to fuck and emotionally entangle myself with a variety of women. One was a tall jock, flat-chested and hairy with a girly laugh, solid biceps and enchanting musky pits. The only way she could come was by grinding ferociously on my knuckles, upside down. I could deal with that, but not with her ex lover, who followed us around and eventually won her back.
Then there was the lumberjack separatist who scrutinized my every move, kissed me with blackberry lips, and chilled me with her sour anger. Another one, even angrier, was an alcoholic artist, a burly top who handcuffed me to a New York City street sign and fucked me right there in the springtime. One night she opened her wide legs and defenses and let me fist-fuck her. She stole my grandmother’s emerald ring, drank a gallon of Chivas, and claimed my only leather jacket as her trophy.
There was another alcoholic, a seemingly sophisticated, long-legged and frightened being who taught me that not all photographers are creative. She wouldn’t eat my wet pussy or any other slimy thing, and she was such a loser and a lousy fuck that I became frigid. Another one was an adventurous separatist and musician who stole from stores. She had long brown hair that graced the crack of her sweet copper ass and fucked me with a French accent. I wrote her a song that l never sang her.
A few really loved me. One showered me with sushi and Godivas and fulfilled my every wish. Another drew me with her pain and her real-woman-with-curves-and-swollen-pussy games. Another one, the sweetest of all, put playful elves on my pillow and left a trail of sparks with every step.
A few transformed me. One challenged my woman-of-color identity as she gave me every piece of her full-womanly-soft butch body. She would ram me with any object within her reach and when we broke up she threw Greek cucumbers at me, the same ones she fucked me with, from her nine-story apartment. She had a delicious charcoal silk ass. Another one made me talk during sex in proper Spanish and taught me dramatic sexual technique. I learned to writhe and scream and beg and open wide. She penetrated every single mystery, even the ones I didn’t know about. She made me cry, she fucked me so good. Another one took me a step further when she made me lick her strapped on dick and then let me suck her shamefully hardened nipples. She hated being a woman, and I loved her for letting me in on her secret.
My current lover, she didn’t know the mess she was getting into that first time when she fucked me from behind. Pretty soon I was sitting on her face, making wooded futuristic sounds and falling in love. She has sex with solid mountain strength and files her coconut hard teeth on my head. She heats up every time the wind stirs and strives to fuck me deeply into oblivion or unconsciousness, whichever comes first.
de la tierra, tatiana. “True Cunt Stories.” conmoción 2 1995: 34-35. Also published as: “True Cunt Stories.” Hot & Bothered: Short Fiction on Lesbian Desire. Ed. Karen X. Tulchinsky. Vancouver: Arsenal Pulp. 1998: 128-130.