Books
In an excerpt from her new book,Greedy, Jen Winston recalls a less-than-perfect sexual experience.
Its 1 a.m. and Im slightly buzzed, sitting cross-legged on a womans accent rug.
Her bedroom sparkles, not a speck of dust to be found.
On the surface, I seem comfortable Im sipping a Stella, singing along to Chance the Rapper.
But inside, my brain and ovaries pulsate, both of them consumed by fear.
The womans name is Ria and technically were still on a date.
Weve been hanging out for six hours, so things must be going well.
Thats logical, but it doesnt calm me down.
And I have no idea what to do.
It doesnt help my nerves that Rias fucking hot.
But the thing about her that wrecks me most of all?
Shes the first queer woman who seems to like me back.
Ria and I met months ago, before I came out as bi, at a rooftop happy hour.
and I was almost too enthralled to realize I had a crush.
But a few months later, we matched on a dating app and picked up where wed left off.
Ria joins me on the floor, lights still on.
I feel sweat drip down the back of my neck, and gulp.
its only a matter of time before she finds out that Im Bad At SexTM.
), but I assure you I am.
I cant say Im not bummed.
I worked hard to get good at so-called straight sex.
I shed my gag reflex!
I did my Kegels!
But all that training is now for naught.
Today, Im tasked with what seems like the impossible: Getting another cis woman off.
I tell myself its just a new chapter, and sometimes those are uncomfortable.
But now I have nothing.
My mind runs through the list of things I havent done: I havent scissored.
I havent used a strap on.
I havent made contact with many vaginas aside from my own.
But at least threesomes made me feel comfortable queer hookups seemed less intimidating when a guy was there too.
Or what if I liked it too much, and realized I didnt need men at all?
I swallow, hard.
She removes her beanie, flinging it onto a dresser, and I perk up.
What a time to be alive.
She smirks and pulls me toward her on the bed.
We fumble our way under the covers.
She shimmies her overalls down to her waist, and I move one hand down her body.
Labia lips come in all shapes, colors, and lengths.
Even clit locations vary from person to person.
I decide to wing it.
Who knows maybe Im a natural, a pussy prodigy with an innate sense of direction?
Within seconds, the rest of my arm falls asleep.
Ria, ever-thoughtful, pulls out my hand and sets it aside.
Its fine, she says, though I sense annoyance in her voice.
Let me show you.
Her palm slides down my chest, easily finding its way to my waist.
Only now do I remember.
Oh my god Im on my period.
Ria glares at me.
Our eyes are less than an inch apart I can feel her frustration.
Do you have a tampon in?
Ria rushes through the question.
Her impatience is palpable.
Im an imposition, like an errand she just wants to deal with before she can fall asleep.
I nod, nervous about how shell react.
Thats fine, she assures me.
I can use it.
Within seconds she locates the bottom of the tampon, then presses up, sending it farther inside.
To my shock, it feels amazing.
Whoa, its, ooh
Good?
This continues for thirty minutes and somehow I cum three times.
My gift to you, she says.
The next day she texts me.
Hope you got home ok.
I had fun last night but Im sure you agree that we should prob just be friends, lol.
I stare at my phone and blink.
Nothing good ever followed a Hey-Exclamation-Point, and this is no exception.
But she wants to be friends and shes sure I agree, so I guess that settles it.
Matching her indifference, I punch in:
Hey!
Yeah def lol, thanks for last night and for sending this text.
Down to be friends for sure.
Twenty minutes later she responds with a thumbs-up and I decide to find the silver lining.
Getting rejected by a woman?
Copyright 2021 by Jen Winston.
From GREEDY: Notes from a Bisexual Who Wants Too Much by Jen Winston.
Reprinted by permission of Atria Books, a Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
