During my teen years I crushed on a girl at school. To me she was my best friend and I spent every minute I could with her. Being girls we were allowed to be together in her room or mine and I got to see her boobs many times. I was fixated on her boobs, they were real boobs, round and full with nice nipples. Just thinking about her boobs gives me goose bumps. I touched them and she let wash her boobs if we took a shower together. We were fourteen. I never thought about her nether region.

Later on in high school I got hung up on this girl who played Lacrosse. She was beautiful and athletic, tall and slim, very hard bodied, worked out a lot. I was her tutor because her grades kept slipping. And yes, I saw her naked, totally naked, she never let me shower with her, but she would change in front of me, and go topless when we studied. Her boobs were more like man's chest, just a bit bigger. Her nipples were like a man's nipples, small. But her legs and ass and she shaved close because of her sport let me see her nether region in detail. I had never focused on that area before, but she had a habit of standing in front of me naked and giving me a full view of her lady area. Not nice, but also real, was that she bent over one day at her waist and I got a full view of lady area and her butt hole. Just a second, or maybe two seconds, but forever seared into my brain. That was the first time I really felt I needed to lick her there. But I didn't, I never even said anything.

She turned out to be flaming gay and aggressive and got in trouble late for getting involved with a younger girl she coached. But at that time we were both juniors in high school.

I studied art at school, and spent a lot of time drawing the female figure. I never cared about the male figure, although we had to draw those as well. I had a 'friend', a girl from my History class, who let me draw her naked, but I disguised her face. She would pose for me, she told me that it made her feel 'funny' to be naked like that and me paying minute attention to her nipples or the folds of her lady area. And yes, she opened her legs for me, wide open, but I never drew that, it was like a way of releasing energy, spreading herself open like that, until ne day I told her if she did it again I was going to bite her there. Of course you don't bite, you just put your mouth all over her, and your tongue just sort of opens her up and searches for her vagina and she grabs your head when you start to kiss her clitoris and you get wet as hell as she goes into an orgasm and you realize your a pussy eater and she likes having you eat her pussy. She ate my pussy too, it was our first queer experience together, she modeled it all for me and she kept the drawings.

We became lovers, dated, hung out together, and spent every free moment naked in bed together. Any time of day, between classes we would go to her room or mine, whichever was free of our roommate and eat out or grab boobs, or just go at each other kissing and thrusting our tongue down to our tonsils. It lasted forever, semesters went by and we roomed together, we eventually came out to our families. We were actively queer on campus, but for whatever reason we did not get into the activist stage. But if you are queer on campus, you get drug into a lot of things you don't care about.

We left school with out little degrees and migrated back to my home town and took little jobs that were offered and had to be modestly queer. We were poor, our jobs didn't really pay much, and my parents provided us with a place to live and one car. We were 28 and still couldn't pay all our bills.

I had a boss, a man who chased me and told me that I shouldn't be gay, I would tell him I was queer and gay was anoth3r thing, queer to me meant I was with someone I cared about but I wasn't political. Gay to me was political. Anyway, and this is where our lives went upside down, he came to our apartment one evening after work and demanded that I make him some coffee and he sat down and forced us to talk to him. He told me, he spoke and I had no choice but to listen, that he wanted me and he intended to have me, that night. He wasn't leaving until I 'gave' myself to him, he wanted me for his 'pleasure'. He spoke to us, both of us sitting at the kitchen table and he told me he wanted me for his pleasure.

Finally he said 'now' and got up and took me by the arm back to our room and told me that he wasn't going to be denied what he wanted, it wasn't his fault that I was queer, but queer or not I was born to give him pleasure and to fulfill my destiny of serving him and being his. He would own me, sorry for all that but he was taking possession of what was meant to be his and I was to give up to him. His hands on me were hot, hot and strong and rough and his hands on my breasts made me get incredibly wet, his embrace and his hand down my pants grabbing me and his mouth on mine and his tongue splitting my lips open, and being undressed and spread open and feeling his penetration, my first penetration by a man, made me lose consciousness for a moment, and then he thrust hard and told me that he was filling me with his sperm and he expected me to reciprocate by giving him my eggs. Not romantic at all, but he drove his point home. I was going to go on and be pregnant.

The master of the house owns his female, in our case his females. We found our 'home', sometimes we laugh at his caring on, but this is when he is not there, it is just funny to us how he holds on to us, as if we were ever going to leave, he doesn't so much own us as we belong to him. Our silly 'queer thing' doesn't get in the way of his purpose for us. He is the King, and we are his princesses, we are here for his pleasure. And when the house is quiet and we get a moment we fall into these long embraces and remind ourselves as to why we are together, the queer thing taking over, we don't so much belong to him as we belong to each other.