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sex diaries

The Lesbian Church Intern Sexing It Up on the Sly

Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar. This week, the Lesbian Church Intern Sexing It Up on the Sly: Female, 21, Camas, WA, intern at church youth group and domestic violence prevention organization, lesbian, in a monogamous relationship.

DAY ONE

7:30 a.m. When I wake up, I know this is going to be the kind of day I can't face without an orgasm, same as my alcoholic grandma needs a glass of vodka before getting out of bed. I'm wrapping up the details of a raft trip for 30 middle- and high-schoolers as part of my job as an intern for my old church youth group. Thoughts of whether I e-mailed the parents about sunscreen almost distract me from making it over the top, but not quite.

8:10 a.m. Facebook photos of my sweet ex-girlfriend in Renn Fayre gear remind me that I could have gone to Reed and gotten really pretentious. Instead I went to Mt. Holyoke and got really really really gay.

2:15 p.m. When I'm standing in line at the Bureau of Land Management for rafting permits, a kid from my church calls and asks me if he can bring a friend on the trip. I want to ask him what part of permission slips due yesterday does he not understand, but I take a deep breath and tell him maybe next year. Is this what being A Real Adult feels like?

4 p.m. I'm driving up the sun-drenched Columbia River Gorge with my smokin' hot butch girlfriend in her truck, thereby fulfilling all my fantasies about what lesbians did from when I was 12. I met Girlfriend through a one night stand on Craigslist "Casual Encounters." I referred to her as "Really Good at Oral Girl" with friends for months as I pretended that I wasn't falling in love with her. Inviting a stranger to come over in the middle of the night and get me off is (a) the sluttiest thing I've ever done and (b) the sketchiest thing I've ever done and (c) the best thing I've ever done, in retrospect. She's six years older than me, and her graying hair gives her a cute Anderson Cooper/daddy vibe. We're talking about one of our favorite topics: Why are the trans folk at my college so crazy? In the gender category of a survey I administered for the health department, I received responses including "feral femme," "tiara," "sparkle lion," and "glitter prince."

7:30 p.m. We arrive at our riverside campsite, and I realize that I forgot batteries for our air mattress pump. Girlfriend is surprisingly tolerant when I do dumb things, like forget to check essential equipment.

11:30 p.m. We wind up nesting in the back of her truck with a pile of blankets. I touch myself thoughtfully, but it's too uncomfortable to ask Girlfriend for a full-on hand job. The heat lightning across the Milky Way kind of makes up for it.

DAY TWO

1 a.m. Oh my God, it's freezing. I wake Girlfriend up and we re-form the blankets into a heat-preserving burrito and I cuddle her real hard for warmth.

11 a.m. I take Girlfriend out for brunch and fill up her car, because she took a day off to drive me down and "protect" me from the drunk bros in the campsite next to us. At the café, sunburned good ol' boys in fishing T-shirts give her stink eye. Butch girls get so much crap. I've got long hair and like skirts, so no one ever ever thinks I'm gay, unless I'm standing right next to Girlfriend and she's got her hand on my butt.

12:47 p.m. After a little bit of convincing, I lure Girlfriend inside the tent. I take off my pants, which is our double secret couples code for sextimes.

12:49 p.m. I guess it's actually naptime?

1:52 p.m. Yeah! Now it's sextimes. Girlfriend is an absolute pro at getting me off, so when she rubs my clit just the way I like (two fingers, one on either side, hard) I come like coming home, five or six times, easy as anything. Then she slides three fingers in me and expertly taps against this one magic spot and I squirt explosively on her leg. We crack up, and that is that. She's not quite stone, but her desire to be gotten off is pretty take it or leave it at the best of times. The threat of impending middle-schoolers has an understandable dampening effect on her libido.

4 p.m. The youth group pulls up in a caravan of Sprite and smug 13-year-old boys. Girlfriend packs up and says good-bye as the parent chaperones explain the difference between a girl friend and a girlfriend without saying the gay word. I wish Girlfriend would take me with her.

DAY THREE

7:11 a.m. I wake up, think about jacking off and decide that the fact that a pastor is in another tent six feet away ruins it.

2:15 p.m. When I'm guiding the paddle raft through the biggest drop on the river, a particularly smug bro falls out. I pull him in using the patented bounce-bounce-flop technique, which ends up with me in the bottom of the raft getting squished by a teenage boy with a boner. Ewwwww.

DAY FOUR

10 a.m. After blueberry pancakes fried in bacon grease, it's time for communion. The Eucharist is my favorite part about this church, mostly because my own private experiences with God have been incredibly visceral and located in the body. I understand my love for God like I understand my love for Girlfriend: a lurch in my stomach, a lightness in my hands, my battered heart going double time.

10:09 a.m. And the worship music ruins any kind of spiritual mood I was trying to summon up.

10:11 a.m. Lyrics: "Come on to me Christ, just come into me/And I neeeeed you to come into me/Wet me all over, Jesus, I need you to make me wet." Huh. Forgot how dirty worship music is.

7:15 p.m. After the youth group is distributed back to their parents, after the 2.5 tons of gear is put away, I wind up in Girlfriend 's bed, naked and showered. She's reading Bastard out of Carolina very intently and so I curl up and fall into a warm half-sleep.

9:17 p.m. Girlfriend likes when I'm sleepy and not trying to rush things like I usually do. She's feeling playful in a way I usually don't see, wiggly and petting me.

9:21 p.m. When she kisses me, I can feel my clit get hard with blood.

10:03 p.m. Her little strap-on harness that looks like men's briefs is so cute.

10:17 p.m. Girlfriend loves missionary and always tucks her head in the nook between my head and shoulder. I wrap my legs around her to pull her in deeper.

10:23 p.m. Her cock feels so strange inside me, but I get off on the foreignness of the sensation. It feels almost violating to have a hard thing inside you, and I pretend that Girlfriend is raping me and I can't push her off. Girlfriend thrusts the head on my favorite spot and I come in waves.

10:27 p.m. "Harder, please?" I ask. "You're too sleepy for that," she says. I love when she protects me, even from myself. I didn't really want to be screwed all that roughly, I just wanted her to tell me no. Sometimes our dynamic is about taking, and taking care. She lets me beg her to stop as she fingers me so hard that I'm sore the next day, even though we both know that the pretended non-consent is for me, not her. I let her roll around and be needy after a few drinks, even though we both know she'd never do that sober. I like how in lesbian relationships, the taking and the taking care of flip-flop. To someone watching us, it would look like she's the big bad top, but what if I'm the one who wants it more?

DAY FIVE

7:21 a.m. Girlfriend showers for work and returns to me touching myself idly. "What do you think you're doing?" she asks. When I was away for college this year, we had a rule that I had to ask for permission before I touched myself. It was so hot to let her have that control over me, but we've gotten super-lax since I've been back for the summer. I guess it's on again? She tells me that I can't touch myself until she gives permission, at some indefinite point in the future. I love when she's all toppy like this and wish there was time for her to do me from behind in cuffs like we did last week. Real jobs suck sometimes.

3:15 p.m. List of things kids have e-mailed me about losing so far: two hats, three bottles of sunscreen, a sleeping bag, sunglasses, a left shoe.

11:48 p.m. I have a sudden burst of late-night horny inspiration and bring up one of my guilty favorite porn movies. I feel like I should be watching ethically produced, queer, feminist porn like the Crashpad Series, but (a) a couple of people I know have performed for them, and (b) it doesn't do it for me. My movie has this nervous looking girl getting inspected and spread for the camera by one guy. More and more guys join until she's completely overwhelmed and crying. Straight porn always seems so much more vicious than queer porn.

12:12 a.m. No! I forgot that I wasn't supposed to be touching myself. Maybe if I don't come it doesn't count? I squirt without coming, my whole body shaking with the ruined orgasm.

DAY SIX

10 a.m. Slaying a database for my internship with a cool domestic-violence-prevention organization at coffeeshop near Girlfriend's house.

3:45 p.m. Still slaying. Girlfriend texts to suggest that we go see the Batman movie.

7:30 p.m. That was a terrible idea. I know my Quaker is showing, but I couldn't stop thinking about the people in Aurora who died watching that movie. Cinematic violence makes me bawl because I worry that it numbs society to real tragedy. I cried through what felt like four hours of fistfights and Anne Hathaway's tiny waist.

7:45 p.m. Because at heart, I'm a fat kid masquerading as a skinny girl, Girlfriend buys me blueberry-lavender ice cream. That and a bowl of fancy pasta from an overpriced food cart makes me feel better.

10:11 p.m. I don't know what it is about this week, but Girlfriend is not feeling the kind of kinky, props-packed, rough sex that I want to have. As she cuddles me, I look at the spreader bar and sigh. Not tonight.

DAY SEVEN

1:20 p.m. It's my in-office day at my domestic-violence internship. My boss shows me pictures of her four-week-old golden lab puppies, which makes me fantasize about having a dog with Girlfriend. Everyone gives me crap about it, but I know I want to marry this girl. There's no one on earth who could challenge me, adore all my insecurities and irrationalities, and get me off like she does. I had a solid slutty phase before I met her, tried out polyamory (not very successfully) and I feel confident that out of everyone out there in the world she will make me the best teammate for life, and the best wife.

5:51 p.m. I arrive at her house. She's talking to her dad, but takes a minute to palm my butt appreciatively through my teeny tiny skirt.

8:22 p.m.We're at Last Thursday on Alberta Street in the Portland and it's packed. Everything smells like funnel cake and the bunches of fresh lavender that people are handing out for free.

8:31 p.m. Girlfriend spots her ex (who has the same name) in a crowd and manages to avoid her.

9:49 p.m. While waiting in an endless line for spinach empanadas, we talk about exes. Girlfriend dated her ex for three years and broke up with her right before we met. I feel extremely intimidated by her because she's a hotshot in the domestic-violence field — is interviewed by cool magazines, travels for DV conferences, writes academic papers. While I've thought about going into that field, now I'll never be able to compete with her. All of her exes are very accomplished, and I know I haven't accomplished much yet, which is a definite bummer. Girlfriend and I both agree that I'm cuter than her, which is nice.

10:11 p.m. She kisses me, and I can feel my panties getting soaked. Oh please please please put your mouth on me tonight.

11:12 p.m. The cuddles are killing me. I try and get Girlfriend to take off her clothes for a handjob, but she's a sleepy cuddly mess.

TOTALS: One jackoff session to orgasm; three orgasmless sessions; four sweet but frustrating cuddle sessions; one gross boy boner; one dirty worship music singing; two times squirting; one guilty porn watching; one foiled handjob; one confidence-boosting interaction with an ex; two appreciative butt handlings; one good make-out; one strap-on-based sex session.

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