In both high school and college I had various sexual affairs with other girls. Always older girls. After college things cooled off. At my mother’s insistence I took up painting, a hobby I’d had since childhood. I went into abstract expression. In a couple of paintings I hid drawings of girl’s nude silhouettes. I later painted over them.
One night I painted from memory a girl’s legs apart with exaggerated sex. I destroyed the painting. Over the months I repeated these nude silhouettes, and after taking pictures of my exposed vulva, I painted several examples. I kept those. My mother found them one day when she was cleaning my room while I was out.
After a couple of sessions with a sex therapist I confessed that I had sexual relations with other girls. She asked me if I was lesbian, I told her I don’t know.
To make things more complicated I ran into a boy from high school. I drew a quick sketch of a vulva, asked him if he showed me his dick, I would sketch it. We ended up having sex.
And that’s my problem. I liked it, but I prefer dating a girl. I had sex with a girl a day later. I know what I like. Now I’m pregnant.
