Contrary to popular belief, I have not been hauled off to a deserted island by a pack of lesbians and forced to preside over their sunbathing and lovemaking rituals.
I can totally understand why people might think that.
I'm very experienced in sunbathing and may have dabbled in the arena of lovemaking. Allegedly.
Truth is, I've been remiss in my Lesbiatopia postings for no other reason than I haven't figured out how add hours to my day.
Apparently, the only way one can add more hours to the day is to agree to less sleep.
Those who know me personally know this is not a good solution. Even in theory it's enough to make my girlfriend April turn pasty white and start shaking. My patience level is directly correlated to the number of hours I spend in REM.
Frankly, April is a saint to put up with me at all. Especially given she's the subject of most of my posts.
This one is no different.
We've been so exhausted lately that there's been no hanky panky. If we manage to pull the bedspread down, we're doing good.
Several nights passed without us even giving each other a good night peck. That's a rarity.
Fearing lesbian bed death, April decided we should, at the very least, kiss each other good night. A good plan, given when she leaned in to kiss me, we looked like two pre-teen girls sharing our first encounter. Our noses mashed and I think she ended up kissing more of my chin than my lips.
"Dude! Is it possible we've forgotten how to kiss each other?!" I feigned horror.
"Nope," she said, in her matter-of-fact way. "You just kissed me wrong. My lips have to be on top of yours."
"My lips have to be on top of yours to make it work right."
"So, you are telling me that your lips are a top?"
"I guess I am."