dirty girl

I had a dream the other night that is still haunting me with its dark humor and strange depth.
Although first off we must get the facts out there. I am not a full fledged lesbian. In fact, I do not believe that I am any sort of lesbian at all. I like kissing them from time to time and that is about it. well, read on and you will see.
I was on a bed in a pale yellow room with nothing interesting about it save the fact that it was small. I was kissing the most beautiful middle eastern woman ever and her girlfriend was sitting in the chair at the end of the bed, watching. As I kissed the girl I became aware of the way she smelled and I started to panic. I could feel her pushing her body up against mine, trying to force my attention to her vagina..."Oh God," I thought. the last thing I want to do is go down on this girl...but isn't that what she wanted me to do? isnt that what lesbian girls do? was her girlfriend noticing my hesitancy? Am I being rude? As I pondered my situation, The girl pulled away from my embrace and pushed me back on the bed and then stomped out of the room. I sat there stunned for a moment and then looked over at the girlfriend and suddenly noticed her appearance. she had a round face and high forehead, complete with rosy cheeks and blond straight hair, pulled back into a junior high ponytail. she was wearing an old lady blouse that as I watched, she began to remove. underneath she had on a black lacy bra and her tits were just spilling out over the top, crowning the chubby body that bordered on voluptuous. she moved toward me and we began to kiss and this time, I was enjoying it, I was getting excited. especially when she told me her little secret: she could not get off on oral sex alone and felt as though she was living a lie. she pulled out a double ended dildo and told me that she wanted to have sex. She handed the toy to me and I just sat there holding it awkwardly. I did not know what to do. I did not feel comfortable using it and then suddenly realized that I was no longer turned on. I tried to pretend that it was and set it on her stomach and began rubbing it back and forth over her bellybutton. she shuddered in disgust and pulled away from me while telling me calmly that this was why she hated women. they were too unsure of themselves and not aggressive enough. I was indifferent to this information and proceeded to ask her what she was going to do about the girlfriend she had in the other room. she sighed and told me that she did not know what to do because she had a male lover that she saw from time to time. a lover whose presence she was finding it increasingly more difficult to hide from her girlfriend seeing as how he was made of moths and everytime he came to visit her, he left moth residue all over the walls. She then began to tell me that fucking him was great because she could feel the moths moving inside her. as she spoke I began to look around at the walls and could see the moth carcasses stuck to the walls dead and in the final throes of dying, their bodies gyrating, their wings fluttering as their smooshed guts kept them glued to the pale yellow paint. I suddenly realized that I had to get out of there. I got up and fled from the room only to find the girl I had offended originally lying on a yellow beanbag, tears streaming from her eyes. It was then that i realized how beautiful she was. I looked at her blue green eyes framed with thick, straight dark lashes, her short dark hair shining in the light that was streaming in from the window lighting up her olive skin, bringing attention to her dark, perfectly shaped eyebrows and rosy cheeks glowing beneath the smooth light brown of her skin. I had the overwhelming urge to console her and so I crouched down, leaning into her face, smelling her scent and told her how beautiful she was. how radiant she seemed when she had tears in her eyes. she lashed out in anger and hurt and told me to leave her alone and though I wanted to stay and make her feel better, I stood, feeling my knees creak in protest and made my way out through the kitchen door and into the cold sunlight, the only thing on my mind the desire to be what I am not. a lesbian. I wanted to hold her and give her the love she needed. I wanted to hold her beauty and revel in it yet I could not because I knew that despite the moment I was in and the empathy I felt, I still craved the crass, rough sexuality of the man. always have always will...against my better judgment. against all odds and against all the past pain inflicted on my person I still crave the company and sexual attention of the man.

The funny thing about this dream is that i believe that i may not have only been myself, I may also have been the beautiful girl as well. not to say that i am beautiful but to say that I know her pain. I know what it is like to be rejected and confused.
maybe I was the curvy blond as well, dirty and confused, craving the seemingly "disgusting" touch of a man.
who knows. all I know is that the damned dream has haunted me.