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The first time I realized I had feelings for another girl, I didn't understand them. It was Lilly Bumgarten. She had long brown hair and dark brown eyes. She also had two older sisters. We were 11 the year we first found her sister Jenny's diary. It was an endless source of fascination and anxiety for me. I wanted so badly to be cool that I had to pretend I knew what everything meant so Lilly wouldn't see how dumb I really was. I am an oldest child and I would daydream for hours on end about having an older sister or brother who would teach me what eating out and second base really meant. I used to spend every weekend at Lilly's house. At age 11, I would wake up early (a trait I have definitely outgrown) and wait impatiently for everyone else to wake up so I could go home. I was never really comfortable at other people's houses. One morning I woke up at 7 a.m. and lay there silently, staring at the ceiling and holding my breath, waiting for Lilly to stir so she could come upstairs with me and call my mom to come rescue me. That was the fateful morning that I looked over at her and had the overwhelming desire to kiss her. I didn't understand what I was feeling. I merely thought I had finally found my true best friend—someone I really cared about. I wanted to stroke that long hair and gently kiss her soft, smooth cheek. But I didn't dare. Instead I lay silent, praying she would hurry up and wake. After that I thought about Lilly often. I began actually looking forward to the weekends when I could stay at her house. Lilly and her older sisters began to be a steady stream of excitement for me. The secrets of sex seemed to be hidden between the locked up pages of Jenny's diary.  The next weekend I eagerly agreed when Lilly asked me to spend the night. Everyone in her family was going out and we were going to be left alone. Her parents called mine to ask if it was okay and my Mom agreed to call and check on us to make sure we were behaving ourselves. We got in our jammies and innocently said goodbye to her mom, dad and two sisters. We watched with bated breath as the car swerved out of the driveway, waiting silently until the headlights disappeared into the blackness.A full five minutes after they left we ran upstairs and into Jenny's room. Lilly opened her underwear drawer and, standing on tiptoes, she fished out the diary. We sat on Jenny's bed, our thighs pressed against one another, each of us with a hand on the precious book. Lilly flipped through the pages so we could start up where we had last left off. I remember that diary entry so clearly. Jenny talked about kissing her boyfriend, about him eating her out (I had no clue what that was) and then how she went home and masturbated. "Do you masturbate?" Lilly asked me. I remember not even knowing if I ever had, but I had been asked this question at school. Kelly B., this bitch, had gone around asking everyone if they masturbated and if they said "no" she squawked and told everyone you didn't have pubic hair, but if you said "yes" she told everyone you were a slut. The virgin/slut paradigm wrapped up in one horrible sixth grade experience. Because of this I wasn't sure how to answer this question. But Lilly sat there, staring at me, waiting for me to answer. "Do you?" I countered. I didn't want to be the first one to say anything. She looked at me thoughtfully. Still I didn't say anything. It was a silent duel to see who would talk first.  "I don't think so," Lilly said finally. She looked embarrassed and it occurred to me that maybe I wasn't as out of it as I thought. Maybe having an older brother or sister wouldn't solve all of my problems.I sat there solemnly, unsure of what to say. Part of me wanted to comfort her while some other evil part wanted to act like I knew more than she did and make her feel stupid. The only problem was I didn't feel like I did know more than her; I was so insecure I didn't know what to do. My grandfather had a saying that my mom used to tell me over and over—"It's better to let people think you're a fool than to open your mouth and prove them right." So I just sat there—staring at my hands, folded innocently into a tiny steeple in my lap, and I waited for her to make the first move. Lilly squinted at me and I began to sense that my charade wasn't going over too well. I just didn't have that vibe of self-confidence. I wasn't projecting anything strong. I realized that my silence wasn't necessarily making her think that I knew more than she did, or that I masturbated often. Instead, I probably seemed even more scared and anxious—which I was. "Do you want to try it?" Lilly asked me. I wasn't sure that I did. But peer pressure has always been a great enemy of mine, so I said "sure." I was so frightened and excited about taking my clothes off in front of her that I was locked on the bed. "Let's get under the covers," I said suddenly, as if that would dissolve the terror of being a first time, age 11, exhibitionist. Lilly agreed, and we got into Jenny's bed. I looked over at Lilly, who was rustling around. I assumed she was taking off her pants and I almost regretted having suggested that we hide under blankets. I was very curious to see what she looked like and compare her to me. I wanted to know if she had pubic hair and if she looked more like me, my mom, or my younger sister—the only other three women I had ever seen naked. I pulled down my pajama bottoms and ran my fingers over my still pre-pubescent pussy. It felt slick and sticky like the skin of a wet seal and I drew little circles around it with my fingers. "Are you doing it?" Lilly asked me. "Yeah," I answered, "Are you?" "Yeah," she said. "But I can't tell if it's working." "Me neither," I giggled. Suddenly I was filled with another surge of love for my friend. "Do you know what's supposed to happen?" She looked at me thoughtfully for a moment. "It's supposed to feel good," she said.  I relaxed a bit and moved my fingers more inside my lips. I thought of the way my mom always said "vagina." I didn't like that word; there was nothing fun about it. A "vagina" was something that could cause you problems, in Jenny's diary she used words like "pussy" and her "cunt." Those words sounded as if they belonged to the thing I was playing with now. This was not my mother's vagina. I slowly petted the inside with long strokes. I looked over at Lilly. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly parted. I watched as her tiny chest heaved up and down with her breathing. Hurriedly, I closed my eyes as well, thinking that would bring me to the place where I was supposed to be.I was right. Closing my eyes allowed me to enter into myself. It was then that my finger found the super sensitive nub at the top of my pussy. I moved over it and jumped at the sensation. I began to rub harder and faster, liking the way it felt. I inhaled sharply. I was afraid of doing it too much. I was afraid that it would make me have to pee. I held my vagina with my hand, frightened to move my finger over it anymore. I opened my eyes a tiny bit. Lilly still had hers closed and was breathing heavy. I lay there and watched. She looked so pretty. I was amazed. Her cheeks were growing flushed and her eyeballs were moving like pinballs under her lids. She sighed and I quickly looked away. I didn't want to get caught staring at her. She opened her eyes and looked over at me. I was staring at the ceiling. I remember Lilly telling me she wasn't gay. I was mortified—convinced that she thought I was. I felt horrible. I hadn't really put a term to the things I had been feeling for Lilly but now that she had, I wondered if maybe I wasn't. I wondered if that was really what I was and I was scared. I also wasn't sure if I had done the masturbating right. I wished I could just be honest and stop caring about what other people thought. But it would take me years to come to terms with my sexual identity. We put away the diary and went down to the basement to watch TV. My mom called a few minutes later and asked us what we had been doing. I had the sneaking suspicion that what we had been doing was bad so I stammered and said "nothing." A phrase I would grow quite fond of during my teenage years. Lilly and I never talked about that day. But when I had my first real lesbian experience it was the one thing that came flooding back to me. I am amazed at my innocence back then, and happy I've lost it.
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