Hippie Lesbians don’t shave either end
by Marie LeClare
I remember what a neighbor lady said to me when I was little:
“Molly, you have the map of Ireland written all over your face!”
I ran to the loo to look in the mirror, and all I could see was my flaming red hair and freckles.
I had the misfortune to get preggers when I was 12, the first and only time I had sex with a boy, and along came Sally. With some help from my parents I raised Sally as best I could. Sally came to know that I was a lesbian by the time she reached 13.
The very first time Sally caught me masturbating she thought I was in pain by the look on my face, but I explained that it was the most pleasurable thing a woman could do, and that I loved touching my pussy.
I don’t know what I was thinking but I carefully explained what masturbation was and how much fun it was to touch her pussy and soon Sally was an avid masturbator, just like her mom.