How I lost my best friend after alcohol-fueled lesbian sex – Lady writes
A lady is currently regretting her action after alcohol-fueled lesbian sex with her best friend ruined their age-long relationship.
According to the lady who sent an anonymous letter to Claire Blackmore of Metro UK, she realised her friend had always crushed on her after the sex they had, but she didn’t want anything of such as it was just an experiment on her own side.
She had to cut off ties with her friend, which she surely regrets doing.
Read her story below:
She was exotic to me. Nothing about her sharp blonde bob and stylish Scandi uniform felt familiar. Even her social life was unbelievably cool and unreachable, like something out of Gossip Girl. So I was surprised when we clicked on a work night out just a few weeks after I’d moved to London.
She approached me, which at the time seemed unbelievable, but after a few drinks we were whipping out our best stories trying to impress each other, laughing loudly at anything the other one said. I questioned her motives that night but fast forward six years and countless straight relationships on both sides, we were firm friends.
Best friends. My crush had never developed. I thought it might during those first few intense weeks, but looking back it wasn’t the kind of filthy, adult infatuation that had you daydreaming about sex, or even the cute, teenage kind that gave you butterflies.
It was more that I wanted to be her, or at least be like her. What I hadn’t noticed through my admiring gaze was how she felt about me – and how that was the beginning of the end. Our friendship faltered after a drunken night out in which we spent most of the time flirting outrageously with other people.
I don’t know if that stirred a sexual desire in us but before I knew it we were back at my flat talking about our fantasies over another drink.
The conversation switched to experimentation. Had she ever slept with a women? Had I ever been tempted? Our answers both led us to the same resolve; we should have sex. In hindsight we probably should have laid down some rules, or at least spoken about what this meant for our friendship, but in that moment we were two grown women making a joint, consensual decision to challenge our sexuality.
A choice. A bold one, sure, but one for the taking. We stripped off – there was no foreplay, kissing or even touching at first. I took my own clothes off, as did Amber, then we slotted our legs together, moving closer until our lips were squashed up next to one another’s.
I must admit it felt good, but it also felt awkward and I let out a laugh to break the silence. After that, we both relaxed. I closed my eyes, letting myself enjoy the feeling that was building up inside my stomach.
We moved our groins back and forth in a soft rhythm, rubbing ourselves together until we both came, then lay next to each other processing what had just happened. It was over so quick I didn’t really think much into it – and then it was morning.
When I woke up Amber had gone, which was the first sign our brief sexual encounter meant something more to her than it did to me. I was ready to laugh it off over some burnt toast and a cup of strong tea.
I already had it pegged as one of my finest stories – the night I stopped being so vanilla and small town, the night I let my wild side out. I thought we’d tell this liberating tale to strangers who’d be jealous of how free and close our friendship was – set some kind of sexual friend standard.
However simple I’d sold it to myself, it certainly didn’t stay that way in the days that followed. My phone was met with endless, essay-like texts that revealed Amber’s deep feelings for me – ones that she’d been harbouring since that very first work night out.
I spent hours on the phone to her explaining that I just wanted to stay friends, that my feelings were purely platonic. I’m not proud of myself but over the weeks I had to create some distance – not only for my own sake but for hers, too.
Our exchanges had become a painful and frustrating string of arguments, so I stopped answering the phone. After that, I’d text occasionally to check in on her but I was met with short, curt responses.
One day her calls and texts just stopped. Our friendship was officially over. It’s sad, I know. Maybe I was naive to think you could have no-strings sex with a friend. Maybe I was even more naive to think you could have no-strings sex with a friend of the same sex.
Female friendships tend to run on a deeper level than male friendships, in my experience. Just know this: If I could rewind the last year of my life and save her from feeling any pain, I would. Second time round I’d pick a stranger.
Or maybe even a sex toy with no feelings at all.