Yes! Another fabulous guest post for The Pussy Pride Project and this time I am delighted to be able to say that the author is a man. If you look down the list of Pussy Pride links you will find a number of them have been penned by men but they are most definitely in the minority and yet nearly all men will have had some form of experience with woman and their genitalia. Now I know they can not speak with the same authority as a woman but they still have a valuable and positive contribution to the discussion.
This weeks guest poster is the lovely Fridayam. Although he has previous linked into the Pussy Pride Project with 2 of his poems this post is very different as it is a frank and honest account of one man’s relationship and experience with female genitalia.
Pussy Pride Problems
I guess I was lucky with my first real girlfriend, back at the end of the ‘60’s, start of the ‘70’s. She loved sucking me and always swallowed. It was unsaid, but understood, that this was instead of the intercourse she wouldn’t consider.
Nevertheless, I was a well-brought-up young man and I wanted to return the favour in some way. I don’t know what would have happened if I had fallen to my knees and prised her thighs open but as even the insinuation of my hand along her thigh was met with a closing of her legs sharp enough to remove said limb cleanly, I got the message that her loins were out-of-bounds.
Noli me tangere. Well, we were both Catholics—by upbringing, if not by inclination, but old habits die-hard, I thought….
But then I went to University, where I met people from different backgrounds, different religions, different sexual mores—and found the same problem. Girls were quite happy to suck, and now to fuck, but still you could not even contemplate touching, never mind licking, that strange hairy swamp, the scent of which attracted my ever-ready penis.
I began to think it was me who was the problem. Perhaps I was approaching pussies the wrong way?
The first pussy I got to taste was a girlfriend who was a bit of a swinger. She taught me a lot, how to lick a pussy but also how to fuck, how to just switch the brain off and enjoy the feel of body on body. Sadly I fell in love with her—oh fuck what a mistake. Part of me is still in love with her
So I went back out into the world of girls, then women, who didn’t want their pussies explored, seemed embarrassed and ashamed of them, pulled you up when you began to head towards their delicious centre. I began to see adverts for products that promised “Feminine Hygiene” and wondered if women were embarrassed by their smell?
Well yes, thick tights and unnaturally-fibred underwear were not conducive to a fresh smell, when yanked off in passion (we’re in the late ‘70’s now—please keep up!) but well-brought-up young men were strong of character and I for one realised that it only took a few moments oral stimulation for a woman’s natural and delicious taste to overcome her clothes.
Most of the time though it was still a no-go area. Women showed unnatural strength wrestling your face away from their pussies and yanking one’s semi-hard into an unlubricated tunnel—as though any discomfort was preferable to the shame of mouth-to-pussy contact.
In the ‘80’s I met my wife: French and refreshingly untroubled by any sexual matter. At last I could feast on a pussy kept free of clothing as often as possible and always wet and unselfconsciously open to my tongue. Oh I feasted, believe me!
After two children, in the golden period when they can be left alone but before they get too troublesomely hormonal, I talked to her about shaving her pussy. It had struck me that many of the women I had been with didn’t know anything about their beauty, down there, because they couldn’t see it. With my wife that wasn’t a problem, but my love of licking her made her agree and the sensations for both of us once she was bare were so intense that she kept it up despite her initial reservations. Even in periods when we have been unable to have sex I notice that she keeps herself shaved.
And maybe that late 20th, early 21st Century habit of shaving has unlocked their vaginas for a lot of women. I am not arguing for or against it, but merely noting that the taste for shaving has coincided with the recognition that the vagina is a beautiful thing—not just a reproductive hole but a thing of exquisite beauty, a source of intense pleasure and a fountain of delicious tastes.
Some of you readers will know that I write poetry. When Molly started her Pussy Pride Project, I added a couple of my poems to what I thought was a well-conceived and much-needed celebration of the most beautiful part of a woman.
Well now I celebrate what Molly has achieved in a year of wonderful writing, and I thank her for her inspiration.
Fridayam.
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