Me and My Vagina

This Irish joke will no doubt offend a number of people:

“ When Paddy wakes he gets out of bed, showers, and gets ready for work. he finds his wife in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. She takes one look at him and says:
‘Mary mother of God Paddy, you look TERRIBLE!’. Paddy says:
‘But I feel great, I feel wonderful - I don’t understand’
Somewhat disturbed by this reaction, Paddy heads off to work, and when he boards the train, his old mate Sean is sitting down reading his newspaper, looks up, glances at Paddy, makes a face and says:
‘Jaysus Paddy what have yer done to yerself - you look TERRIBLE!’
‘But’, Paddy says, ‘I feel great! I really feel great’
Arriving at his office, his secretary greets him at the door, takes one look at him and says:
‘Oh my dear god Paddy what have you been doing. You look absolutely TERRIBLE! There must be something wrong with you. I’m going to make an appointment for you with your doctor, you can’t go ‘round looking like that!’
Later Paddy is ushered into his doctor’s surgery, the doctor takes one look at him and says:
‘Good Lord Paddy, come here and sit down...you look TERRIBLE!’
Paddy says: ‘I know doc everyone keeps telling me that I look terrible, but I feel GREAT. What on earth d’you think’s wrong with me?’

The doc replies: ‘I don’t know. I’ve never come across this condition before. I’ll have to look it up.’
So he takes an enormous reference book called The Irish Thesaurus of Symptoms and Remedies off the shelf and leafs through it rapidly:
‘Let’s see - ‘feels great, looks terrible’...’feels great, looks terrible’...feels...feels...ah! here we are: ‘feels great, looks terrible’ ........... you’re a VAGINA!’”

As politically incorrect as this joke is, it expresses how I feel about my pussy at times. I know we’re supposed to worship our vaginas as friends but the relationship between me and my cunt has always been ambivalent at best.
It’s not that I don’t get a lot of joy out of my divine fulcrum. I regularly, absent-mindedly, dreamily, fiddle with it - I stroke the lips, twirl the hairs, tickle myself, occasionally rub my clit (just a little, mind) - especially when I am half-dressed or naked. I play with it in bed, in front of the television and the computer, lying in the sun, even at breakfast, to amuse myself, sometimes to amuse MM. I have never been a committed masturbator, and even the most plaintive of pleas from MM doesn’t drive me to this most ancient of pastimes. Self-pleasuring doesn’t come naturally with me because it doesn’t actually lead to much self-pleasure. No orgasm.....

At times during my cycle I become aware of my own sex odour. A musky smell that drifts lazily into my nostrils and invariably makes me aware of how horny I am. It only lasts a couple of days, and MM has to be vigilant to catch those moments, either for his own indulgence, or for the opportunity to introduce another man for my pleasure. It’s a delicate act of timing.
I have never regarded my bearded clam as being pretty or even handsome. All my adult life I had been acutely embarrassed about what I call ‘my flappy bits’. My inside cunt lips protruded grotesquely, menacingly, darkly, crudely, beyond their enclosure, and as MM and I became more active in the swinging lifestyle, I became more aware that I didn’t want to present these swollen labia to my new lovers each time.

I am now going to admit something that only 2 or 3 people in the world know: I’ve had a partial labiaplasty - removal of my inner lips. The before and after shots are shown above.

I don’t know about you, but I know what I prefer.
I can now unselfconsciously spread my legs lasciviously and provocatively for any man like the magnificent tart that I am.

About that word: ‘cunt’. I love it and loathe it.
It’s MM’s favourite word - he claims the word ‘cunt’ expresses completely the magic of my vagina: all the warmth, the wetness, the delicious smell, the unique taste, the amazing texture, and incalculable pleasure he gets out of my pussy. He loves to use the word when we’re fucking - it’s such a forbidden word, and being so, to use it is to ‘talk dirty’. Again the tart in me understands and deeply synchronises with this attitude. The loathing part probably comes from 2 places: first the catholic revulsion towards bad language, and second, when I’m feeling loving and soft rather than hot and passionate, it’s not a good or appropriate word. Overall though, it’s naughty and passionate, forbidden and sooooo hot to call a cunt a cunt. I know nothing will stop MM from using it, at the right times and the wrong times.