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| (I borrowed this picture from Raani York's blog.) |
There are a number of stories reviewed on my Feminist Erotica blog which are about the pleasures of showing our sex:
- MSTarot's A Night of Chocolate and Roses,
- D_Lynn's Ethan's Grace - Exhibitionist Scene,
- and one about a man who displays his charms: AussieScribbler's Lusting While Dusting.
I've written about exhibitionism myself and one male pal commented to me on my enjoyment of showing my bits off. (In fictional form only, people! kindly do not form a queue outside my door hoping to see my pussy. No no, no pussy pix. OK, one pussy pic here →).
I explained to my friend that in general in society, a lady's pudenda is regarded with horror and disgust. In fact, the Latin word pudenda means 'shame'. The offending part is so dirty, naughty and dishonourable that that's what those in authority decided to call it. My friend adores women's hairy cunts and he was totally incredulous, unable to believe that women - while walking around with such beauty between our legs - are at all affected by these social niceties, or nastyties. So much were women taken in by this bullshit that during the second wave feminist movement from the 1960s to the 1980s, we had to encourage each other to check ourselves out in mirrors and overcome the myth that our own hairy cunts are so repulsive even we should never look at ourselves down there.
Generally, anyway, women think we are not good-looking. (If you ask a man to mention a part of himself he will apparently usually choose something he thinks is attractive while women are prone to say our hips are too big or our boobs too small or something.)
So, you add these two together and you get women who believe that cunts are socially disgusting and furthermore that our own cunt is probably much more ugly than anyone-else's socially disgusting cunt. Even if there is evidence to the contrary.
I mean, I thought for years my cunt was probably not an attractive body part in spite of this incident which happened to me when I went for a smear test at a lesbian sexual health clinic. Of course it is a good idea to have a clinic where women who like women can go to talk about sexual health without being pressed to try out different contraceptive devices or given other inappropriate advice. However, you can sympathise with my lesbian friend who said she would rather have a man look at her girl-y bits since she didn't care what men saw of her while women looking at her turned her on. And I have to say that while it appears logical to staff the lesbian sexual health clinic with lesbian women, and I am sure 99.9% of them behave in an entirely appropriate fashion, there are bound to be the odd occasions when - just like heterosexual medical staff - they don't.
So ... this was in my rugby playing days and I was a pretty fit woman, with thighs like ... look, you can just imagine what the thighs of a rugby-player are like and enjoy yourself, I am fine with that <snerk>. I hopped up into the special chair which they have in the sexual health clinics and put my feet in the stirrups for the doctor to do the inspection. They have a nurse in there to chaperone the doctor, as is right and proper, but suddenly this nurse said she must be excused and rushed out of the room. I thought the doctor looked startled but I didn't pay any attention as I just wanted to get my smear test done and get down the park to fit in my afternoon sprints training session. After the entirely proper inspection, I tootled out into the waiting room.
Suddenly the nurse re-appeared. "So-o-o, you are Scottish," she cooed to me. Now you can imagine with a name like Naoko Smith, I do not look very Scottish! and she can only have known that from checking out my confidential monitoring form. But I was not bothered and admitted that I am Scottish. "We are trying to recruit more Scottish nurses," the nurse said. "Let me give you my phone number, in case you know any."
I thought this was a bit odd but I said I would ask my other Scots friends and I took her number and went off to do my sprints training.
Oh yes! I was that dumb! After everything that nurse had seen, because of my abysmally low self-esteem I failed to realise that I have such a pretty cunt - uh, had! I mean I used to have a pretty cunt (tee hee hee!), all old and wrinkled now of course (wink), that that nurse risked her job to try to pick me up! What an idiot I was. (And I wish to add I really do not mind that nurse behaving inappropriately, nor the doctor who on another occasion made his feelings so obvious in the corridor, cuz neither of them did anything naughty, they just made it delicately plain that they would like to.)
When you think cunts are disgusting and your own cunt is likely to be ugly but you wish this were not the case, I think it must be especially enjoyable to imagine someone who likes looking not just at the folds and lips and hair between women's thighs in general, but actually at one's own particular purple, brown or pink vulva peeping through, perhaps wet and shiny because we got a little excited. Nancy Friday's My Secret Garden (or buy the book here) recorded fantasies by women who admitted that they longed to spread their legs in front of an audience of men and have their intimate parts admired. Ohhh! the pleasure of feeling that that social nastyty is wrong. Cunts are beautiful, and your own is so-o-o pretty.
I was thinking of that when I wrote my story Spilling the Seed, which is about the young Goddess Persephone and her love affair with Hades:
She was parting the diaphanous skirts, pulling them back. Her long legs were parting, she lay back with a luxurious moan of surrender. Her head of black coiled curls was tilted so that the soft liquid brown eyes could still watch him, anxiously. Even a Goddess may fear that her most secret beauties are not quite what a chosen lover prefers.
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