Sunday, March 01, 2009

Pretty Pussy

This essay was published in the Exotica section of Clean Sheets last month.

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"Take photos of me," she said in a breathily timid and yet assertive rush of words.

I raised my eyebrows.

"I am not all that comfortable with photographing people, sweetie. There is something about the lighting that I don't get..."

"Oh they don't have to be professional. I don't think I would want anyone to see them anyway."

"You've lost me," I said.

"I want to know what I look like... you know... down there."

If possible, my eyebrows rose further. I developed a second hairline just below the first. I think I even squirmed a little. I'm very open and have gotten a lot of requests over the years, but never this one.

"Have you tried a mirror?" I asked.

"Yes, but the perspective is all wrong, and it feels awkward," she was silent for a long moment. "I was hoping I could see myself the way you do..."

And so I did as she asked.
She was inordinately pleased to make her pussy's acquaintance. Thrilled, you might say. At last, she could see for herself that hers was, indeed, a pretty pussy. Which started my thoughts down a curious path that I've revisited periodically throughout my life.

I'd gotten up close and personal with her pudendum more than once, and it was the occasion of my telling her that she had a pretty pussy that prompted her to proposition me in that way. You see, a woman's relationship with her pussy is often very complicated, being fraught with unknowns. The territory can be explored, if we dare, but we never really see it -- at least, not the way our lovers do.

Quite often, I think a woman's bisexual curiosity is less about desiring another woman, and more a camouflaged curiosity about themselves, about their own anatomy. Unlike men, we cannot just whip our sex organs out and admire them. We rely on braille and mirrors and craned necks, instead, none of which is a satisfactory, shall we say, definitive view. The first time I came face-to-face with a pussy, I thought "Ahhhh, so this is what mine looks like!" Of course, the second one looked very different from the first. And the third, same thing. After I'd seen a few I came to understand men's apparent fascination with that part of the female anatomy. Men are extremely visual novelty-seekers, and pussies, even more than cocks, have a lot of variety.

Just as cocks look different as they transform from the flaccid stage to the tumescent and back, pussies change with arousal. I love the ones with larger outer labia that completely conceal the clitoris and the inner labia. As the owner of such a prize becomes aroused, the outer labia part. The inner labia unfold, the clitoris begins to protrude, and at some point the pussy looks like a ripe, juicy piece of fruit hanging from the crotch of, well, to use poetic license, a maidenhair tree.

It wasn't until I started photographing my own, though, that I realized pussies change with age. As I've grown older, my pussy has gotten poutier, and--dare I say it--lewder. Its variations in plumpness can be charted with my weight. The outer labia, still pale, have grown darker at the seam where they meet. My inner labia have darkened as well, and they seem, well, longer somehow. The inner pink looks even more vivid, probably because of the darker contrast. And my clit, it seems to have grown. Are clits like men's ears? Do they keep growing as we age? I think not.
Most likely, it has to do with arousal. In my early photos my pussy looks pale and virginal, and scared. Which it probably was. It had never been photographed before. But nowadays, as I set up my camera and take my position, I feel that tingle inside, that exhibitionist's arousal over making a display of myself. My skilled fingers creep inside, teasing out the wetness, making me gleam invitingly.

I like to think my pussy has gotten better-looking with age. And while that may just be vanity, or an improvement in my photography skills, I know one thing for certain. My relationship with my pussy has gotten a whole lot better. Familiarity breeds contempt, they say. I say "they" are idiots. Familiarity breeds prettier pussies. Enough said.

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