Sep 272015
 

Growing up, I didn’t have a clear mental image of a vagina. Playboy confused me, as did poor sex ed. I thought vaginas were vulvas, mounds of flesh covered with hair. I knew there was a hole – for pee, for penises. But I think I imagined it was something like the hole at the end of my urethra – a little, obscure thing, that existed solely for the purpose of the entry of a penis, the exit of urine. And, I suppose I knew, blood.

I had no idea the vagina was a complicated, glorious thing, with lips, a clitoris, folds, and character.

When I first started to understand vaginas were more complicated, it was porn that taught me – Color Climax, which showed me fucking, and High Society, which showed me labia, clits, folds. My first reaction was horror: I felt the victim of a bait and switch.

Today, I’m intimately familiar with vaginas, vulvas, clitorises, labia, etc. I love them. I love to see them, touch them, lick them. To finger them, fuck them. Worship them. They are, truly, one of my favorite things.

But not in porn.

When it comes to pictures, I’m very much my younger self. I want to see everything else, but just as Playboy hid the grail from me, so do I want it hidden today. I want to see your thighs, legs, breasts, eyes, hair, mouths. Everything. But when it comes to pussy, I want it obscured. Show me it’s there, show me it’s mine. Spread your thighs for me, touch yourself for me. But please, don’t show me what I will so enjoy burying my face in, fingering, licking, devouring, fucking.

Thank you.

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