Last night we went out and celebrated the birthday of my kung fu brother Tony. We had a grand time. We ate at Flip Burger - and if you are ever in Atlanta, you have to go there. The server was sweet and capable, the atmosphere was nice, the price was reasonable, and the food was AMAZING. Seriously.
Anyway, there were six of us - Tony, his wife, two other friends, and one of their roommates. We were all going on about the food, and so we got on the topic of other things whose taste we love: specifically, vagina.
Just kidding, sort of. We did get to talking about lady parts, but I don't recall exactly how we got there.
I said (as I have said before and will say again) that I really truly miss the garden associated with ladygardens. I miss hair down there. It has almost gotten to the point, I told my friends in jest, that the next time I slide off a girl's panties and see bare skin that I am just going to tell her to get dressed and go home. Not that I would ever do that! I love loving too much, and while I am very particular about who I sleep with, it has nothing to do with the hairstyle (or lack thereof) of their nether regions.
Still, though, I am sick of the Brazilian-ed mons. I LOVE the soft downy tickle of hair. Think about teddy bears, or (more distinctly) kittens. How soft, how warm, how lovely to hold in your hand. Would they be nearly as wonderful if they were hairless & clammy skinned? I think not.
Look, back in the 80s, when I started my sexual life, the hairless girl was rare and amazing. The sudden boldness and frank reality of a shorn vulva was a thrilling thing. Like any other option, though, it got less interesting as it became more common. With the rise of the thong came the ever-shrinking bush... much like the polar ice caps. The triangle became the landing strip, which became the racing stripe, the mohawk, the thin line, the sunrise... .and then, like Keyser Soze, it was gone.
Well, as I told my friends last night, I miss bush! Naturally, I am a big fan of hygiene and good grooming. I appreciate the hair removal along the sides and the under carriage. While I can understand a woman who chooses to just let things go completely native, I am not suggesting that for everyone. What I am saying is bring back the muff. Aesthetically the vagina just isn't the same without it. Think about it - if every lady in the world went all Persis Khambatta on us, they would all start looking alike! Yes, every vag is different - innies or outies, pink or peach, lippy or not. Riddle me this, though: when you describe a woman to someone for any reason, what is the first thing you say (or close second after race)? You describe her hair! Well, pussies are the same way. One of my dinner companions said that when he looked upon a vagina that he wanted to really see it, not have it hidden. To which I replied, does a lady need to shave her head for you to look at her face? Of course not.
I have not taken pictures of the vast majority of the women I have been honored with sharing a bed with. But if somehow there were pictures of them all, and you cropped them to just show their sweet luscious lips, I could, I believe, properly identify most (if not all) of them. I might have trouble with the ones I only slept with once or twice, but even with them I got close enough to the vag to make friends. If, however, every one had a shaved cooch, I would be lost! Lost, I tell you!
I love women, for the wonderful mystery of their beautiful bountiful smiles of Venus as much as I love them for everything else. I am not trying to get any of them to conform to my ideal of femininity or beauty. I am just pining for an era gone by; one I am afraid may not return.
Perhaps I savor too much of the past, but I will always cherish the memories of the first times I ever got to see and touch and taste a woman. I will always remember my hand, slipping past the elastic guardian of a cotton panty waistband, sliding down slower and slower, in wonder and awe. That first contact of something other than soft belly flesh was the whispered tickling of a soft beautiful bountiful garden that framed and glorified sacred flesh. And I love it so, and always shall.
<3 <3
Anyway, there were six of us - Tony, his wife, two other friends, and one of their roommates. We were all going on about the food, and so we got on the topic of other things whose taste we love: specifically, vagina.
Just kidding, sort of. We did get to talking about lady parts, but I don't recall exactly how we got there.
I said (as I have said before and will say again) that I really truly miss the garden associated with ladygardens. I miss hair down there. It has almost gotten to the point, I told my friends in jest, that the next time I slide off a girl's panties and see bare skin that I am just going to tell her to get dressed and go home. Not that I would ever do that! I love loving too much, and while I am very particular about who I sleep with, it has nothing to do with the hairstyle (or lack thereof) of their nether regions.
Still, though, I am sick of the Brazilian-ed mons. I LOVE the soft downy tickle of hair. Think about teddy bears, or (more distinctly) kittens. How soft, how warm, how lovely to hold in your hand. Would they be nearly as wonderful if they were hairless & clammy skinned? I think not.
Look, back in the 80s, when I started my sexual life, the hairless girl was rare and amazing. The sudden boldness and frank reality of a shorn vulva was a thrilling thing. Like any other option, though, it got less interesting as it became more common. With the rise of the thong came the ever-shrinking bush... much like the polar ice caps. The triangle became the landing strip, which became the racing stripe, the mohawk, the thin line, the sunrise... .and then, like Keyser Soze, it was gone.
Well, as I told my friends last night, I miss bush! Naturally, I am a big fan of hygiene and good grooming. I appreciate the hair removal along the sides and the under carriage. While I can understand a woman who chooses to just let things go completely native, I am not suggesting that for everyone. What I am saying is bring back the muff. Aesthetically the vagina just isn't the same without it. Think about it - if every lady in the world went all Persis Khambatta on us, they would all start looking alike! Yes, every vag is different - innies or outies, pink or peach, lippy or not. Riddle me this, though: when you describe a woman to someone for any reason, what is the first thing you say (or close second after race)? You describe her hair! Well, pussies are the same way. One of my dinner companions said that when he looked upon a vagina that he wanted to really see it, not have it hidden. To which I replied, does a lady need to shave her head for you to look at her face? Of course not.
I have not taken pictures of the vast majority of the women I have been honored with sharing a bed with. But if somehow there were pictures of them all, and you cropped them to just show their sweet luscious lips, I could, I believe, properly identify most (if not all) of them. I might have trouble with the ones I only slept with once or twice, but even with them I got close enough to the vag to make friends. If, however, every one had a shaved cooch, I would be lost! Lost, I tell you!
I love women, for the wonderful mystery of their beautiful bountiful smiles of Venus as much as I love them for everything else. I am not trying to get any of them to conform to my ideal of femininity or beauty. I am just pining for an era gone by; one I am afraid may not return.
Perhaps I savor too much of the past, but I will always cherish the memories of the first times I ever got to see and touch and taste a woman. I will always remember my hand, slipping past the elastic guardian of a cotton panty waistband, sliding down slower and slower, in wonder and awe. That first contact of something other than soft belly flesh was the whispered tickling of a soft beautiful bountiful garden that framed and glorified sacred flesh. And I love it so, and always shall.
<3 <3
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
pax_:
Wow. Thank you! 
I take it you read a bit?
I take it you read a bit?
pax_:
That sounds like me. Unfortunately my sister in law absconded with one of my bookshelves so a lot of my books are packed up. I reread everything I buy. But the nearest bookstore is an hour away. Thank goodness for half.com.