1. Lubrication and the Sonic Dimension

Once in a while my wife’s pussy is on the dry side. It would be easy to grab the bottle, grease her down, and slip my dick in. And sometimes I succumb to that kind of laziness. More often I go down on her and see if I can get her juices flowing with my tongue.

Not that I’m a cunnilingus expert or anything. Far from it. After nearly two decades of marriage, she still has to give directions: “Lighter, LIGHTER.” And: “Up. HIGHER.” And (perhaps to give me confidence): “No, you were right before. Move back down to where you were.”

But I do my best, and eventually (usually) she rewards me, first with Ohhhs and Ahhhs, and finally by commanding me: “Get up here and put it IN.”

I do as am told, and I am reminded, once more, that there is nothing in this world that feels quite as good as a pussy sopping with real pussy juice.

And you can’t beat the sound of it either. All the slurping and swishing are the perfect accompaniment to female cries of pleasure.

In my experience, artificial lube doesn’t make much noise. It’s slick enough—too slick sometimes—but it lacks the necessary volume for sloshy sound effects. When we were swinging, the women inevitably greased their pussies before fucking me. Being polite people for the most part, they never whipped out a bottle of lube in my presence or anything, but applied it surreptitiously beforehand, while in the bathroom or, for all I know, in the car on the way over. In any case, by the time I got my dick into them, they were slick, and I know damn well it wasn’t with pussy juice.

It always disappointed me. I like to know when I have made a woman wet, or at least had a little something to do with it. How can I if she has used an artificial lube before I can try?

Don’t get me wrong. If a woman truly has a problem with vaginal dryness, then, by all means, she should use a sex lube, but, otherwise, natural pussy juice is the best choice.

If you are unsure, Ladies, my advice, for what it’s worth, is this: have your man eat your pussy for no less than thirty-five minutes. If your pussy (along with most of his face) isn’t sopping by then, at least you had fun trying.

2. Hair

I prefer a pussy with hair.

I don’t mean necessarily 1970′s cavewoman hair, but some hair.

I have nothing against trimming and shaping. Smooth and hairless skin around the pussy is nice to kiss, suck, lick, and (gently) bite. That said, I like a furry main attraction.

The fuzzy bar, the wispy smudge, and the classic delta are all attractive shapes. To my tastes, the woman who picks the shape that works with (rather than against) her natural pattern of hair growth cannot go wrong. Personally, I don’t like for a woman’s pubic patch to have an extravagant or unlikely shape. I don’t care for thin strips, too-clearly defined lines, or those close-cropped pussy crew cuts. I like pussy hair to be a little long and somewhat irregular, if not a tangled mess. I find the symbolic patch of hair ABOVE the pussy, so common in porn films, a bit silly. I feel the hair should be ON the pussy, not lost somewhere between it and the navel. When a woman shows her profile, I like the way a shock of pubes can break the otherwise smooth, curved lines of her belly and thighs.

Pubic hair serves as a veil, creating an air of mystery and even suspense, no matter how often you have eaten or fucked the pussy it partially conceals.

To put it plainly, the hair on a woman’s crotch (together with that wonderful absence of penis and balls) is, like the hourglass figure, the upside-down valentine ass, or the long eyelash, a symbol of WOMAN. The sight of it, I believe, brings out the MAN in most men, striping away, however briefly, all the superficial layers of bullshit with which our society has hidden our deeper selves. And unlike other feminine symbols, just about every woman has some pubic hair to work with. Even if she lacks tits, ass, nice big eyes, and various other things that appeal to men, she has her muff, and, believe me, that’s something. Why shave it off?

I like to see strands of white semen clinging to a woman’s pubes.

I like the way wild hair wreaths a pearly blob oozing out of the pink inner folds.

I like the way clear droplets of pussy juice cling to the individual strands and glisten.

I like the way a woman’s bush mats down and curls after a long fuck, announcing “I AM WET” in a way that a bald pussy, no matter how soaked, never can.

When we were swinging, every woman I wound up fucking had a bald pussy, and it was always a disappointment to me. Of course I didn’t complain. I don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings, least of all those of the rare female willing to have sex with me. When it comes to pussy, I am, like most men, if not exactly a beggar, not quite as choosy as I would like to be.

That said, those bald pussies not only lacked all the charms that hair can give, they often suffered from the nastier side effects of drastic hair removal—the blood points of wounded follicles, razor burn, and stubble. The stubble not only chafed my face, but would sometimes have tiny shreds of toilet paper caught in it.

Even when I encountered the ideal—a perfectly hairless pussy with beautiful unblemished skin, smooth and soft to the touch (and between the legs of a good looking woman, too)—I found myself wishing she had some hair. I am aware that there is a millennia-old tradition in many different cultures of denuding pussies completely of hair. I have heard the anti-bush arguments (of pussy politics, not presidential) that usually begin with questions like, “Do you want a woman with hairy legs then? What about her armpits?”

And, yes, I occasionally get a pube stuck on my tongue or caught in my throat. Small price to pay, I say.

I like the way pussy hair tickles my nose. I like to press my cheek against a muff and feel the moist line in the middle, like a kiss. I like especially the contrast between the surface of cool coarse pubes and the sudden velvety, hot wetness inside. And let’s not forget that pussy hair, like all hair, catches, holds and even enhances scent, which brings me to me another of my pussy preferences.

3. Smell and Taste

I like for a pussy to smell and taste like pussy.

Oh, once in a blue moon it’s fun to use those flavored, scented oils—mango, pina colada, etc. But for the most part, when I am with a woman, I want her to smell and taste like a woman.

I don’t like deodorized, flavorless pussy. Without smell and taste, sex loses entire dimensions. No doubt there’s some guy out there reading this and thinking, “Well, I can appreciate what you’re saying in theory, Walt, but the last time I went down on my woman her pussy smelled and tasted like URINE.”

Hey, I’ve been there. Here’s my solution: whenever I’m getting up to go to the kitchen anyway, I call out to my wife, “Can I get you a glass of water, honey?” When I see her glass is half-empty, I say, “Let me top that off for you.” I bring her orange juice, too, or in the evening a glass of wine. But for the most part I give her water, lots of water. This is not only good for her general health, it dilutes her urine. When I’m lucky enough to get her panties off, her pussy is SWEET, and I’m a happy man. It is important for a pussy to be healthy: infections can create off-smells and off-flavors. Some men still think pussy smells like fish because they’ve been sniffing an infected example.

Napoleon famously asked Josephine not to wash for five days before he was going to fuck her. That’s a bit much, but I do enjoy the spicy, musky, and wild flavors and scents that accumulate over the hours following the last wash. That said, I can appreciate the fresh-and-wholesome quality of a just-washed pussy, too.

The smell of pussy is also important AFTER fucking, when it combines with that of semen, creating a whole new scent which no longer resembles either one. This smell, like most produced by human bodies, has meaning. It triggers deep, instinctual reactions. It no doubt contributes to the sense of fulfillment and peace a woman and man feel after coming together, and it may even send animal signals to anyone else who happens to smell the sex on them.

A female butterfly will land on the ground and spread her wings once her eggs have been fertilized, signaling to the male butterflies pursuing her, “Sorry guys, I’ve already been thoroughly fucked. You’d only be wasting your seed on me. Better move on. Good luck.” And the male butterflies, gentlemen that they are, do. (If only women and men were as considerate to each other!) But is it not possible that human beings send each other similar signals, and that smells play some part in them? A woman with even a faint smell of mingled sex juices on her may be sending a subliminal I-have-just-been-fucked message to everyone in the vicinity—unless, that is, she has broken off communications by deodorizing her pussy, adding yet more confusion to our already chaotic world. Hey, if so-called “scientists” can base their bullshit “studies” of human sexuality on observations of the mating habits of bonobo chimpanzees, I can base my own theories, such as they are, on butterflies, thank you. So, Ladies, if you ask me (which you have not), throw away all the wipes, sprays, or whatever else you’ve been wasting your money on. Put away the razors. Go easy on the wax. Save the sex lube for emergencies (or, better yet, a hand- or foot-job for your man). Your pussies are beautiful just the way they are.

September 2018
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