As I was drifting into that hazy landscape before sleep, I wondered how I would feel in the morning after what we had done together. Would I feel ashamed? Would I have a vulnerability hangover? I can remember times in my life when I have revealed things about myself to others and then regretted it because they didn’t understand. Not everyone admits that we are all messed up and uncertain and weak creatures. Most people hide from their own fundamental indigence.
Truthfully, I have woken up feeling exultant. I feel rested, relaxed, and warm. Although we spoon when we tuck down for the night, usually we gravitate to our own sides of the bed after we fall asleep. This morning we are still loosely entwined. I feel closer to him than ever. I feel as if I have been through an initiation, opened to new knowledge about myself and the world, and I have come through, feeling more loved and accepted than ever before.
I never used to feel confident about my body. What woman does!? We are never the right size and shape. Never slim enough. Breasts never big (or small) enough. Each female friend of mine can recite a litany of deficiencies in her body that she would like to change.
When we first started having sex, I felt shy to be seen naked. If I could manage it, I would undress and be in bed without him seeing. But slowly it dawned upon me that he relished my body, that he loved looking at me and touching me. I started to feel good about myself and I have grown to love walking around in the nude and seeing how his eyes are drawn to me. I now see the men love women’s bodies and are somewhat helpless over their attraction to us. We have such power and, although, like any power, it must be used wisely, it is good to feel desired.
A big thing for me was learning to see and love my genitals through his eyes. I guess I felt ashamed of its smells and wetness and my periods. It is a changeable creature and I didn’t know what to make of it. But then it became clear that his favourite thing was to spend time ‘down there’, touching, fingering, tonguing, tasting, and getting me more and more turned on until I orgasmed. It was almost as if he worshipped it. I think it is the mysterious part of a woman, the part that is the most hidden away, and every time was like an exploration, returning to the ground of his making.
And so, seeing them through his eyes, I grew to love my own genitals. I learnt to learn to receive pleasure from him without guilt. And I learn to enjoy giving myself pleasure. It is not as if I had never masturbated, but I had always been furtive and guilty about the act, whereas now I opened my legs and relished playing with myself, learning what I liked and the different kinds of orgasm I could give myself. I have come to love the gooey, slippery, slidey, smooth, and intricate folds of my vulva. I love putting fingers inside my vagina and feeling around at the different textures and the sensation of exploration and fullness. I will bring my fingers to my mouth and taste myself, relishing the salty taste and the complex aroma. Sometimes I will spread my wetness over my lips and lick them as I continue to play with myself. A woman’s body is amazing.
Last night brought me to a new level of appreciation of my ability to give pleasure to him. It is, of course, delightful to give him pleasure, but what he wanted yesterday was shocking and amazing. I guess I feel good that he trusted me enough to show me what he wanted, but I also found a new desire and power in me.
I was very reluctant at the start, though. I thought of my pee as waste to be disposed of, not quite nice, and smelly if I’m not properly hydrated. It is to be flushed away. I can’t imagine wanting to drink it. I was taken aback when he drank that first bit of my pee when I couldn’t hold it in because I was desperate. I could see how excited and aroused he was by me. As he stripped of my knickers, and pulled me down on top of his mouth, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer.
When I did, in the end, let go, a tingling rush of excitement came over me. I can’t describe it really. Yes, it is deliciously naughty to urinate into his mouth, but I suddenly felt powerful and that my urine was not disgusting but a life-giving nectar. I was pouring life into him. I was a goddess. Generative. Looking into his eyes, I felt bountiful and full of love for him. I have something he wants and I can give it to him.
The orgasm I had when he licked me was massive. It was a whole mixture of sexual climax along with that feeling of being intoxicating and of being utterly accepted. I could give myself totally to pleasure knowing that, far from being selfish, I was giving him exactly what he longed for at the same time as receiving pleasure myself.
After I had come down from my orgasm, I knew my bladder wasn’t empty, and when I continued urinating into his mouth, I knew that I was giving from my body as a gift for him. When I finally fully relaxed at the end and the last few drops came out, I felt complete. Lying here now I feel like a new person, more at home in myself, more confident of myself.