Intimacy

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But First, a Little Story…

I remember the first time a man ever asked me to shave my vagina. I was in ninth grade, he was in tenth. We were innocently watching a movie together in his room when one thing led to another and before I knew it his sneaky fingers were down my pants. We had an exhilarating fingering session, the threat of being caught “red-handed” by a supervisory adult adding to the heat of the moment.

It’s Thursday evening and you’re standing in line at the grocery store. Your significant other called just as you were leaving work to inform you that dinner would not be on the table when you got home because there was nothing edible in the house. Great. Perfect end to a crap day.

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It was his hands that made me do it.

I didn’t mean to do it, and it certainly wasn’t my intention when I walked in. But now, as I look at myself for the first time since it happened, I feel confused, and a little disoriented.

The marks are there, in the mirror, all over in fact. I can see the impression of his thumb on my hip, the glowing imprint of his fingers on my cheek. I touch them gingerly, tracing the contours of his passions…Passions so intense they overflowed into my soul and onto my skin. I feel branded…and the heat spreads to my thighs again.

Traditionally when a man wants to get a women into bed, he “romances” her.

He uses scented candles, delicious food, good wine, and saxophone-y background music. He tries to woo her into a state of harmonic bliss wherein his true intentions may go unnoticed…

Sometimes when my husband and I are going to sleep, I cuddle up behind him, reach around in the classic “spoons” position, slide my hand down his stomach, and take hold of his penis. I don’t do anything with it necessarily. It’s not usually the beginnings of foreplay, or meant to turn him on (though judging by the reaction of his penis I know it does most of the time…) Instead the gesture is meant to show my love for him. It’s like a good-night kiss, but better.