Don’t forget to fall in love with yourself first.

gape

I have shared this picture before, on Sinfully spread for sinful sunday. It got me into a little trouble with the powers that be at WordPress, leading to my blog being removed in the middle of June. On the comments Molly suggested I take part in the pussy pride project, and since then I have had this post waiting to be written in my draughts.

I have a wonderful relationship with my pussy, but it hasn’t always been this way.

Where to start? Why…at the beginning of course!

It is quite well documented within my family that I was always a tomboy. My mum joyfully tells people how I would tuck toy lorries into bed with me at night instead of dollies and cuddly toys. In all honesty, at a young age I didn’t define myself as a boy or girl, why would I? My brother was my hero, and I happily trailed him round on my bike. Gender irrelevant. As I grew up I realised that my body was different to the rest of my family. Mum hid herself away under clothes, shrouding her curves in mystery. But I had, as all children do, seen glimpses of different parts of my brother and dad. I did not have one of those! So I spent some time exploring my body. That pre-pubescent night with a mirror, a torch, a book on anatomy and a pencil.

That was the first time I realised that there were three exits, and I read all about what the middle one did.

This was scary stuff for a 9/10-year-old girl. Babies and pregnancy had been covered in year 5 primary school, but they came out of there??? Holy smokes! As I grew up my body changed, and I learnt all about how these things worked. It wasn’t so scary anymore, but I knew that wasn’t for me. Babies and children, no thank you! But what else was it for? That was a mystery to me. Though learning continued apace, and it didn’t take me long, before I found my brothers stash of porn. And then I knew.

That growing understanding combined with a desire to explore…

It was a slippery slope. My first boyfriend would happily spend hours down there, devouring my soul through those lips, eyes blazing with a passion I hadn’t seen before. The worries I had about my lips being so much bigger than those I had seen in the magazines faded into nothingness. He adored them, and with that love I continued to blossom. I soon found out that toys felt amazing, and my time with a vibrator (which belonged to his mum) I reached a new high. The dildo I purchased soon after filling my young pussy, stretching it so beautifully. After we ended I didn’t give up on my practise, I became an expert on my pleasure.

With those expertise came a magnetic effect to the men I fucked.

I used them for my pleasure, often in the most sordid ways, but it was during this time that I realised the power that my pussy had over them. Looking back I can see that they were probably using me for sex as much as I was them, but I also recall the way that just a touch of my wet folds on the dance floor of a local club, or a sniff of my sticky fingers at the bar would light the fires behind their eyes. They were a mix of long-term fuck buddies and strangers I took a fancy to, but the effect was always the same. The loss of my first love put up walls, but this was a great new game that I could play without getting hurt.

I don’t remember all of their names, but the look was more or less universal.

My pussy pride dropped after I met P. Once snared by him my confidence left me entirely, as it would do when someone points out all of the negatives, delves into your perceived fears and drip feeds them back into you. They grow then, but not in the way a beautiful flower would blossom, more like bindweed, choking and stifling all in its path. Those intoxicatingly puffy lips, enjoyed by so many before suddenly became fat lips, too big to suck on, to lust after. He would go down there and fall asleep. Why? Because they weren’t good enough for him. His interest in them piqued when he needed to empty his balls, and if I wasn’t worried he would pester until I gave in.

That isn’t the same as the fires of lust that burn, erotically entwining two (or more) souls.

When I started to take control of my life again, albeit handing over that power to sir, I was given tasks, amazing tasks. They allowed this stifled and abused woman to start to spread her wings again. I had encounters, built my confidence and met M. He had not been interested in sex for a year before we met, his libido had waned and there didn’t seem to be much hope for him. My pussy cured him, the sap suddenly rising, overflowing from an underused well. My magical powers had returned, and once more I saw the fires igniting behind lusty eyes.

I have so much pride in my pussy.

For so long I loathed my body, constantly trying to fit into a box that changed shape. My pussy was the last thing P took control of, and one of the first things I took back. For a while I sought validation through the power that this dripping cunt offered me, and over the last few years I have mellowed.

Accepting the beauty, enjoying sharing it but most of all letting that pride spread to the rest of my body.

 

Thanks to Molly for making me aware of this project.
Pussy Pride
February Photofest

 

So much fun! It’s sinfulsunday.

I’ve had so much fun this weekend.

My children have been away for 2 weeks, and I’ve been hovering between feeling mopey and trying to be grateful for the time to be grown up.
This weekend saw me attending two events, which I shall write about when I get to this point of time, but I love the picture that the wonderful Drlovelace took of me last night at Twisted Boudoir’s Saturday shenanigans.

I barely recognise myself.

With the children home now I can get back to my routine, and stop all of this socialising!

Click the lips to see what everyone else is saying.

Sinful Sunday

TMI Tuesday: 19th June 2018

woman carrying baby at beach during sunset
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

1. What was your biggest worry five years ago, do you still have that same worry or feel the same about it at this minute?

Five years ago I was heavily pregnant with a child I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to love or care for. My first birth was followed by 3 years of not liking my son, and this surprise pregnancy brought back a lot of those feelings of inadequacy and fear. Add onto that P had decided we were going to find out the sex of the baby, and upon discovering we were having another boy repeatedly made the points that he had a wanted a girl, he was deeply unhappy that I was growing a boy and I probably should have had that abortion he had suggested at the start of the pregnancy. (He is a real charmer)

Five years later and my fears have been proven unfounded. I didn’t experience postnatal depression second time round, and though there have been very challenging times I have removed the highly toxic P from my life (as much as possible) and found a strength of character which is proving to be more than good enough for raising two lovely little boys.

2. Do you have a positive or negative body image? What factors contribute to your self body image?
a. advertisements
b. media and social media
c. comments from others
d. introspection and analysis of self

I finally believe I have a positive body image. I see my body for what it is, and I am proud of what my body can do. Over the last five years I have gone from loathing my body to being fairly ambivalent about it. Just in the last year (from my heaviest last October to a healthier weight now) I have come to really appreciate certain parts. My breasts were the last part, with everyone else having the perfect shape or size and mine being, well, different. Following tasks from an exasperated Sir, and some great photos I have realised that when I say “all breasts are beautiful” that can include mine too. So much so that I even got fitted for a bra two weeks ago! Got to love Sir’s tasks and a spot of self-counselling.

Sadly, no amount of people telling me they like my breast, bum eyes or [insert preferred body part] has helped me in this journey. I have friends and lovers who enjoy my body, and sir has always been appreciative. But he has set tasks so that I can accept myself in my own time. And as my confidence has grown in my body so has my appreciation of it, and my willingness to look after it.

I have been a bit frustrated at the media and certain apps, one called My perfect body which allows you to shape and mould your photos to create the “perfect” shape. It makes me worry for the next generation. I may have downloaded it and had a go…

3. How confident are you as a person?
a. no confidence at all
b. confident around friends and family
c. confident at work, and in my job
d. very confident in my surroundings–work, social settings, with strangers

I have a quiet confidence which I find useful in most situations. From meeting strangers, to public speaking and with people who I know well. Strangely it is the people I know a little but not well who I feel shy around. Perhaps with strangers I can have the walls up, and those I’m close to have already found the secret hiding place for my spare door key. Those in the middle ground are, perhaps, more risky? Who knows…

4. How creative a person are you? Why?
a. not creative
b. average creativity
c. creative in some situations
d. very creative

When it comes to food I am very creative, particularly with store cupboard staples. Otherwise I rely on reflection or academia (writing) and patterns or pictures to copy (drawing and crafty things) I’m happy with my level of creativity.

5. Do you resent things being uncertain and unpredictable? Why?
a. agree
b. undecided or Don’t Know
c. disagree

I can find uncertainty challenging, but resent predictability.

Bonus: What do you wish you had invented?

LEGO TAPE!!!!!

Click the link to see what other people have to say:

TMI Tuesday blog

 

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