Vajazzled

The concept of vajazzling makes me chortle. Ad does the phrase 'vajazzle your vajayjay'. Every time.  People get so scornful about it too. It's funny. I saw the above photo posted ironically the other day, in a post by a mommy blogger planning a new craftroom in the room of the eldest daughter who had flown the nest. One commenter was sarcastic about how authentic her smile looked.

And then a little later I had a sudden flashback! To the pornographic novel I found in my parents' bookshelf, which I recognised as fairly classic, and had an early prototype vajazzling scene within that I had completely forgotten about. I had to Wikki it to find the title because it was gone, gone, I couldn't quite reach it. One of those ones about turning a bored housewife into an ever-ready-for-it whore, you know the way. Of course it was Emanuelle and it had a scene where she goes to a party to get gangbanged, but first they take her away and dress her in filmy diaphanous white and painstakingly attach tiny pearl beads to each and every one of her pubic hairs! Ha! I thought, as I remembered that detail. Vajazzling is not new! Then I wondered how they do it now that nobody has pubes anymore. With a hot glue gun, it must be.

Of course it is! And this photo explains the smile - she was doing an educational photo shoot!

Lord, I'd forgotten about Emanuelle. That was educational.

I will leave you with a little soupcon of the entertainment the internet has to offer.

teehee!



fragments

She's putting on her scarf, over her turquoise coat, wrapping herself up in yards of its softness. She feels my gaze, mid twist, and looks at me, eyes sparkling. 'What?' But she sees my smile. She knows what.
'What?' she whispers, as I tip her face up to kiss her. Her lips are soft and her face is warm. I take the end of the scarf and finish winding it around her neck, wondering if I flicked it in the other direction would she spin like a top until I'd unwrapped her.

'You know what.' She shakes her head, fluffing her hair out over the scarf, peeping in the mirror, picking up her hat. I nod, deliberately.

'You think I look cute.' I nod. 'You like me.' I nod again, and smile. And wait. 'You love me and I make your heart glad.' I take her face in my hands and I kiss her again, stroke her face.

'And you're beautiful.' She goes the sweetest shade of pink, and the happiness in her smile is more reward than I could ask for.

When she comes back, her cheeks will be flushed from walking in the cold, her nose will be red and I'll unwrap her then, the gloves, the hat, the loops of gold and turquiose scarf that her eyes and hair glow against. The winter coat. It's just her nose that will be cold, I know, the rest of her will be hot from walking all bundled up, and from coming home to me.

When did you find your clitoris?

18?

Succinct little statement there.

I was 14. Must have been ignited with intuitive drive as it was after watching Young Guns. Or was it Young Guns 2? Either way. The heat! Like a flash fire, or whatever the expression is. We don't have that sort of extreme weather event here. We certainly didn't then either, as no one else found it for years, and I wasn't able to point them to it, somehow.

'Where do you like to be touched?'

'Um, here?'

'That's a funny place.'


Sigh.
Bless him.


Or,

'Do you frig yourself?'

Me: Well (debates teaching three drunk boys in a dark garden about female masturbation, at age 15), yes.

Best friend: No.

Yeah, right, Vicki.

And yay for the big colouring book of vulvas. It should be in schools.

Hot Fuck Sundae!

When I first saw this picture, what attracted me was the Adam and Eve nature of it. But then I thought, no, that's actually Adam and Steve, isn't it? Either way, cute ass creases :)

Here's a sweet site: Happy Naked People - if it was mine, I wouldn't be able to resist adding captions - 'he's happy because he can lift his bike over his head'.

pet peeve

Oh my god.

For fuck's sake. That's not a big colouring book of vaginas. No. As I might have said before, it's a big colouring book of vulvas. VULVAS. Shout it out loud. Why does this annoy me so much? I suppose it's because people manage not to get confused between the words for testicles and penis. Or maybe because the world at large is still completely ignorant about female anatomy and they don't care about what a clitoris is, or how it works. No, it's all about the vagina, and basic male pleasure, and reproduction. Vulva? Huh? Bah!

Aside from that little ranty rant, it's a worthy project, or at least seems so from the sweet reviews I browsed through at the start. I love the idea of women sitting at home, happily colouring in vulvas in a book their partner bought them.

fragment

She's on her knees for him, working hard, reaching for his hips and he slides his fingers into her soft hair and grips, pushes her harder, takes away her choice that little bit more. Her mouth is wet and hot and so willing, her throat a tight treat that makes his own breath catch. He knows how each little gag puts pressure on her cunt, milks the cream out more. Her nipples are hard, her smooth breasts bounce.

She's drifting, so used, so wet, focused on air, and trying to keep a seal and follow the rhythm she can't set anymore. Her knees spread wider and the pulse pounds in her pussy. The pain in her scalp burns warm, the sound of his breath sings to her.

The dance continues, while she pretends she's giving and he pretends he's taking and the world shrinks to just that one high ceilinged room.

cabbages

This photo holds a warm place in my heart.

Someone put wings on that cabbage fairy!

The size of that leaf just cracks me up. Aw!

Found at The Thickness