Jul 11

My vulva

I like it bald.

I didn’t used to. Heck, for a long time I couldn’t even shave my legs (too sensitive) much less my cunt. The thought of shaving past my bikini line turned my stomach. Shaved vulvae looked like prepubescent children. Who the hell wanted their cunt to look like that was beyond me. I felt liberated that I didn’t’ even trim. Trimming was too much maintenance, and I wasn’t one of those high maintenance girls.

One time I trimmed. It was complicated. Took some work trying to make the hair not look bizarre. But it felt airier and I liked it. Still, it was too much maintenance. I only trimmed every so often and rarely for looks. My cunt was about me after all.

My attitude about being bald changed slowly. I had a daughter, realized that all the bare cunts in porn looked nothing like hers. Gave up on the idea that people into shaved pussies really just wanted to fuck children. Gave up on the idea that the bald girls were tools of the patriarchy. I mean, shaving my legs felt liberating in the sense that I wasn’t able to shave at all for much of my youth and finally being able to choose to have smooth legs was freeing. Who was I to say that having a bald cunt didn’t feel the same way? Liberating.

So I did it. Took a shower. Let the razor travel further and further over my vulva. Pulled the labia skin tight and carefully slid the razor across the tightened skin. Checked every fold. Methodical but pleasurable.The sensation of running my fingers across a smooth vulva. My god. Totally different than running fingers over the soft curly hair of a trimmed or untrimmed pussy. Different than the smooth skin of the legs. Softer.

Oh and the sex. Fuck. I found new pleasures in my labia never felt before. My partner’s wet, warm mouth exploring my lips. Unfuckingbelievable sensations and how much fun it was for Jarreg to explore the uncharted territory of my pussy. There was no going back. This was for me.

The maintenance was totally worth it. Worth the extra time shaving. Worth the occasional razor burn. Worth it because it felt good to me. I liked the airy coolness of a bald cunt. I liked that I felt less uncomfortably wet in the heat of the summer. I liked growing short soft coats of quarter inch hair when I felt like it. I liked having the choice to go back to full on jungle pussy if I wanted to.

I haven’t yet. I haven’t grown the hair past  a week’s time. Not because I am obligated to some sense of cultural norm. Not because I care what anyone thinks because the only people who ever see my cunt are happy no matter how I style it. I haven’t grown the hair back because I don’t want to and the instant I want the hair, I will go back. No regrets. No concern.

So yeah, I like it bald but don’t assume me liking it bald is reflective of some sort of adherence to a cultural norm. At least not for everyone. To some of us, bald just feels good.

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