Getting Down with Yourself

I feel desensitized to flesh. Often I find I’ll go a few days, maybe longer than a week without seeing my naked body. When I finally take the time to look at it, catching a glimpse in my four foot mirror and ducking my head to catch a look at myself, I’m struck with the rawness of my own form, its subtle curves. I catch my own eye and a small smirk rises to my lips. Caught. I smile naughtily and begin to caress myself, not breaking eye contact. It’s a really wonderful feeling, that breathless whoosh of pride I feel at my figure, the tautness of my skin, the way my breasts stand up, small pink nipples, smooth breastbone, shoulders pulled back in confidence, and the soft pouch of my belly; my femininity.

One of these times I stand here, head cocked as I appraise my own entirety, cupping my breasts, feeling them fill my hands, my nipples hardening. I paint my thighs with my fingertips, my skin cool and soft under the warm strokes. I glide my hands down my lower back, firmly grasping each buttock, pulling them apart. This opening stretches forward, opening my vaginal lips and tickling my clit, sending sparks shooting inside me.

I move my hands round to the front, allowing them to come together circling my belly button before I slide them down. I stroke the silky hairs between my legs then press my finger down hard right above my clitoris, just once, before delicately parting the lips. I slide my fingers between them, feeling the soft mound between my fingers. My mind jumps from my fingers and into my clit, the only thought being the pressure and warmth of my touch on its soft head. I bring my fingers up to my lips, gathering saliva on my tongue and lick them, allowing a generous pooling of spit to gather. I taste myself in this union, my slight sweetness, that fruity tang.

I bring my moist fingers back down to myself, smoothly gliding across my clit and down into the deep crevasse below.  My mouth drops at this aggressive stroke. My unwavering fingers circle my clit, then drag down the center, tracing the outline of my vulva. They sink deep down the sides of my inner lips, exploring what hardly ever gets touched. My fingers dance, caressing, kneading my clit. My breathing speeds up, a dark heavy panting and I look again into the mirror, seeing my eyes flash when they meet themselves in the reflection, guilty. A slow smirk rises to my lips and I raise my chin, haughty, mouth agape. I close my eyes, concentrating on the sensation of my fingers. I feel myself opening, wider, desirous of penetration. I tease myself, touching, playing, my vagina tensing and contracting in want. Finally, I sink my fingers down inside myself, pushing gently in the moisture, feeling my finger pulled slowly further and further in over nebulous mounds of soft flesh. My vagina squeezes my fingers, such holding power, almost seeming to swallow me into myself. My heart stammers, bringing my belly and facial muscles with it into a whole body shudder.

I speed up my movements, and even squat down, to see myself in the mirror. At this spreading of myself, feet planted down solid on the earth, I reach deeper, filling myself. I pull wetness from my opening, pulling it upward, swirling it around my clit again. My heart is pushing harder and harder against my ribs and I’m groaning, moaning, whining, whimpering. The idea that the gardener might be in the backyard only makes me hotter. No one else is part of this ecstasy. I feel it building inside me, blossoming and opening, my vagina a gaping maw, singing, sucking, and finally a great pressure spiraling inside of me from within until it rolls up to the surface and pushes out hard. I cry out in pleasure as my vagina spasms, gulping and gulping, my body awash in warmth and glow. I crouch there still for a moment, eyes closed, savoring myself; the sensation of being in myself, with myself. The waves recoil, slowly, tenderly, every now and then the soft lap of another pleasurable wave. Slowly it retreats, a dragon pulling back into its cave, leaving only a lingering shudder. I open my eyes and smile at myself with gratitude, love, and fire. And this is how I remeet myself. Regain myself.