The One - No one said it would be easy Read Online Free Page A

there with my Number One and, due to my almost daily masturbatory practices, was very well acquainted with my body and all its intimate places. But still I fretted constantly. I was scared to death of letting him anywhere near down there. Not because I was a prude or scared of things – rather the opposite, I was as randy as a bitch in heat. But I totally panicked in case Number Two would be shocked when he discovered what a woman looks like and smells like down there.

Apropos: Pussy hang-ups
    Am I the only one to have pussy hang-ups? I have no idea where this panic comes from. Then again, Mother Nature or God or whatever joker is responsible for the biological packaging of our primary sexual organs, seems to have been of not quite sound mind when they created them. I mean, what exactly is that supposed to look like, down there between our legs?! A couple of pathetic piggy-pink flaps of skin, nestling in a load of fuzzy hair? The rest of the female body is so beautiful – did the Good Lord run out of bio-putty between our legs or was he maybe distracted because he was contemplating the latest football results? I don’t care how many New Age women are singing in praise of the female love-muff, I simply don’t believe you: just take a proper look! The thing just looks miserable.
     
    And what about the smell! I’ve never been comfortable with the typical pussy smell. Never mind how often and how carefully you wash, whether you apply body lotion by the liter or spray your panties with perfume (burns like hell!), it still smells of pussy. Always. When I really got going and did it by myself, I found the smell quite hot. But I just could not imagine that a man would like it. I even was ashamed of it – still am. And I practically wet myself with worry that my Number Two would smell my very own secret odor between my legs and find it disgusting. These days, I’m a bit more relaxed about it, but even today I can’t really let go until I am absolutely certain that the guy is all right about it. If I have even the slightest worry that he’s not, I feel self-conscious and clam up. Which makes me quite cross. But I can’t seem to get away from this stupid notion.
     
    Just like I used to think that penises would stink horribly but my first experience put me right, I also used to think that I would die of embarrassment if anyone should ever see me naked. I thought I would not be able to handle my counterpart looking at me every day, knowing what I looked like naked. I thought he would tell everyone and make fun of me, and God knows what else he might get up to with his knowledge of my unclothed surface area. Especially once one is no longer together. I also used to be quite put off by the idea of having shared sexual experiences with someone, and then splitting up. There’s no telling what nasty stories he might spread about me!
     
    As a worst-case scenario, the story of a school friend of mine brawling noisily about his very personal sex-shocker experience has burnt itself onto my memory. This was the late nineties when full intimate shaving wasn’t the done thing at all, and of course there was no Internet with sites such as youporn.com, where you could become very well acquainted, pre-coitally, with primary sexual organs, both visually and with regard to handling.     
     
    Said friend freely talked about his first time and loudly shared how shocked he was when he first set eyes on his girlfriend’s Promised Land, and I quote: “Bugger me, you girls have one ugly piece down there! I thought I would faint, it looks like a slimy rotten run-over dead hedgehog!” Whoa! That hit home. There’s no answer to that, is there?! Silly girls that we were, and completely unable to handle such a situation, we did what women always do when they are confronted with something embarrassing and unpleasant: we giggled non-committally. How is a teenage girl in the midst of her sexual awakening supposed to develop any kind of