Ah, cunnilingus; that common but most exquisite of delicacies! ‘Rug munching’, ‘clam diving’, ‘drinking from the furry cup’ – its euphemisms may not sound attractive, but a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Forget oysters or caviar, and don’t even consider Bird Nest Soup (a Chinese delicacy made from actual bird nests); the most delicious ambrosia can be found in the pants of females around the world. Yes, you could call me a cunnilingus evangelist – a cunt connoisseur, a gynaecological geek, a fanny fanboy who would put the enthusiasm of an Apple nerd to shame.
So like all fanatics, I find it hard to comprehend anyone who doesn’t share my pleasure at pleasing the little pink pearl. I might admit it could be considered an acquired taste; the enjoyment of a good beer or a fine whisky often only titillates the taste-buds of the initiated, but I can only pity those unacquainted with the most morish flavours of the muff. Each one is different and yet familiar, like a unique blend of aromatic spices; some are almost flavourless, others intoxicatingly potent; some are sweeter, and some zesty like a citrus. Of course, even individual women taste different on different days; due to cycle, or arousal, or even what they’ve eaten. Some cunts are as featureless as a paper-cut and invite a probing tongue; some are exotically fleshy and beg to be nibbled. The furry ones are pleasurable to pet, the naked ones particularly lovely to lick. Whatever the case, I’ve never entertained one that I’ve not enjoyed; though one has noted the anxiety that a lot of younger women feel about their smell or flavour or shape; so for those, let me put that to rest – unless you have a serious infection or a particularly poor relationship with personal hygiene, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. If a lover doesn’t enjoy lapping at your lips, you can be pretty certain that they’re an unsophisticated yahoo, an amateur, a tasteless tit requiring on-the-job training or instant dismissal. Your delicates are a divine dish; expect nothing less than devotion.
Food is analogous to love; we share meals with our loved ones, and when we eat we grant ourselves a material manifestation of self love. Food and sexuality are deeply connected. In the end, cunnilingus simply cuts through levels of metaphor and substitute; we get to consume a part of what, and whom, we love and desire; we absorb a piece of them, we immerse our senses in their physicality. If a person is truly desired, how could one not delight in the devouring of their flavours, scents, sights and softness – experiencing them to the full, submerging ourselves in their existence? Oral sex is therefore fundamentally intimate, romantic, and beautiful; but most wonderfully it is also almost the inverse: It is messy, ‘dirty’, and animalistic. It is the unification of two apparent extremes, and whether one is on one’s knees praying to the pink or opening one’s most sensitive parts to a partner’s jaws, there are inevitably contrasting experiences inherent to the enjoyment. Cunnilingus: The cummy yummy cuisine of girl honey; as much a gift to give as to receive. I compel you; go forth, and enjoy.
Darling, let me plant a kiss upon thy lips;
Not those; the ones which lay betwixt your hips;
That scented bloom; beguiling flower,
Where stirs the very root of our desire.
Caress my lips with that moistened bud;
Arouse the fire within my tired blood,
I’ll softly plant my tongue within,
For the harvest of every love is sin.
Oh sweet maiden come with me;
There are such wonders for us to see.
Let us devour our lovers’ fruits;
What joy there grows in such pursuits!