I’ve taken many erotic selfies in my time. I’m certainly not shy about flaunting my charms and portraying myself as an erotic art object. I actually love it. Although I’ve posed in many states of undress, I do have a limit: I never show my vulva in pictures. That part of me is reserved for intimate, in person, viewings only.
Despite this, I remember one time when I was inspired to break my own rules.
There I was, in a silent library trying to write yet another erotic story and I was writing about someone who has become my literary muse.
The intoxicating dopamine rush he provokes in me seems to completely cloud my logical thought processes. Despite this – or perhaps because of this – I was inspired to push my personal boundaries.
You only live once, right?
We were messaging back and forth and reminiscing about our shared intimate moments, orgasms and expressing the desire for more. In normal circumstances this would be a massive distraction for the task in hand, but given that he was my inspiration, this heightened sense of sexual stimulation actually helped with my creative process.
I was drunk with desire and he seemed to be pretty turned on too. Our messages stimulated my senses as well as my creative and intimate juices, making me need to cross my legs under my desk in order to calm my throbbing clitoris.
‘I said I’d never send a dick pic,” he wrote.
What? I couldn’t believe what I was reading or seeing as I suddenly saw a picture of his penis pop up on my phone screen. I observed this two-dimensional representation of something that I longed to feel inside me.
I almost salivated as I looked at it. I was totally surprised at what I was seeing as it was pretty out of character for him. I tried to hide my phone screen in case anyone saw and although I longed to zoom in on the image for a closer look, instead, I resorted to the archives of my memory to imagine and remember it.
It wasn’t just the picture that impressed me but the fact that he had crossed a personal boundary.
“Wow. I’m tempted to pop my cherry too. I’ve never sent a yoni pic.” I wrote.
“I wanna pop your cherry!” He replied.
All of a sudden, I was inspired to send an intimate picture of my vulva. Something I’d never done before. I got up from my desk and made my way to the bathroom with my phone in hand.
As soon as I closed the door behind me, I opened the camera app on my phone in selfie mode, lifted my dress, lowered my panties, spread my thighs slightly, exposing my nakedness until my labia filled the composition. The unflattering light didn’t do my carnal charms any favours, but I didn’t let that distract me from my objective.
After the first attempt, I wasn’t happy with the result so I kept trying. ‘This is crazy,’ I kept saying to myself but I just couldn’t stop. I was on a mission to get the perfect vulva picture.
Then when I heard someone outside the bathroom I panicked. I didn’t want to rush my cherry-popping selfie experience. Although I didn’t want someone to suffer because they were dying to go to the toilet, at that moment, my vulva vanity took precedence.
Finally, I got the shot I wanted and then I flushed the toilet to make this unique situation seem as normal as possible.
Once I got back to my desk, I sent it, after triple-checking that I was sending it to the right person.
As I waited for his response, I was filled with forbidden energy, vulnerability and extreme naughtiness. In the end, I got the reaction I wanted: He said he could stare at it all night.
A warm feeling consumed me as I remembered how he stared at my yoni as he touched me with his expert fingers. He always seemed to know exactly what I craved without me having to explain anything.
I pondered that for a moment and I suddenly realised that I had the source material for yet another story of which he is the muse.
You only pop your cherry once. And if it’s a one-off occurrence, it certainly makes it much more special.