This Is Why I'm F*cking Obsessed With My Vagina Piercing
Apart from a healthy dose of resting bitch face every now and then, my outer appearance usually screams young and innocent good girl.
I've even been deemed a prude on many occasions for my goody-goody ideas about threesomes and squeamishness around vulgar chit-chat at the dinner table.
But secretly tucked between my thighs and labia lies diamond-encrusted proof of my wilder sexual side. Yep, that's right. I have a vagina piercing.
While most 19-year-olds concern themselves with serious college dilemmas -- like finding a frat boy to supply her squad with liquor or earning enough money to buy a month's worth of Kraft Easy Mac -- I was much more interested in dropping $100 at a piercing parlor to add a vertical clitoral hood piercing (VCH) to my collection of body jewelry.
Back when my frame was taut and slim, I was never ashamed of my nakedness. Therefore, the thought of a stranger poking and prodding my most precious gem as I lay spread eagle on the table never bothered me. In fact, it gave way to orgasmic excitement.
When I got home from the parlor that day, I spent 20 minutes sitting on my bathroom counter staring at my upgraded flower bomb. But my VCH jewelry wasn't purely for aesthetic purposes. I was making up for lost time.
I'd been a late bloomer all my life. I got my period during track practice at 14 and lost my virginity in the backseat of my mom's car at 17 (Oh, how romantic!).
Before my VCH piercing, I was such a sexual rookie that during most of my coital sessions, I'd let the guy exert maximum thrusting and fully steer our experience.
At that point, I was fed up with feeling like a bystander to my own bedroom exploits. I wanted to up the intensity and allow my own sexual liberation to blossom.
I feverishly anticipated the benefits a stainless steel bar directly atop the source of my orgasms could have. The next step was figuring out how could I make this gadget work.
First, I experimented with some self-love. I explored my body, determining what levels of speeds were VCH-approved. Later, I found the rated-XXX positions, which once made me cower with uncertainty but now became welcomed challenges to get off.
Power Of The P*ssy
Nowadays, I am seldom ever fearful of a risqué encounter. There's really no greater feeling than knowing the right wiggle in my seat or position can ignite a series of happy endings.
Some guys are actually kind of frightened by my badass built-in sex toy, while others have eagerly played with it in hopes of reaching our bedroom objectives. Just as I once viewed my tiny artifact, men stare in awe of it and wonder how we can use it together.
Can we say #blessed?
My VCH piercing is the origin of my newfound carnal confidence. Because of it, I'm so much more present during intimate excursions.
When I'm 80, I don't know if I'll still be smiling at how a piece of jewelry enhanced my sex life, or whether I'll SMH at my wild, wonderful youth. But for now, my VCH stud is a reminder of how regaining my sexual agency led to the greatest orgasms of all time.