I didn’t physically prepare for my first orgy. My husband and I talked about boundaries and asked the friends who invited us about party etiquette. But I didn’t put much thought into what I looked like because I wasn’t planning to do a whole lot. I wanted to meet people, maybe kiss and fondle a few, and generally take in the experience as an observer in order to judge whether a second orgy was in my future. So I planned for comfort rather than beauty. I wore attractive but conservative clothing. My bra was snazzy, but my underwear was generic. And I didn’t even consider trimming my pubic hair.
Source: Pexels
I’ve never shaved my pubic hair. When I was a teenager, I read “The Vagina Monologues,” which features the harrowing account of a woman whose ex-husband shaved her bush without her enthusiastic consent. I decided right then that I never wanted to shave down there. The occasional hygienic trim, sure, but I’d never shave or wax or remove it in full. Pubic hair serves a purpose, and I like having it. (Plus, don’t let my kinkiness fool you – I hate pain. I don’t even tweeze my eyebrows because it hurts. So the thought of a bikini wax makes my toes curl, and not in an orgasmic way.)
Still, I’ve always felt a twinge of embarrassment about this choice. In college, the women I dated had less hair than I did, and I worried that they judged me for not meeting that basic standard of femininity. My husband likes my bush, but after knowing it intimately for seven years, he’s more comfortable with it than explicitly turned on by it. When I know a new person will be seeing it for the first time, I try to clean it up a little, just to make the effort.
Source: Pixabay
I hadn’t thought that far ahead when I walked into the orgy. Then I noticed my surroundings – breasts bigger than mine, butts rounder than mine, stomachs toner than mine, and genitals balder than mine. These weren’t supermodels or porn stars, but they all had raw, real, beautiful features, and my hairy, flat-chested figure couldn’t compete. I ignored that voice of insecurity at first, while I mingled and briefly made out with a few people. But I kept seeing these gorgeous bodies, engaged in activities I wanted to be a part of but didn’t know how to say so, and my anxiety grew. Combine that with half a bottle of wine and the sensory overstimulation that comes from hearing and seeing live sex acts, and you might understand why, after a while, I needed a break. I walked toward the front door to get some air.
Source: Pinterest
“Are you okay?”
I turned around and saw Jared, one of the party hosts. He was monitoring the door, and when he saw me bolt, he took me aside to chat. I talked, he listened, and soon, as I began to relax, our conversation turned from the causes of first-orgy jitters to flirty, kinky banter. Before I knew it, we were discussing my vulva.
“Do you shave your pubes?” Jared asked.
“Nope,” I replied.
This piqued his interest. “You have a bush? Can I see it?”
I shrugged. “Sure, why not?” By now, my awkwardness about being one of the only people still wearing pants outweighed any lingering body anxiety. I pulled down my jeans and underwear and showed him.
Jared’s jaw dropped in sincere admiration. “Wow. That is an amazing bush.”
This was not the response I’d expected. “Really?”
Source: Pexels
As it happens, Jared loves bushes. To him, hair conveys a mature brand of female sexuality that bald vulvas don’t. I always knew, abstractly, that some people prefer hairy to hairless genitalia, but this exchange stood out because no one had ever complimented me on my bush before. It’s seen as an acceptable choice, but not an overtly sexy one. Hearing that a stranger — who had no incentive to lie to me about his turn-ons — was actually excited about my hair was delightful news. Maybe my bush was nothing to be embarrassed about, after all. And maybe those beautiful people I’d been admiring saw themselves differently than I saw them.
People go to orgies for different reasons: some are exhibitionists; some are voyeurs; some like playing with strangers or multiple partners. Similarly, everyone is looking for someone different. People are attracted to different types of bodies, and if you’re at a large party, you’re bound to find someone who finds you attractive. In fact, you’re bound to find someone who is turned on by the very parts of yourself that you view as imperfections. I’m not going to pretend that kinky spaces are free from mainstream social conditioning, but at the very least, they provide a safe environment for different definitions of “sexy.”
Source: Pixabay
When I went to my second orgy, I put more thought into how I dressed. I still didn’t trim my pubic hair, though. Not because it didn’t occur to me, but because I knew I didn’t have to.
*All names have been changed.
Original by Amanda Goldberg
