Riding space mountain

I’ve never liked roller coasters, or thrill rides.

I don’t like giving up control and putting myself at the mercy of someone else’s creation.

I don’t ride them.

They scare me. I’ve never ridden anything remotely scary. Never wanted too.

I went with my boys yesterday to Disneyland, and we did a few different rides – Indiana Jones, Pirate of the Caribbean, etc. Big stuff, for me. But, they wanted something a little edgier, but they know I don’t go on roller coasters. Ever.

But they didn’t want to go on something without me.

So, I pushed my comfort zone a little when we went to the California Adventure part. Went on the Grizzly something water ride. Scarier than I liked, but within reason. I went backwards down this big water hill – about as bad as I can imagine. I tried the flight simulator that flies over California landmarks, that I was afraid of, and that was cool.

So I suggested the Thunder Run train/roller coaster thing. I just focused on my immediate surroundings, and did ok. We took it again later, and I found myself looking around as we did it.

Not so bad. Should have been scarier, but it wasn’t. Easily the scariest thing I’ve been on, but not so bad.

So.

Space Mountain.

Waited an hour and a half.

No fear in the lineup. Felt fine on the starting gate.

Felt great going up the first hill.

No problems. Shot through space like a wild thing, got slammed around and had a most unusual high speed fast turning adventure.

I could do that again.

I will do it again.

My boys tell me it’s pretty tame, maybe a 4 out of 10. Whatever it is, it’s not something I need to resist anymore, and I’m game to try bigger, wilder rides.

Heights, loss of control – those are some of my biggest fears. But at the right time, they turned out to be nothing.

I expect Amy to push her comfort zone. Nothing wrong with me pushing my own too.

Training myself, these days.

Cool.

Star Trek and BDSM

Did I getcha with the title? No, I’m not talking about James Kirk as submissive male.

Several years ago I saw an episode of Star Trek, Next Generation that stuck in my mind. At the time, I didn’t realize why it had such an impact on me, but after I discovered BDSM and in particular D/s I understood. We had a scorching hot discussion after I first told Richard about it, on IM. I think it helped him understand me better, in those pre-meeting days. I remember not being able to sleep that night because I was so turned on. Recently I Netflixed it so that I could show him. It’s not sexy per se, but the implications of it are very sexy to me.

The episode is titled “The Perfect Mate”. Briefly, the Enterprise is hosting a meeting of rapprochement between two worlds. The ambassador from one world, who is picked up first, brings a precious gift for Alrik, the leader of the other world: a woman. Kamala is an empathic metamorph; a very rare mutant who has the ability to sense what men desire and mold herself to their wishes and interests. Empathic metamorphs imprint on and become the ideal mate of one man.

On the way to pick up Alrik, Kamala is accidentally brought out of stasis (blasted Ferengi!). This moves forward her development so that she is in a stage in which she is sending off strong sexual signals to all men. After a few incidents, she decides to remain in her quarters. Jean-Luc, tough guy that he is, tries to stay away from her although he is fascinated by her as well. However, they are thrown together to work on the ceremony of reconciliation and the attraction is intense. She’s smart, strong and intuitive – everything he finds most attractive in a woman (naturally).

Jean-Luc manages to keep her at arm’s length, but only just, and they pick up Alrik. When Jean-Luc goes to Kamala’s room to bring her to the wedding ceremony, she tells him that she has completed her development prematurely and has imprinted on him, rather than on Alrik. However, her strong sense of duty (in part due to her upbringing, but also due to becoming Jean-Luc’s ideal woman) means that she will marry Alrik, to maintain peace between the worlds. She will not reveal to anyone that she has already imprinted, and points out that she is still empathic, so she will still be able to make him happy.

The worst part: Jean-Luc has met Alrik, who is a homely, superficial twit unworthy of Kamala. Nevertheless, he acts as best man at the wedding and hands over his perfect mate to a lesser man.

*sob*

When Richard and I first began to spend time together online, we were flirtatious but also pretty cool. We were trying to be cautious. So we talked about kink more intellectually than emotionally and we talked about a lot of other things too (as we continue to do). However, Richard gradually moved to claim me and to exert control over me, and our relationship became closer to what it is now.

During one IM, I said “I am for you, Richard” and he asked what I meant. I hadn’t thought of it when I said it, but I remembered that this was what Kamala said when she came out of stasis, thinking that Jean-Luc was Alrik: “I am for you Alrik”. That was eye-opening. As we discussed it, I began to understand what it was I wanted in a relationship and what I wanted to be.

I want to be owned. By one man.

I want to be completely his.

I want to be what he wants me to be, in all ways.

I want that man to be worthy of me, and to bring out the best in me.

I want to be cherished for this, to be seen as a rare and precious gift.

And I am.

Her body is mine

Amy’s body is no longer hers.

I woke her one night, and played with her nipples as she struggled to understand what was happening to her. She wanted to sleep. I wanted to make her cum.

She came.

For now, I have chosen to control when she pees, when she masturbates, when she cums. I enjoy the luxury of owning her body, and using her for what I want. Sometimes I want to fuck her, to explore the sensuality of her body, and sometimes I like hurting her, feeling her whimper and moan under a much harsher touch.

And sometimes I just throw her away.

I started playing with her in the morning, stroking her and slowly arousing her. Time, however, was not in her favor. I had Amy whimpering and struggling as I held her wrists with one hand and played with her breasts with the other. I made her masturbate, and watched, but there were other things I wanted to do.

I got up and told her to keep masturbating.

She did so.

I moved about the room, getting ready, getting dressed, as Amy masturbated quietly and intensely without my attention. An occasional glance over showed her obediently playing with herself, although I no longer cared to watch. I was done with her.

Fully dressed and ready to leave, I laid a hand on her cheek. Men fantasize about walking in on a woman like Amy masturbating. The way she is right now. Aroused. Excited. Ready to fuck.

“I’m leaving. You can masturbate until you cum, or I will make you cum later tonight. Your choice.”

Then I closed the door on her, and left.

She wanted to get fucked so bad

Minor surgery last week left me in the unusual situation where I am not supposed to have sex for at least two weeks. No sex, and preferably, no orgasms.

Preferably according to the doctor, that is.

Amy suggested that she not cum over the next two weeks as well, to share what I am going through.

No.

At first, it sounded like a nice experiment in orgasm denial for both of us, but I like making Amy cum. So she doesn’t want to this week, but I have the delicious pleasure of making her cum when she is objecting to it. Well, objecting to a point. Once I play with her nipples long and hard enough, she’s not sentient enough to form a coherent objection any more, unless you count the word “No.”

Which I don’t.

I woke her up sometime Sunday night, and played with her until she came. No surprise there, but since I hadn’t cum I just let her sleep a few hours, then woke her again. This time she woke up kind of cranky, wanting to sleep and thinking that since I couldn’t fuck her anyway, why was I bothering?

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Whatever.

I used her for a long time that second time, finally letting her cum and she fell asleep almost immediately, exhausted in my arms.

Naturally, I wanted very much to fuck her, but without that option, I simply enjoyed my control over her, and the satisfaction of her wild and sexually helpless under my touch. I knew she wanted to fuck, so I hand fucked her, which worked well enough as a substitute, but only just.

Later that morning, after we were up on the couch some time after breakfast, she cuddled under a blanket to ward off the chill in the house, and began talking about how she liked having a smooth pussy, just freshly epilated.

We talked about her pussy for a while, with Amy playing with it a little, until she began masturbating with me watching.

Wonderful.

I began to consider just how many orgasms Amy could have in a day, not counting the multiple smaller ones she often has. These were the big ones, stunning tremors that leave her speechless and shuddering, sweat slicked and exhausted as I touch and hold her afterwards.

We went upstairs later, and began to play again. Amy whimpered and begged for me not to make her play anymore, withh the usual effect.

This time her orgasm triggered a migraine, which took some care and time to alleviate, and combined with another unforseen circumstance, ended our play for the day. But there seemed to be no sign that she couldn’t cum again, and every time I begin to tweak her nipples she begins to writhe and moan. I’m starting to think she has an infinite resevoir of orgasms, which could explain why she’s always ready to fuck, a trait that I enjoy immensely. This is the first time I’ve made her cum four times in a day; it won’t be the last. I’m not worried about number crunching, but if she can cum more often than I had realized, I want to explore just how extreme I can get with controlling her sexual pleasures.

We haven’t fucked all week, and previously we haven’t gone more thqan 24 hours without fucking, and rarely more than 6 to 8 hours, so this circumstance is very brand new for us. This morning Amy was stroking and holding my cock, whining a little because she wanted to be fucked so bad, and it’s still a week away before I can sink it into her pussy once again.

Well, sort of.

I can’t fuck her hard, not right now.

But I see no problem in slipping my hard cock into her, and tonight I plan to force her lovely mouth down over my cock for some delicate face fucking, as much as I can take anyway, because I am still sensitive from the surgery.

Would have been a perfect week for making her fuck someone else.

It’s certainly been a good week for making her cum against her will, with my hands teasing her nipples, pussy and ass into a state where she suddenly can’t resist her own sexual needs. And cums. And cums again.

And while I won’t yet be cumming in her pretty body any time soon, I’ll still be able to enjoy watching her helpless and in the throes of her own orgasm.

Very, very satisfying.

A good girl in the hands of a bad man

I sleep with danger.

She sleeps beside me now, breathing softly. A few moments before, she lay against me naked under the duvet, her head on my shoulder, one soft breast pressed against my chest, and one smooth thigh open and over my leg, her dampness pressed against me.

She laughs when I call her “dangerous.”

“You’re the dangerous one,” she tells me. “The Bad Man.”

Her innocence is charming. She sees herself as very boring, just another woman, nothing particularly shocking. Good at her job, a good mom who loves gardening and a good girl who has spent her life doing good things.

A good girl in the hands of a bad man.

“You just came across the room at me,” she said today, wonderingly. “You didn’t say anything, you didn’t kiss me, you didn’t touch me. You just entered me and started fucking me.”

Yes. This morning. She has it partly right, but not completely. Understandable, because she wasn’t there for all of it.

I took her to bed last night, both of us feeling distant due to work and family pressures. That afternoon we had walked on the beach, and she had wandered off when I stopped to photograph things.

I noticed.

I caught up to her, and told her to stay close.

After that, she stayed close.

We joked about putting a leash on her. She said I couldn’t use the training leads, there was a six foot minimum leash requirement. I said six feet would be long enough, and I intended to keep her on a shorter leash than that. She said people would not allow her to be on a leash. I was unconcerned. Funny, though. Let her wear a leather belt and no one would notice. Loop that same belt about her neck, and suddenly you get everyone’s attention.

Especially Amy’s.

“Ooohhh, just a little bit dangerous”

She has pushed off the duvet now. She lies on her belly, facing away from me. Naked from the knees up, the smooth curves of her ass just visible in the light from the laptop, a dark cleavage shadows her most personal entry point. I think briefly about fucking her ass.

I took her to bed last night.

We talked, as I held her from behind. After 10 minutes, she began falling asleep.

I began to play with her breasts. She whimpered. Tired, Amy needed to sleep.

We both need sleep. But we need something else more. As long as we have been together, Amy and I usually fuck several times a night. Some nights only once. I have no plan to fuck her tonight, but I intend to own her fully. We will see what happens.

To be honest, in the fog of exhaustion and arousal, I’m not entirely sure what happened. But two days ago, I made Amy masturbate, and she imagined me sitting in the chair in the bedroom making her fuck someone else, as I have threatened to do.

Amy doesn’t want me to make her fuck someone else. It scares her.

And yet she knows I want to use her, to make her fuck someone else, to be cunt, to obey every command.

She imagined me ordering her to fuck someone, directing her into different positions.

Amy continued to masturbate.

Then she came.

Hard.

She couldn’t confess it until the next day, and even then she couldn’t look me in the eye as she told me what her thoughts had been.

So now as I fuck my tired whimpering girl I take the fantasy deeper, and vividly paint a word picture as we fuck. I talk about her being forced to fuck someone else. About being used. About being wild.

I threaten to play with her tits while she fucks someone else, and Amy begs me not to do it. Play with Amy’s tits long enough, and, well…she loses control.

She goes wild.

Feral.

Dangerous.

She bites, she claws, she scratches. She loses the ability to form words, let alone sentences.

Amy fucks with her teeth sunk into my shoulder. I have many bruises left by her teeth, long rakes down my back from her nails. I wince often when I fuck her, when I have led her to the place of wildness.

She never remembers.

She looks at the bruises, the bite marks, the long scratches, and asks wide-eyed in the morning “Did I do that?”

Yes.

The last thing she says before slipping into that space, before the teeth and nails find my skin, is a whispered frenzied begging that I keep fucking her, that she’ll do anything I want, just keep my cock in her and “please please please keep fucking me.”

You turn around
so hot and dry
you’re hiding under a halo
your mouth is alive 

Her mouth is alive this time. As I fuck her and tell I will force her into a threesome, I let her suck my finger into her mouth, and she fastens to it like a slut on a cock, hungry to suck out the cum. Is it another man’s cock, in her mind? Or is it mine, as I make her fuck someone else? It’s all the same; when the time comes she’ll be lost in the fucking, and I’ve already told her I’ll make her like it, whether she wants to or not.

We fuck for a long time.

At last, she overheats. She whimpers to me that she can’t fuck any more, she’s too hot. I roll off her, and turn on the fan, and lie back down beside her.

We both breathe hard.

Her body is slick with sweat, and she’s claustrophobic and overheated.

I am not done with her.

I kiss my way down between her legs, and lie there, my mouth nudging along her thighs and pussy. I tell her I will do this to her when I want to get her ready for a stranger to fuck.

She gasps a little. I begin to caress her puffy damp lips with my mouth. I’m not sure where she is, in her mind, but as she cools in the blowing air, I hear her cry out and coo, holding her breath and releasing it. Her belly tightens, her thighs flex and her pussy at times rises up to meet my mouth as I tease her.

Eventually, one hand with delicate fingers finds its way down to rest just inside her hip, near her bikini line, if she wasn’t plucked bare.

She wants to masturbate.

She needs to cum.

I tell her to masturbate while I straddle her, playing with her breasts, telling her how perfect her tits are.

I know her nipples are sore by now.

I know hurting her nipples can make her cum.

I hurt her nipples.

“she’s got what it takes to make ends meet
the eyes of a lover that hit like heat “

I know she is close to cumming. Her whole body is tense, and her hand makes the familiar sound between her legs.

Her body thrums.

I play with her swollen breasts, then I say to her, “God, imagine how sore your tits will be after you’ve had to satisfy TWO men playing hard with them.”

She cums.

I’m over her, and I immediately slip my cock into her.

All nerve endings, she fucks now like the wild woman I love, all claws and nails.

We fuck now, until exhaustion slows me. I pull out of her, and hold her in my arms, too tired to cum. The bed sheets are somewhere on the floor.

I hold her firmly in my arms, locked.

She asks for water.

I tell her “No,”

Her body slumps. I straddle her naked body, open the water, and fill my mouth. Then I kiss her, letting it flow into her. She takes it eagerly. I give her more.

I tell her I can’t cum right now, but I will fuck her after I get some rest, and I will cum in her then.

We sleep.

I awake a few hours later, and slide my cock into her from behind. Her pussy is very wet, and I force my way in easily, and fuck her from behind, and from above while she lies on her side, but it’s too soon. I’m still too tired to cum.

I let her drift off to sleep again.

I lie awake beside her.

An hour drifts by.

I hold her from behind, my hand cupping her breast. I shift, letting her soft nipple slide between my thumb and forefinger. Her nipple gets firm in moments. The slightest touch arouses her nipples; it always does.

Amy is still asleep.

I lay her on her back, gently, and begin to suck her nipples.

Amy is unresponsive.

Normally, she would be writhing and begging, or trying to get away, as having her nipples played with drives her into extreme arousal, but she is too lost in sleep. I enjoy the opportunity, and alternate sucking her hard nipples. I am thrilled, and grow very hard.

I seize my sleeping girl’s hips, and drag her startled into the center of the bed and open her thighs. I have my cock in her as her eyes are opening wide in surprise, and I fuck her.

Her breasts press against my chest. I can feel her wet nipples, still firm and slippery, against my body as my cock sinks home.

I imagine making her fuck someone else, a wicked, delicious pleasure that I have still forbidden myself to explore, and I spill myself in her belly, and come to rest in an exhausted slump as Amy holds me.

“Hold on tight
you know she a little bit dangerous”

She still doesn’t think she is dangerous.

I tell her, “Imagine a woman that you can do anything you want to. Explore any desire. Make her do anything. And, imagine that what this woman wants is to do these things, to do whatever she is told, to give up all control to the man who commands her. This woman is dangerous. A man could destroy himself, with a woman like that.”

That woman is Amy.

Before we got together she had some concerns – she didn’t want to be branded, tattooed, or made to fuck anyone else. She agreed she would do them if commanded, but felt that they could be emotionally damaging to her. I decided then that I had to take the responsibility of not exploring these things that I liked, for her protection. And she laughed when I said I would make her my anal slut, or that someday she would beg to be physically disciplined.

She believes now that I can, and will turn her into an anal slut. That she admits. She also admits that she would enjoy being branded or tattooed because it would please me. And while she doesn’t want to fuck anyone else, being forced to do it to please me is hot. And she has already asked for spankings.

So where do I take her now?

I have thought also of making her pregnant. Not in a loving, check to see if she is ovulating, let’s get the timing right kind of way, but taking her, forcing her thighs open, and spilling my sperm within her as she begs and whimpers. Making her have my baby.

Can I resist the pleasures I have set aside? I can take Amy down wicked paths to dangerous places. But there is risk. I can’t promise safety. All I can promise is adventure. But she is more than willing now to go wherever I lead. I begin to imagine her now with the pleasures I forbidden myself to explore, for fear of damaging her.

I can see her now, branded, tattooed, pregnant with my baby and lying beside me naked in bed with another man’s cum still held between her lips.

Oh, and I see her content.

Sleeping peacefully.

“Hold on tight
you know she a little bit dangerous
she’s got what it takes to make ends meet
the eyes of a lover that hit like heat
you know she’s a little bit dangerous
she’s armed and extremely dangerous…”

I am the Bad Man.

I like to do bad things to my good girl. I like to make my good girl do bad things.

My good girl is learning to love everything I do to her; everything I make her do.

She turns over and pulls the duvet under her chin. I slide my hand underneath and play with her nipple. It hardens, and I see her hand slide down to her pussy. She is not awake, but she holds her pussy. Her breathing is slow and deep. In a few moments, I will finish writing, and I will fuck her. She has no idea, but she will be whimpering and begging very, very soon. She will tell me that she will do anything, just “please please please keep fucking me.”

Afterwards, I will fall asleep.

With a woman who loves me to force her to do anything I can imagine.

And as she lies innocent and completely obedient, I will know what she does not.

I sleep with danger.

Training her for belly dance

Amy is learning to belly dance.

She doesn’t want to show me what she has learned until she feels she can do it properly, which is cool with me, but last night she wanted to show me a couple of her moves.

She had on a thin gray undershirt, her jingling coin skirt, and something else – I don’t know what. I found it hard to look below her upper body, with her braless 38D breasts at eye level, nipples already erect and and a sexy smile on her face.

This pic I posted previously will give you a idea of how those nipples get your attention.

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She shows me some hips moves, which were dead sexy, then she goes into a shoulder shake, that just makes her breasts dance wildly.

God.

I’m gonna get her some tassels.

God.

How I became a dominant man

I’ve talked about how a few short months ago I was pure vanilla. I didn’t know I was sexually submissive, and I didn’t know that people lived the fantasies that I only…well, fantasized about.

I started exploring D/s erotica online last May, and through that managed to stumble onto an online kink community. For the first few weeks I lurked on the boards, reading posts and learning. I still remember the first post I made; I was so nervous that my hands shook as I typed.

One of the first threads I read was a woman responding to a flamer – you know, the kind who writes eg “How could you let a guy hit you? You must be really fucked up if that turns you on!” She was so open, so thoughtful in her response. She talked about how long it took her to acknowledge her sexuality, not just to others but to herself. About how freeing it was to finally do so. She wrote about the complexities and contradictions in a D/s relationship, and the depth of feeling and connection possible within one. I almost cried reading it. It felt so good to know that other people had the same feelings and urges that I did. Maybe I was a freak, but at least I wasn’t the *only* freak out there.

As I became more comfortable posting, I would regularly end up in the same threads with this woman. We developed an ongoing joke – she would tease and torment me, I would cyber-spank her, she would plot to turn me bisexual. Silly.

Now I talk to her every day, and we email several times a day. We live across the country from each other, and we’ve known each other for less than a year, but she is my dearest friend. Megan almost singlehandedly navigated me through my first experiences a) as a member of an online community, b) dealing with the attentions of predatory domly types, and c) coming to terms with my sexual submissiveness.

Here’s the thing. She is the most emotionally intelligent women I know. She has the sharpest, quickest wit. She is tooth achingly sweet to everyone, and ferociously protective of those she loves. She is scary gorgeous – tall, blond, blue eyed, cheekbones that could cut you. She could walk into a room, and walk out five minutes later with anyone in the room, man or woman.

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She’s a slave.

I remember one of the first times we were talking on the phone. We were in the midst of a serious conversation when she suddenly interrupted me “Oh! I have to go! Master says it’s time for bed.”

My jaw dropped. This was not fantasy. This was not theoretical. Megan was living it. She was (is) a slave. She has a tattoo on her thigh that says “slave” in kanji.

I chewed on that for a few days. At this point, I still saw myself as a vanilla person who had kinky fantasies. But my beloved friend, my most trusted confidante, was a…slave. What did that mean?

I decided that it meant a couple of things. First, I finally got it that you can be kinky AND be normal. If that makes sense. Megan is reaaaally kinky. She’s also reaaaaally smart and reaaaaally competent and reaaaaally emotionally healthy. That suggested to me that *I* could be kinky, and also smart and competent and emotionally healthy.

Second, it meant that I was in a relationship (albeit a friendly relationship, not a romantic one) with a kinky person, and I was getting a lot out of it. More than in my non-kinky relationships (friendly or romantic). This gave me hope that I could have other relationships with other kinky people that were satisfying and fulfilling.

Megan gave me the courage, both by her example and by her daily support and encouragement, to take a chance with Richard. To be open enough to get to know him, then to meet him, then to move in with him. She didn’t give me blind support and encouragement – she asked me hard questions and challenged me to think through each of my decisions. But that, of course, made her support infinitely more valuable to me.

I could not be here now, so much happier and in love than I ever imagined I could be, without her love and guidance.

My precious friend, my dearest sister slave.

A new position for fucking

I awoke in the early morning, and found Amy sleeping in roughly the position below, except nude of course.
With my erection already pressed against her naked ass, it was a simple matter to swing up and straddle her extended leg, press the other up and out of the way to open access to her pussy, and then force my way into her as she woke up.

With lovely easy access to her breasts as well, I found I could hold onto her thigh for hard thrusting, or lean forward and seize a nipple between forefinger and thumb, and gripping it tightly, rest my weight on that hand.

The net effect of gripping her nipple is to basically pin her to the bed by her nipple. A little pressure on her shoulder, pulling her as if trying to roll her onto her back, stretches her nipple in the most wonderful way, and gets an instant reaction from her.

It took a little persistent thrusting to open up her pussy fully for a good hard fucking, since she wasn’t fully awake when I started, but once we were under way this turned out to be a wonderful position to fuck her in. Plus, I easily rolled her over and fucked her the exact same way as she lay on her other side.

We will do this again.

Should you call your girlfriend cunt?

Amy told me, the other night while we were cuddling in bed, that she doesn’t like it when I call her cunt when I am fucking her.

WTF?

She was hoping I’d call her something more romantic, like “Sweetie,” or “Angel,” or some such name.

Now, keep in mind I don’t call her “a cunt.” No, she is “Cunt,” an entirely different creature altogether.

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She has since claimed to be teasing me, but what am I to guess from this? I know the humiliation I make her feel sometimes through word and action is very hot, for both of us. So, does she really not like being Cunt, or is this a ploy to make me think she really doesn’t like it, and therefore I’ll use it more, heightening the humiliation factor.

Amy doesn’t play mental games.

She does tease, though.

I just think she doesn’t like being Cunt.

Amy is easily the smartest person I know. I have shifted to a new technique when debating topics with her. Namely, don’t pick any position, because Amy will outflank and outmaneuver any logical position with my old nemesis, accurate facts. I hate accurate facts. And she seems to know them all.

Amy reminds me of a Vulcan. All brains and thinky thinky until pon farr hits, and then she’s an excited mass of sexual passion. Seriously, Amy is very intelligent and articulate, but during sex, when she has been properly aroused, she speaks, but the sounds don’t form proper words. All she can say that you understand is “no,” and “please.”

To me, she has become thoroughly female. Completely, 100% cunt.

And what other word could I use? Vagina? Pussy?

No.

I remember running across the word “queynte,” in my old Chaucer reading days. A form of “cunt,” and also meaning knowledge, or cunning if you like. The word “cunt” seems to have been formed from the feminine syllable “co,” pronounced “coo.” Long recognized as a feminine syllabel, you see it today even in phrases like “hootchie-coo,” for example.

While nothing is certain, it is put forward by some that the word evolved through numerous usages, possibly through the Latin “cunae,” which you will recognize as related to “cuneform,” and is seen in the word ” cunnus,” Latin for “vagina.”

The final syllable is often linked to Scandanavian usages of the word meaning “wife,” or “woman” or related meaning such as “kone,” “kut,” “kuton,” “kunta,” and “kutte.”

The Dutch are given credit, ultimately, for the addition of the “t” to the word, and their influence seemed to have been what resulted in the final shape of the word. To run the risk of over-simplification, the “cu” seems to have evolved from the Proto-Indo-European language, the “n” from the Latin, and the “t” from the Dutch, to find a final amalgamation in the word “cunt,”

It’s first recorded in England as a street name in various redlight districts of cities such as London and Oxford, which had streets named “Gropecuntlane.”

Cunt.

A fine word, with a distinguished pedigree, but currently in disfavor, and out of polite usage.

I, however, am not so polite.

When I am fucking her…

Amy is Cunt.