My Name’s Simone And I’m Giving Up Vanilla

Nov 12, 2009 • Diary, Simone

Yesterday was a sexy, but very strange day.

Arriving at the West L.A. office suites of my gynecologist for my yearly exam, I was prepared to spread ’em. Shaved, showered, and smelling sweet, I was led to my room by a dark haired, tan skinned, male nurse.

“Take everything off then put on this robe, opening at the front,” he instructed, professionally.

“Everything?” I asked. He nodded. I wondered what he was thinking. Did he find me attractive? Did I find him attractive? He flashed me a smile, then was gone before I could finish the thought, a neat pile of hospital gowns laying on the examination table next to me.

I dutifully disrobed. Slipping on the loose-fitting garb, I hopped onto the table ready for action, sitting and swinging my legs like a school girl.

In walked my doctor, an attractive early 30 something woman with long, curly black hair. We exchanged the usual pleasantries and discussed my recent birthday (29!). She updated my daily vitamin intake and sexual history. We spoke of her pregnancy and breast tenderness. Giggling like old friends, I was feeling comfortable.

My naked body was about to be examined, by an attractive, newly pregnant female doctor. Maybe it was the oxytocin radiating from her (they say people pick up on pregnant women’s vibes, often feeling a surge in feel good hormones), or the fact that it’s my most fertile time of the month, but there was something fascinating and even stimulating about this trip to Pap Smear Land.

Soon my feet were in the stirrups and my butt pushed to the end of the table. Doc fiddled with the warmed speculum for what seemed like an abnormally long time, until finally she exclaimed, “All done, would you like to take a look?”

“A look?” I asked, truly ignorant.

She grinned as if she were talking about a rainbow she’d just seen out the window and said, “Yes, I have a mirror here and if you sit up just slightly you can have a gander at your parts, up to your cervix.”

I sat up as instructed, legs still spread. She did indeed have a white vanity mirror in hand and was looking down admiringly at my displayed pink butterfly.

What followed were some gentle adjustments to the mirror until I could finally see deep into… myself.

Now I’ve watched some porn and I have to say, compared to the punanis I’ve seen thanks to the small screen, I’m beautiful — all pink and smooth and glistening, even on the inside.

We smiled at one another and I lay back. She seemed disappointed that I’d had enough, but the position was like a nude pilates work out and it was time for a deep breath.

She collected her instruments and left the room. I dressed. Went about my day, replaying this titillating incident in my mind.

Much much later, I decided to tell someone: My male roommate (of all people) and his friend, who were sitting on the couch drinking beer and talking football.

“Wanna hear an interesting story?” I prompted.

“Yesss,” they echoed in unison and I recounted the above, with no need to embellish the already poignant details.

This got us talking about porn and something I’d never before heard about.

“I’m surprised she didn’t have you sit on a Sybian,” laughed roomie’s friend.

“A whaaa?” I’ve seen traditional porn yes, but I’m far from versed when it comes to its bells and whistles.

Before I could object we were transfixed on my roomie’s computer screen, searching images on YouTube.

We started with Carmen Electra in a plaid skirt sitting atop such a contraption while Howard Stern egged her on, begging that she increase the speed to orgasm potential. After a few minutes, all three of us, were ready for nudity.

Finally, we settled on a strip tease by a stick-thin northern European looking model with the hottest body I’ve every seen (diet started today, thank you very much). Even I found myself slightly aroused with images of earlier dancing in my subconscious as a taut gorgeous body writhed on the screen.

While none of this was typical in its arousal building potential, it’s certainly got me to thinking. Perhaps the vanilla fantasies I’ve subsisted on for so long are in need of an update. Mirrors? YouTube? There’s a whole world of fun things out there. Hello late twenties sexual peak–it’s time to explore.