In silence I examined it and handed it back to her.
“Jack, are you really sure you want to see this?”
“I’m sure. I feel I must be able to understand what happens to you, what to expect and what I can do to make life easier for you. So I’m sure.”
Then, pausing only for a moment she stood beside the toilet pedestal and lifted one leg on to the lid. Her dressing gown fell open forming an open triangle framing her long leg, lower abdomen and the landing strip of her neat Brazilian vaginal hair.
She looked acutely uncomfortable, like her most intimate space had been violated.
Again the searching look into my eyes then she reached down between her legs and slowly withdrew the white string, bringing with it the soiled tampon from her vagina.
It hung down on the string, like a small white mouse, showing odd smears and clots of dark red blood. There was only the faintest whiff of an unpleasant odour from the blood.
She then released it into a disposable plastic bag, sealed it, and dropped it into a waste bin.
Strangely this didn’t repulse or revolt me. It just seemed so natural, a new aspect of womanhood I hadn’t known before.
“That’s awesome,” I said, but I was staring between her thighs not at the tampon.
It was the first real look at her cunt other than the quick glances I’d taken while photographing her.
And it was a beautiful cunt.
Not like those I’d seen in my girlie magazines. I’d imagined all vaginas were great ugly gashes with thick lips and pieces of raw meat hanging out.
Sue’s was, well, beautiful!
Not an ugly gash but a perfectly sculptured symmetrical slot, yes a slot, I can’t find any better word.
It was only slightly higher up the front than I expected and instead of protruding lips, hers was gently rounded inwards, as if a craftsman had lovingly smoothed and chamfered it to perfection.
Sue had waxed away almost all her pubic hair, leaving only a narrow strip of close-cut lawn above the entrance.
It was simply the most beautiful cunt I could have imagined.
And it was hard to resist reaching out and slowly run a finger down it`s length.
“You must let me help you insert the clean one?” I asked, tearing my eyes away from her slot and back to her sad face.
“Are you sure? Your Dad ran a mile whenever I mentioned anything remotely about menstrual cycles.”
“I want to know everything about you,” I said firmly, getting down on one knee in front of her.
Then together she guided my hands as we inserted the applicator into her perfect slot and pressed the plunger to move it into place.
When it was done, we stood close, our bodies touching as we washed our hands.
When we were dry, Sue threw her arms around my neck, tears in her eyes and turned her face up to be kissed.
“That was the most sensitive and intimate thing any man has ever done for me,” she sobbed. “Now I’m even more sure than I was that you’re the man for me.”
Then her face broke into a wicked smile, “I’m glad you didn’t want to photograph that scene!”
That broke the poignancy of the moment and we both laughed aloud, easing the tension between us.