tagErotic CouplingsCunnilingus: A Short History

Cunnilingus: A Short History

bySerafina1210©

Somewhere in the world, at every moment, a woman is discovering the joy of it for the first time. Tags: Cunnilingus, Facesitting, Straight sex, Lesbian sex.

*****

100,000 BC: First lick

She had no name: names had not been invented yet. There are lots of things that hadn't been invented then: not only cars, televisions, and cell phones, but also wheels, shame, clothing, and God. She and her people spoke a very simple language. There was, for example, a noun meaning "saber-tooth cat," and this, by coincidence, was also a verb meaning "run!" - the world's first homonym. There was also a word for "woolly mammoth," and closely related words meaning "grab your spear" and "time to eat."

There was a special word, too, spoken only by women, meaning "come fuck me," similar to the sound a woman makes even today when she's naked, and her arms are wound about her lover, and her vagina is warm and wet, and she's impatient to have his penis inside her. That word has changed hardly at all over the last hundred thousand years.

The woman was speaking this word now as she reclined beneath a tree in the warm afternoon, legs spread to advertise her wares. She had very little sense of self, but she had a vague notion that she was young, pretty, and fertile, and a sort of expectation (hope had not been invented yet) that a man of the clan would soon heed her call.

A nameless man was squatting with his back to her, banging at a piece of chert with an antler. He turned, looked at her briefly, and went back to his work. Neither disappointed nor discouraged, she said her word louder so that men farther off might hear and respond to her need.

After a time that she thought neither long nor short, a young man emerged from among the trees, attracted by the word she had spoken - aroused, too, to judge by the condition of his penis. He approached warily - just yesterday a woman had boxed his ears for presumption when he'd tried to mount her. Inexperienced but learning quickly, he had made a mental note to look for signs of welcome before attempting to mount a woman again.

This one simpered as she repeated her word still louder and spread her legs wider to show him her moist and engorged parts. He took these gestures as encouraging signs and came nearer, unable to look away from her damp pinkness, which she was rubbing now with three fingers of one hand.

Not an arm's length away, he squatted in front of her and sniffed, checking for the odor of estrus. Unsure, he bent closer, breathed deeply and grunted in satisfaction.

If things had taken their normal course, the woman would now have turned around and presented her hindquarters to him so he could mount her.

But at this very moment, somewhere near the edge of the village, a man shouted the word for "woolly mammoth." This word is difficult to represent in writing: suffice it to say that if a man spoke it in your presence today, you'd feel an immediate impulse to pat him on the back.

In response to the man's call, men and women all over the village shouted this word, though with a subtle difference: they shouted it with a falling pitch ending in a sort of growl. Pronounced this way, the word meant "grab your spear."

The young man crouching between the woman's legs froze in indecision. Hunting the mammoth was important: it would feed the clan for many days. On the other hand, he was feverishly horny, having had no sex for what seemed a very long time, and reluctant to abandon his current project.

The woman was uncommonly bright (though the concept "bright" had not yet been invented) and immediately knew how to influence events in her favor. She grabbed him behind the neck and pulled his face down to her crotch, moaning "grab your spear" with a sexy growl (she had, by the way, just invented the metaphor - linguists and literary critics take note).

With his face planted in her wide, wet cleft, the estrus smell was stronger than ever, and his penis pulsed with his arousal. He grabbed it, just as she'd told him to, and pumped himself as he breathed her in.

"Time to eat," she called, this being the "woolly mammoth" and "grab your spear" word, but with a rising pitch, ending in a shriek.

Obediently, he opened his mouth and licked her slick and sopping wet slash from vagina to clitoris - and was instantly rewarded with a flavor so salty, so rich, so far exceeding the flavors of the grubs, nuts, and woolly mammoths that were the ordinary constituents of his diet, that he felt himself transported to new realms, he knew not where (thus was the first seed of religious devotion planted - theologians take note).

The woman held his head in place with strong hands that had skinned mammoths and cracked the bones of antelopes. "Yah!" she cried, a whole new word meaning both "feels good" and "eat me." Women continue to say this word to their lovers even today, and the meaning has changed little over the millennia.

Sliding sideways away from the tree she'd been leaning against, the woman fell on her back and thrust her pelvis upwards, grinding her sex against the man's mouth. The feeling of his lips sliding across her tender membrane, his nose and tongue jamming her clitoris, was so fine - and better yet, she was in control in a way she'd never been before, when men fucked her for a few seconds, came inside her, and left: now she could make it last as long as she wanted.

The cries of the people pursuing the mammoth were receding into the distance by the time she came, a huge orgasm that tore scream after scream out of her as she bucked, pummeled his back with her heels, and tore at his flesh with her nails. Only when she was calm again did she turn and allow the somewhat shaken young man to mount her.

Thus did a nameless woman invent cunnilingus. I rate her up there with Plato, Leonardo da Vinci, and Sir Isaac Newton for her contribution to human happiness.

3,000 BC: Power pussy

Some say Semiramis was the daughter of a fish-goddess and was raised by doves. For my part, I find the fish-goddess part plausible enough, the dove part less so. She was the wife of the first Assyrian king Ninus, and she ruled the kingdom after his death. Many historians (men, of course) have called her a slut. I say "You go, girl!"

Little was known about the reign of Semiramis till recently, when Abu Nuwas al-Hasan ibn Hani al-Hakami, Professor of ancient studies at the University of Baghdad, succeeded after many years in reconstructing a chestful of fragmentary clay tablets which proved to contain the original autograph of her diary. Following is an excerpt from the entry for the first day of her reign.

"I was closeted in my chamber, deep in mourning for my beloved Ninus, turning over in my mind with what pleasure I had often sucked his usaru in the moonlight under the great cedar in the palace garden. Ah me! Where will I ever find his like? Such kingly length, such regal girth! His very foreskin savored of nobility, not to mention the enormous quantity of his seed as it gushed into my mouth, my kuzbu, or, occasionally, my qinnutu. His magnificent potency gave me my beloved son Adad-Nirari, who will one day rule the people with strength and wisdom. He will crush his enemies and level their cities, slaughtering the men and enslaving the women (strange how even at such a dark time as this, one is capable of pleasurable thoughts).

"Suddenly a loud pounding on my chamber door jolted me out of my reverie.

"'Go away!' I shouted, for I was, as I've said, lost in mourning, and besides, it occurred to me that my gown was hiked up and my fingers were performing a nigut raqadi on my kiptu. This was a private moment.

"'Celestial Queen!' a male voice cried. 'Your Divine Presence is required in the Great Hall!'

"'Get somebody else!' I called through the door. 'I'm busy!' My kiptu was already shrinking, my kuzbu drying up, and I was getting pissed off.

"'Only the Most Holy Ruler of Heaven and Earth can help us!' The man choked out his words between sobs.

"'I'm not a ruler! I'm just a queen!'

"'You're all we've got, Celestial One.'

"'This had better be important,' I grumbled, 'or I'll have you beheaded.'

"I let my gown fall and opened the door. The High Priest and Royal Advisor was groveling on the floor - or maybe he'd been peering under the door.

"'A dispute has arisen, oh Divine Queen, and you must judge the case.'

"I sighed. I knew nothing about the law, less about judging cases, but, wondering why this was so fucking urgent, followed the High Priest down endless passageways to the Great Hall, where my beloved Ninus had so often dispensed his divine justice. Two noblemen were standing before the throne, glowering at each other as perhaps a hundred people looked on, hoping for entertainment.

"'These lumps of rotten meat are Akhiban and Shar-Eil, oh Holiest of Holies.' said the High Priest. He explained the suit. One of Akhiban's cows had strayed onto Shar-Eil's land and had spent a whole day grazing there. When Shar-Eil confronted Akhiban about this, he agreed to compensate him for the grass the cow had eaten, but they couldn't agree on an amount. During the current drought, the price of fodder has been increasing day by day. Akhiban offered to pay the price of the fodder on the day the cow had grazed, but Shar-Eil insisted that Akhiban pay the price of the fodder on the next day, when he had discovered his loss. The difference amounted to the twentieth part of a shekel.

"'I appeal to the all-wise Semiramis for justice,' said the men in unison.

"'The peace of the realm depends on your judgment,' added the High Priest and Royal Advisor.

"What was I to do? I knew nothing about the price of fodder. I had no idea who was right and who was wrong, but longed ardently to return to my chamber and resume my mourning.

"Then it occurred to me that I could decide the case and honor my dear Ninus's memory at the same time.

"'Are the two of you familiar with the ancient Bissuru-lisanu ordeal?' I asked.

"'No, Divine Majesty,' they both replied.

"'Then you are ignorant swine,' I said, starting to enjoy myself. 'In the ancient Bissuru-lisanu ordeal, the parties to a lawsuit take turns licking the kuzbu of the Divine Ruler, and whoever pleases her most wins.'

"The High Priest said, 'How can this be an ancient ordeal when we've never had a ruler with a kuzbu before?'

"'Take this man away and fling him into the dungeon,' I said. 'I'll deal with him later.'

"As the guards hauled the struggling priest away, I looked around the room and spotted a young nobleman with muscular calves, a narrow waist, broad shoulders, chiseled features, and flashing eyes. 'What's your name?' I asked him.

"'I am Matnu, oh Queen whose beauty shakes me to the very root of my usaru,' said the young man.

"'We'll discuss my beauty and your usaru later,' I said. 'You're the new High Priest and Royal Advisor. Do you have a shekel on you?'

"'I do,' he said, and withdrew a coin from a purse that hung suggestively from his belt.

"'Heads and Akhiban goes first, tails and it's Shar-Eil.'

"Matnu flipped the coin: it was tails.

"'Oh Heavenly Majesty,' said Shar-Eil. 'Never even with my wife . . .'

"'Then do you forfeit the suit?' I asked.

"'Never!' he snapped.

"I raised my gown and said, 'Come and get acquainted with your queen's kuzbu.'

"The people in the hall were jostling each other trying to get a good view between my legs. I don't blame them: that part of me really is worth seeing. My lipissati are fat and succulent, and between them my pink folds are long and symmetrical. My attendants shave, rouge and perfume my kuzbu every day to ensure that it's always beautiful. Dear Ninus only had to glance at it, and his usaru would grow to mammoth size.

"Looking as if he were being led to his execution, Shar-Eil advanced to between my legs, knelt, and bowed his head towards my crotch. He was old and stupid, but I was turned on by the idea of being eaten out in front of a crowd: never before had I had sex with more than a dozen or so servants and nobles in attendance.

"Impatient with his hesitation, I grabbed him by the forelock and yanked his head down to me. 'Put out your fucking tongue,' I hissed, 'and lick my kiptu.'

"He squeezed his eyes shut, stuck out his tongue, and licked. Doing it this way was pretty clumsy, but it was hot anyway - not only his tongue sliding in my slit from my hole up to my kiptu, but also my knowing he was doing this because I was making him. For the first time in my life I had real power: I could make things happen!

"'Oh, yah, eat me, babe,' I moaned as his warm breath ruffled my pubic hair. He was gradually getting into this, and I figured that whether he won the suit or not, I was doing him a big favor, teaching him a new way to please his wife.

"Really, though, his heart wasn't in it. I have any number of slaves who could do it much better. Eventually I got bored and decided enough was enough. 'Next!' I commanded.

"Akhiban was even older than Shar-Eil, and fat, but better dressed. He took his place between my legs and gazed admiringly at my kuzbu, demonstrating his taste and refinement.

"'Your beauty has captivated my heart, oh Queen,' he breathed. 'Your lips drip nectar, honey and milk; you are an orchard of pomegranates and all other fruits, of nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon . . .'

"'Enough!' I said. 'Enter my garden, and eat.'

"He bowed his head to my kuzbu and ate the honey from my honeycomb, slick and plentiful. His lips were soft as lambs' wool, damp as the morning dew, and the heat rose within me, from my kuzbu, like the life-giving sun on a summer day.

"But while I felt Akhiban's lips and tongue between my thighs, it was Matnu I was looking at. His head was the finest gold, his hair was wavy, his eyes were like doves and his cheeks were beds of sweet-smelling herbs. Standing back where only I could see him, he made a lascivious gesture, as if he were jerking off an enormous usaru.

"I imagined him stripping for me and showing me his usaru: I'd hold it in my hand, feel its warmth, feel it grow. I'd take it in my mouth and savor the lovely salty drops that would leak out of it. He'd eat my kuzbu, lively eyes peering at me over my mound as his tongue plowed my fertile valley. Then I'd take him in my hand and guide him into me . . .

"Akhiban's lips were closed over me and his tongue tickled my kiptu as he sucked gently: oh, the man knew how to eat a queen. But it was when Matnu, grinning, put out his tongue and licked the end of his long nose that I came, shrieking and thrashing.

"It took me a while to recover my breath. When I could speak again I announced, 'Akhiban wins the suit.' The crowd broke into applause as Shar-Eil, scowling, handed his opponent a copper coin.

"It won't be easy serving as regent till my son comes of age, but I think I can handle the duties reasonably well. And though I often feel crushed by the loss of my Ninus, I'm starting to believe I'm strong enough to bear the sorrow."

600 BC: Lust on Lesbos

"It's a beautiful poem," said Atthis, "but I can't say I understand it." She sat on the couch's edge, frowning at the papyrus in her hands.

"Perhaps," said Sappho, leaning back against the cushions, "to perceive its beauty is understanding enough."

"You are kind," said Atthis, "but still I'd like to know. Take this stanza: 'The stars around the full moon lose their lovely brilliance when she shines silver over all the world.' It's perfectly true, you can't see the stars near the moon, but why mention this in a love song?"

"Because," said Sappho, running a carefully manicured finger over the polished wood of the couch, "when my love is near, I am unable to perceive anyone else's beauty."

"I'd like to know this love of yours," said Atthis.

"You do," said Saphho, smiling, "very well."

"Such mystery!" Atthis shivered despite the night's warmth. "Now this one: 'Come, Aphrodite, and serve delightful nectar from the golden cup.' Nectar is delightful, of course, but why reduce Aphrodite, our noble goddess of love, to a serving girl?"

"Why, Aphrodite serves us whenever we taste the body's delights," said Sappho.

"I'm afraid you've lost me."

"Tell me," said Sappho, sitting up and leaning a little forward, "which part of your body is most like a cup?"

"The mouth?"

"The mouth is indeed like a cup," said Sappho, touching her friend's lower lip with a delicate finger, "and it is a delight, especially when the lips are beautiful and the breath is sweet, like yours. But the nectar . . .?"

"You can't mean . . ." Atthis giggled with nervous excitement.

"Of course I can," said Sappho, laying a hand lightly on Atthis's knee. "Few things are more delightful than the nectar that Aphrodite pours from our golden cups."

Atthis felt a warmth in her breast, below her heart. "Oh, that's a beautiful thought."

Sappho touched her cheek and gazed into her eyes. "Not as beautiful as the silver moon that shines in my night sky, blinding me to everything but her brilliance," she said, voice low and whispery.

It was like a slap, the way Atthis suddenly became aware of her friend's exotic beauty: hair dyed violet and tied up with white blossoms, olive skin flawless, eyes warm and dark, lips parted with lust - for her, for Atthis!

"Oh," she breathed, as Sappho leaned forward and kissed her. They had often kissed before, as friends do, but now Sappho's lips were hot, and one hand stole around Atthis's shoulders, pulling her closer, while the other found a sensitive, erect nipple and gently massaged it through the linen of her gown.

Atthis rested her hand on her friend's shoulder, where a brooch held up her gown. With a sudden surge of boldness, she plucked at it and it came away: the gown fell, revealing a perfect, small-nippled breast, which Atthis cupped in her hand.

"You do understand the poem," Sappho sighed, her breath warm as a summer breeze and sweet as arum; her fingers unfastened Atthis's gown and played over her naked skin.

Atthis tingled, her flesh hot, breath coming shallow and rapid as Sappho inclined her head and took one swelling nipple into her mouth. Ah, gods! If Atthis was the silver moon, Sappho was the sun, all golden like Aphrodite's cup and overflowing with . . .

"Nectar," Atthis whispered. With deft touches Sappho released her own remaining brooch and Atthis's, their gowns fell away, and they dipped their fingers into each other's nectar.

Atthis's heart fluttered within her. She couldn't speak; her tongue was frozen. Subtle flames raced beneath her skin, her sight left her, and there was a buzzing in her ears. She trembled with desire momentarily suppressed, and then gave herself over to it and sank to her knees between Sappho's thighs.

She hadn't expected beauty here, but here was beauty: Sappho's outer labia were smooth and bare, as was right for a high-born lady: Atthis kissed them tenderly (eliciting a sigh) and breathed deeply: her lover's sex was scented with rose and almond, not masking but enhancing her womanly perfume. With gentle fingertips she parted the labia and admired the perfectly formed pink inner lips, shining with moisture, still together, concealing the mysteries within.

She traced those lips ever so lightly with the tip of her tongue and felt a shiver run through Sappho's body: her own body responded with a shiver of its own, and a thrill that whirled through her. Her tongue burrowed into her lover's cleft and slipped into her warm, damp center. Here the rose and almond perfume faded, and the womanhood was stronger. It pooled, milky and fragrant, at the base of her. Atthis dipped her tongue into it and moaned with the pleasure of it.

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