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A couple of weeks ago my best friend in the whole world called me with a
crazy idea. "I want to get my clit pierced," she said and my mouth dropped
open. She and I did this kind of thing together... we had gotten our first
tattoos together and were planning on never getting anything else done
without at least each other's presence. I thought the idea over, and I
decided that I wouldn't mind getting maybe my labia pierced, but never my
clit. The following night I went into the place where she and I had gotten
our tattoos done and inspected jewelry, inquired prices and procedures. I
told the lady what my friend and I each wanted, and she responded that they
do not do clit piercings, but the would pierce the hood. After learning the
difference in the clit and the hood, I thought that would be the one for
me. I reported back to my friend, and after bringing her to check it out, and
another couple of days, we went together (with yet another friend) to get
pierced.
We ended up at a different parlor than the one we had anticipated (which was
okay, because the first would have cost us $35 more)... The piercer was
stunned that three beautiful ladies walked into his place just about near
closing time and all wanted the same thing. He led us to the back room,
and, holding hands, we followed. He explained the procedure, pulled out the
sterilized equipment (one sealed bag of utensils for each of us) and had the
first victim take her seat. My friend braved the chair first. Pants off,
spread eagle with her feet on the guy's legs, gripping each of our hands
firmly... She didn't even flinch! The needle went through without a hitch,
and soon she was up and admiring it in the mirror. It had been predetermined
that I go last, so our second friend took the chair. Pants off, spread
eagle, gripping hands ... she yelped. That was not encouraging. Tears came
to her eyes but never left them ... and soon she was up and admiring herself
in the mirror as well. Finally, the moment of truth. I took off my pants,
sat in the chair and started to breathe out of control. I hate needles!
But I love body art and this was something that I could keep and show only to
true appreciators of the art it represents. It seemed to take him unusually
long to get it into the forceps. They were tight and I almost squirmed out
of my seat. Then came the needle. I counted down from ten, screaming on 6
and 5 as the needle broke through to the other side of my skin. I was then
screaming "Get it out! Get it out!" My friends (who had taken my hands and
almost had their fingers crushed) reassured me that everything was fine
and I was done. Once the pain wore off (it wasn't as long as I'd thought it would
be) I sat up. My face had gone pale because I had worked myself up too
hard, but I stood steadily and, like my friends had done, I admired the titanium
ring dangling from my hood. I had done it, and I had survived! And that's
the story of my first piercing.
Submitted by: ChoirGeek@aol.com
Experience Added 01/31/2001