Moaning the word cunt – How instinct shapes our words
Moaning the word cunt happens to incest mothers when we’re truly lost in the pleasures of an incestuous sex act. It’s as if the word was waiting for us to speak it. During a recent get together with 3 other moms, we unraveled the mystery of how our intimate taboo desires created a shared language.
Watch me and my son have real incest sex
The Unspoken Lexicon
The four of us sat in our usual corner of the café, where the afternoon light filtered through the steam of our tea. We’ve been meeting monthly for awhile now, sometimes we even see each other every two weeks or so. We’re a mother’s group of a different sort. Our commitment to our offspring has transended into adulthood. So we come together with a shared understanding that the majority of people cannot comprehend.
It’s good to have friends that can relate to your unique perspective. Even better when personal experiences offer support for the trials and tribulations that our unique family situation presents. But what keeps us vigilant to seeing through these get-togethers is the reflection and self discovery we attain through our commonalities. Recently the discussion turned to the love dialogue we use in our intimate encounters and we were surprised to discover that regardless of the actual words chosen the trend was identical.
I’ve mentioned before that we often refer to ourselves in the third person, be it Mom, Mommy or Mama as part of our sexual flirtations. This of course continues during the act, where we will often refer to our respective sons similarly. Stuff like Mama’s boy, that’s a good boy, and baby. We know our son’s are adults now, we wouldn’t be doing this otherwise. But the history that we have together makes these terms of endearment fitting.
Maybe it’s the societal persecution, maybe it’s just the taboo nature of what we do. Whatever the cause, we seem to be tapping into something primal. And when we have sex, we encourage each other with words and expressions that we might otherwise never use. For instance, I love calling my son a Motherfucker, or Mama’s little motherfucker. A word that otherwise would be spoken in anger, to someone who really pisses you off. It has lost that negative connotation for members of my inner circle.
Speaking of angry words, most women I know really despise the word “CUNT”. It is illogical for a word to feel like a slap across the face, but yet it does for most women. But what the members of my little support group have discovered is when we are right in the middle of a hard, wet, sexual family connection… You know the head spinning, heavy breathing, don’t stop now, kind of moment, our vaginas become Cunts. And we liberally use the word to entice our lovers.
The Grammar of Connection
This is not about explicitness. It is about the vulnerability of being fully present, where words become more than communication—they become communion. A taste of the forbidden fruit, makes you want to make a meal of it. So we throw stereotypical behaviors into the wind and dance between the shards that fly back in our direction.
By the time we ordered our final round of tea, we had embraced the beauty of the phenomenon. So what if our most private expressions had echoes in others? So what if the world didn’t have a term for it? We all did it, and that was enough to seal the bond. At the end of the day we could only wonder if somewhere, in another café, another group of women might be having a similar conversation.
—
