Madison James Is Dirty

My name is Madison James, and I am dirty.

Dirty is such an empowering word. Dirty women meet the world in the dirt. They encounter it like they encounter orgasm, without the slightest regard for anything other than giving in to the world in all its material, spiritual, intellectual and passionate expression. The world takes dirty women hard, in the dark and in the light, in private and in public. When you see me in the library reading, you think: bookish. But you may as well imagine me with my ass pressed against the library carol, my skirt above my waist, two fingers deep inside my cunt. See me rubbing my thumb around my clit in slow, persistent circles. See my breasts heaving, and hear those small moans escape my lips, slightly agape, the sure sign of a woman who has submitted to the world, a dirty woman. I know my fingers shoved up inside me represent you, the world, and I want to hear you tell me about how you're going to take me, how you're never, ever going to stop. Tell me all about how it doesn't matter where I am or what I'm doing, that I belong to you. That's what I'm thinking about when I shove my fingers in and out of my cunt, how totally helpless I am to stop these feelings that you give me, world. When my thumb rubs my clit, so slowly, the gradual buildup reminds me of your presence, everywhere. I can't escape you, I can't escape these feelings.

You see, this is the relationship a dirty woman has with the world: wherever she is, and whatever she is doing, she has transcended the distance between her mind and her cunt. It is in the cunt where she finds the ability to relinquish control, to be taken by the world and used. But it is in the mind where she can rejoice in the ecstasy of her own dirtiness, where she can see herself as if in a mirror, where she can watch herself lose control to the very experience you assume she must constantly facilitate. Her cunt whispers, "this feeling is the only thing there is, there has never been anything else and there never will be," and her mind responds, in the library, at the carol, with her head in a book, "yes, yes, yes."

Did you know that cunt has been considered an obscene word since the 17th century? The etymology is disputed, but the earliest known usage in English is "gropecuntlane," a word for a street where prostitutes hung out. I feel no compunction about my own obscenity. In your God stories, you talk about Eden; you talk about a time when the fact of your own nakedness was self-justified, and subject to no judgment, no confinement, and no restriction. In this place, you were content to exert no control, you rejoiced in the earthly pleasures of the garden. You had no choice about what you were allowed, you were denied even unto the knowledge of your own self. What could be more obscene? What could be truer than the existence that does not know but to exist? If you should look up from your philosophy for a moment and catch sight of me, if you notice my hips beginning a gentle rotation, as my fingers piston in and out of my cunt, and my thumb move more urgently over my engorged clit. If your eyes meet mine just as I reach orgasm, my body shuddering, my mouth forming the perfect silent "oh," could you deny that I reveal to you your lost Eden?

Look at the fat lips of my cunt, still wet from our moment just now. Regardless of whether I am reading, or walking down the street, or standing in the subway, with the bodies of the world pressed up against me, I have to keep myself from trembling with desire. When I am drinking my morning coffee, or sitting in my office perusing emails, or passing by you on the street, I am always a dirty woman, all tied up, waiting to be taken. I live every moment as if it is that moment right before I come, when I am open and vulnerable, when the last of my resistance has been torn away, when I rejoice in being taken, hard.

My name is Madison James. I'm typing this up in the library, right now, at a carol. I have one of those thick dark butt plugs in me just to remind me that you're always there. I'm waiting for you to look up from your philosophy, so I can tell you, world, about how your dominance breaks me down and takes me, all the time, every day. Isn't that what you want?