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With my feet behind my neck and my head tilted slightly forward, I could see my own landscape, my pubic mound, even my cleft, in full detail. I remembered what he wanted, I reached out my slim arms and grasped his thick neck and pulled myself to him like climbing a tree. I could caress his broad hips’ hard muscles with my small hands, or sink my thin fingernails in and pull him to me, while his tired warrior comforted himself in my warm, wet, soft nest. It was not difficult for me to do this. That’s what the tiny tuft of hair just above my slit, which I had deliberately not cut, was for. I was like a desperate castaway clapping her hands in panic to not drown in the sea.