
Right now, I have an itchy vagina. As I type this, my fingers smell of my cunt – and specifically of the crusty gook that was coating them after I’d reached down into my knickers to rub my vulva. I think there’s a correlation between how heavy my period is and how itchy my vagina is as it comes to a close, and while I can’t prove that, I can write (terrible, but it is 1am after all) poetry about my itchy vagina.
This is my fifth (and final) post for Smutathon! Today, fourteen sex writers are spending 12 hours creating as much filth and fuck-positive content as possible to raise money for The National Network of Abortion Funds: please donate here, or check out the bottom of this post for more info. CONTENT NOTE for graphic description of my period.
My vagina itches,
so I reach between my legs to scratch.
My fingers come out covered in gunk
– fuck they smell good, I’ll be in my bunk.
My vagina itches,
because my period is almost done.
The blood on my pads is now dry and brown
it makes me itch and squirm and frown.
My vagina itches,
but I try to ignore the irritation.
I know rubbing it will make it worse
so I sit on my hands and write crappy verse.
My vagina itches,
so my hand creeps into my knickers.
In a minute of poking I find the right spot
but a second later it hurts and I have to stop.
My vagina itches,
and I think I know what it wants.
But I can’t get my fingers inside my cunt
so instead I desperately wank and grunt.
My vagina itches,
and it’s soon tender and swollen and sore.
My labia is puffy and vulva hurts
a delight for only sadistic perverts.
My vagina itches,
and I’m all too aware of it’s discomfort.
It will briefly stop when I sit down to pee:
for four glorious seconds I’ll be itch free.
My vagina itches,
in a way I notice when I stand up.
The last bits of uterus lining are slipping away –
my period will be over within the next day.
My vagina itches,
and I want to lie down in the bath.
Clean away the gunk and the dried blood
that today (as I said) is the colour of mud.
My vagina itches,
and quite frankly my body feels gross.
There’s blood clots and dead skin and vaginal goo
And yes if I’m honest, there’s probably poo.
My vagina itches…
ok, technically it’s my vulva.
But when it’s my vagina that continues to ooze,
I can call it whatever I damn well choose.
Smutathon is an annual fundraising erotic writing challenge, and this year we’re on a twelve-hour-long filth writing adventure to raise funds for The National Network of Abortion Funds. Please support us by donating here:

Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a freelance journalist, sex writer, and professional transsexual. His work focuses on dismantling shame and queering sex.