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A way to describe female masturbation
Becky was Searching the clam for pearl
My husband pulled my tight skirt up, to get a peek of my Clam-sliver.
My husband lifted my tight skirt and exposed my Clam-sliver.
because its the flappiest part of the vagina it is the optimal spot for a raspberry: when one presses their lips against the labia majora and blows air making a sloppy wet sound.
Me: hey Chris, I clam flapped your wife last night...
Chris: "oh yeah, I was gonna clam flap her last night too but she was on her rag. BURN!"
A vagina that is loose, saggy, and smells like fish.
Once I was her clam patty , I tapped out.
NastyPussy Thots SummersEve
The act of two humans who, at the time of interaction, possess a vagina (and oftentimes a clitoris) and achieve sexual pleasure and/or release by repeatedly rubbing, or pressing together forcefully, their respective vaginas against one another. For you see, a vagina oft resembles the partially open shell of a clam and the sound of two vaginas coming together may produce a sound akin to that of the common hand-clap.
John: Brian, my 'ol chum! Foretold was your journey to the playground with the rising sun. What tidings do you bring?
Brian: Greetings John, my most trusted confident! I bring news of great consternation.
John: Say it is not so! What happening has produced such a bother which may quake us to the very bone?
Brian: Why, tis of my mother. For you see, my dear mama and her lady companion Mary are at this very moment clapping clams on the settee in the conservatory.
John: Holy fucking shit dude. That's awesome!
Brian: Not for the upholstery.
The act of two humans who, at the time of interaction, possess a vagina (and oftentimes a clitoris) and achieve sexual pleasure and/or release by repeatedly rubbing, or pressing together forcefully, their respective vaginas against one another. For you see, a vagina oft resembles the partially open shell of a clam and the sound of two vaginas coming together may produce a sound akin to that of the common hand-clap.
John: Brian, my 'ol chum! Foretold was your journey to the playground with the rising sun. What tidings do you bring?
Brian: Greetings John, my most trusted confident! I bring news of great consternation.
John: Say it is not so! What happening has produced such a bother which may quake us to the very bone?
Brian: Why, tis of my mother. For you see, my dear mama and her lady companion Mary are at this very moment clapping clams on the settee in the conservatory.
John: Holy fucking shit dude. That's awesome!
Brian: Not for the upholstery.