Lovely pussy, or do I call you vulva, yoni, cunt? You are me. We share secrets and desires. You are tied to my heart and there’s also a thread attached between you and my brain. Part of me.
You hold the memory of my first sexual explorations; discovering masturbation, my first orgasm, the first time a tongue touched your lips and clit, the first fingers that were not mine caressing and probing you, the awkward and the divine, the first penetration and all the emotions and desires that came along with it. Life long companions
in pleasure and mediocrity.
I’ve laid you out as a piece of art. Brush and colors sliding across
the page until a semblance of you is hung proudly, yet shyly on my
wall. Then comes the inspiration of blood and I pressed your cherry
lips to kiss the page that I may see you for who you really are, not
just what my hands try to create. You are art embodied in the
complexity of your dark curls, soft creases and folds, ripples of skin
that become taught when aroused and engorged.
You have this amazingly soft spot from introitus to perineum with a
texture finer than silk. I love to stroke this part of you and then
feel the coarseness of your hair in comparison. A well of textures,
contours, and energy.
We’ve had great adventures you and I. Spread wide for all the room to
see as Nina Heartly strokes our G-spot and I hold the wand to my clit
and we soak her hand and the sheets, perhaps the whole room with our
ejaculate. Remember the first time we ejaculated? So unexpected so
delicious a sensation; of course we took lots of time to practice that
skill didn’t we!
You’re perfume changes like the seasons as we move through the month.
Sharp and metallic with fresh blood, clots catching in my pubic hair.
Then you settle to a subtler scent, delicate and warm as you start to
shift to a muskier smell rounding the corner back to bleeding time.
There have been darker times too. Times when we were consumed with
fear and pain. Closed down not knowing what was happening, just the
day to day discomfort and pain. I was so afraid you would never
experience pleasure like you used to, raw and sick as you were. I
would get angry and impatient at you, feeling pressured, wanting all
of it to be over with and blaming myself for your sorry state. We are
still healing from it. There’s still a need to go slow with
penetration. Can’t fuck like we used to can we?
You communicate things that I’d rather not hear. No! I don’t want to
slow down! Emotions become physical through you, tensing, and becoming
sore, succumbing to infection as I push and push not wanting to
acknowledge your needs.
Now we are in another place of transition. Emotions flowing through
me, feeling like I need to clamp down on my sex to push through. You
have patiently gone to sleep, asking only for small releases from time
to time. I opened up today though and you came out of your slumber
dancing like you always do with those ripples of sensation that course
through my body. You told me what you wanted and I tried my best to
give it to you.
You are hungry now but don’t want to gorge yourself. Rather you crave
a savoring of sensation, appreciation, and love. I’m still not sure
how to get you what you want, not sure if I can let go like that,
surrender, be vulnerable and take so much in.
No matter what, we are in this together. You are me, my beautiful