Dear Pussy,

Oh God. I’m scared to even tap into you right now, dear pussy. What will you want from me if I listen? What counterproductive behaviors will I have to give up in order to feel the subtle sensations that flow through you? It’s still so hard for me to teach you. What’s that Lepei Colony Island in Hawaii? You’ve been made that for me. Never-touch land. Remembering mom and papa saying “ish, ish, we don’t touch there.”

Why the hell not? Why is just a body part like the bane of humanity? How on earth could I have thought for so many years that you’re dirty and spoiled and diseased and flawed and dangerous? Fuck this set of patterns that has you neglected and practically criminalized.

So much experience with saying no to you, whether that meant more or less attention. And now we’re venturing into exploring the feminine. Other women’s pussies. We’re all so different yet there’s a thread of something so simultaneously strong and delicate that ties us together.

I never thought life would look this way. I thought we were going to open when we found just the right owner and operator. Someone who would just tap into us effortlessly, no words required. I get as mad at other people when they don’t do what you want as I do with myself. I wish I knew everything about you. I wish I was better about making you a top priority. I wish I could release the blistering comparisons that I make between you and other women’s pussies and bodies and orgasms.

I want you to be worshiped, so I will worship you.
I want you to be valued, so I will value you.
I want you to be played like the finest instrument, so I will gladly play your scales.
I want you to feel nourished, so I will nourish you.
I want you to be open and juicy, so I will shower you with attention.
I want you to be healthy, so I will be your sexual doctor.
I want you to have as many flavors of experience as you want, so I am willing to say yes.

Love,
Beth C
San Francisco, CA

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