pussy.

Pussy is one of those words that initially make you cringe when you read it.

It’s vulgar, but it’s the type of vulgar that turns into honey as it rolls off of your tongue. The type of vulgar that your mom would pop you instantly for saying. The vulgar that comes in hushed tones after dark. The type you hesitate to say when you’re looking it dead in the eye, tasting it’s nectar.

But, it’s a pussy. Reclaim that shit.

There’s nothing else more feminine, more feline than a pussy. Graceful and delicate, folds tremble when parted, melting, constricting and contracting to the vibration of passion. Limbs dance as it’s pleasured, petals bloom at gentle touches. As rhythmic penetration intensifies, it purrs.

Pussy. It’s in my stories. It is written. It’s mine.