I’m always shocked at my own wetness. Cumming is a release for me, but it’s usually a utilitarian endeavor when I’m by myself even with delicious fantasies playing in my mind.
Last night, I softly stroked myself, deeply, lovingly. And I thought of the many Georgia O’Keeffe paintings I’ve seen over the years. I now know that’s not what she meant, but I still thought of my own unique flower.
I never gave much thought to my sweet pussy until a few months ago. It never even occurred to me that every woman looks different. Of course we do, just as no two cocks are alike. As I’ve grown in my own sexuality and understanding of my body, I have learned so much.
I love my pussy. It’s perfect for me. My sensitive petals are tucked inside like a treasure waiting to be discovered. You do not know what I offer until I’m spread wide. I have to be opened up in order to truly be seen.
I am soft and delicate. I am hidden away, waiting for the perfect touch. My juices flow like water and ooze like cream, the reaction changing with the touch. My clit is a soft little nub hoping for love from a finger, a soft tongue, or gentle teeth.
My cunt is perfect for me. I often wonder who else it may be perfect for…who else might enjoy my soft petals and unique fragrance.