Cunt and Cock

I found this in my email box today... I really enjoyed it. It seems to be waking a desire to write again. We'll see if that goes anywhere.

It is pretty basic for me. I have a cunt. He has a cock.

My cunt is not a flower. It is not delicate with the aroma of rose petals. It is hot and wet and delicious and yielding. It smells like sex and womanhood.

My cunt does not need a capital letter. I am not a Woman, nor a womyn. My cunt does not come with an agenda. It prefers penetration and stimulation.

I do not need a coy or bashful or twee synonym for my cunt. I do not need to cross my legs and blush and feel shame about my sexual organ.

I don't need to "soften" my language. Sex is guttural and loud and full of passion. I don't wish to soften it or deny its pleasure. I want to be hoarse from screaming.

It is not a pussy. I have a pussy cat. Two in fact. I do not have a pussy cunt. I am not interested in weak jokes about stroking something hairy. And besides mine is usually hair free.

My cunt is not an ethereal spiritual being. It is my raw sexuality. It twitches and throbs and gives and clenches. It doesn't sing with a mellifluously soft tone. It grunts and revels in its wantonness.

Is cunt vulgar and crude? Good. who the fuck wants prissy clinicalised, "nice" sex?

He has a cock. It is hard and controlling.

He has no need to prettify it. He has no need to weaken its affect or call to me.

He doesn't need to giggle about his rampant desire. He doesn't need to hide or fear his strength over me.

He doesn't need to deny his masculine power. His potency pounds through His veins. He has no need nor want for frailty. The exquisiteness of His cock is in its rugged forcefulness.

I have a cunt. He has a cock.

His cock fits my cunt. His hardness fits my softness. Masculinity meets femininity.

The circle completes