No Matter Whose or When

Sexual tendencies seem to contrast with the pussy’s disposition. There are, of course, coital proclivities that don’t involve the pussy, but those are beyond the scope of this narrative. Take any pussy! Imagine it for a moment! It’s surely easier if you have one already, or if you happen to be in proximity to this wonder. It’s a blessing, a dream come true to meet a pussy. Don’t get me wrong! You meet the woman first. But I’m beyond the head-to-head and heart-to-heart here. I’m referring exclusively to the pussy; that flexible, strapping passage with a soft, supple lining that provides sensation and lubrication, though the latter may require some help once in a while. After all, the pussy connects the womb (uterus) to the outside world (anyone that loves pussy). All those beautiful lips (the vulva), comprising the great lips (labia majora) and the little lips (labia minora), form that heavenly entrance, with the penisway or dildoway (cervix) protruding into the pussy to form the interior end (the best death). Now that we can picture another part of the picture, let’s savour the magic that is the pussy.

Pen and Vag

What is life? What is death? What or who are Pen and Vag? These questions and many others seemed to preoccupy an important part of my existence.

Pen was born blind, but his tactility was extremely sharp. He had a guide but in fact was seldom guided. He preferred to lead the guide, or perhaps to mislead him, for he possessed power; something the guide often lacked. His potency led him to many hot places, and that’s how he met Vag.

Vag personified Pen’s notion of the real meaning of happiness, for soon after their meeting, he fell head over heels in love with her. She was also born bereft of sight, but her tactile sense was much more powerful than Pen’s, and she too was given a guide who took great care of her. Despite Pen’s continuous courting, which always resulted in his most ardent salutation, she politely kept on refusing him, but let him, once in a while, feast on a quick kiss or a short brush of her lips. When near her, he acted like an obedient soldier facing his General. His behaviour triggered in her a feeling of respect towards him, and a subtle understanding developed between them. But for the time being, she wanted to keep their relationship at its initial state. Pen was very disappointed, and at times, his greetings were expressed quickly or without the energy that he used to put into them. This began to worry Vag who decided to give in and let him taste the fruit of his consistency.

It was dark and humid when Vag let Pen penetrate her. Before their joyous joining, he had given her his proudest salutation, standing erect with saliva of anticipation forming around his mouth. They copulated with passion and puissance, which they discovered to be deeply rooted in their nature. He performed the last seconds of his ejaculation around her lips, as if tracing an illegible line. This somewhat poetic output brought them to a new orgastic pinnacle that left them asleep, building for the future.

Vag was the first to awaken and welcome the morning after, but her appreciation of its brightness was very brief since the smell around her was somewhat off. She took a long, quiet bath, but as soon as she was getting ready to step out, Pen appeared with a selfish salute, prepared for another coupling. She agreed to open herself to him with some reluctance, but soon enough they were both in complete harmony.

Not so fast, my pussy-visaged friend! Lee Falk

It’s Only the Beginning

Pussy works in mysterious ways. The penis is practically perturbed when a pussy appears before it. Actually, one only needs to ponder over pussy to inspire both the penis and the pussy. Pussy persuades me to pursue this path to punitive pleasure. Punitive? Any portrayal of pussy becomes punitory if a pussy isn’t present. I don’t perceive a pussy at present. Do you? Lucky if you do! I’m still waiting for a pussy to ring my bell.

The Main Course

Pussy is always the main course; certainly not the penis, though many a teller present it as the principal protagonist. Anything pales in comparison, to the pussy, of course. A penis can be easily replaced. Try to replace the pussy. Don’t even dare to think that the anus or the mouth can replace it! They’re two proxies at best. Pussy, oh pussy! When will I play with you again?

My buzzer rang. Yes? I asked.

“It’s Canada Post. You have a parcel,” a woman’s voice replied.

Please come up, I replied and buzzed her in. A pussy is at hand, a pussy is at hand, I was singing in my head. My mind was flooded with images of pussies. I felt like a pussy. You know what I mean. I opened the door before she even knocked.

“Are you Maurice…?”

Yes, I replied before she could finish her sentence. But I can become anyone that you prefer.

“This parcel is only for you,” she smiled.

I don’t care about the parcel, but I do care about you.

“Oh! And why is that?”

I have a mirror your size inside. I’m sure that you’ll know why as soon as you stand in front of it.

“Thank you!” she laughed.

Please, come in! You can look at the mirror while I make us coffee or tea.

“I’m still working but I can come in for a tea.”

Splendid! I replied. Do you like peppermint in your tea?

“I do.”

I like it everywhere; also when it’s mixed in the bath with the hot water.

“That must be heavenly,” she smiled, reddening just a bit.

I would have suggested a bath with it too, but you have to finish work.

“Yes!” she laughed.

You can always come back after the peppermint tea for a peppermint bath. I’ll also cook for us and we’ll see what happens next.

“Oh I know what will happen next,” she giggled.

When should I expect you back? I asked while preparing the teas.

“We barely know each other,” she replied smilingly.

It’ll be a chance for us to remedy it. You’ll taste my cooking and I’ll hopefully taste you.

“You’re not wasting any time,” she laughed.

Life is short and I also have something for you in the parcel.

“You do?” she smiled inquisitively.

Yes! But I’ll only give it to you when you return.

“What could it be?” she thought out loud.

Come back soon! I promise that you’ll love it. We laughed and smiled for a few more minutes before she left. I even kissed her see-you-soon, which beats a goodbye every time. She promised to return after her shift, to at least get her gift. I had asked her to skip any freshening up before coming since she could do it here while I cooked for us. She agreed.

My buzzer rang again. Yes? I replied.

“It’s Penelope. I guess that I’m the parcel this time.”

Please come up, Penelope! I replied and buzzed her in. A pussy is at hand, a pussy is at hand, I was singing again in my head. I had prepared a hot bath for her, with peppermint, of course. I met her at the elevator where I kissed her, hello. She was still wearing her Canada Post uniform, which is one of the uniforms, along with the maid and the nurse, that I can look up to.

“It smells of peppermint everywhere. I love the smell.”

I love it too. I love your smell as well.

“I must stink after a day’s work.”

I only smelled you, not your day’s work.

“You’re being too nice. I gather that the smell of peppermint is coming from the bath.”

Yes! Your bath! It’s ready for you. Make yourself at home!

“Thank you,” she replied before kissing me.

I continued to prepare her meal and dress the dining table while she was taking her bath. Her meal? you may ask. I was going to eat pussy, not food.

I had left her a clean robe with a Hawaiian motif, but she came out of the bathroom only wearing a towel around her waist. I actually stopped typing after the word “waist.” I saw that singular scene in my mind and lost my words. Her breasts were medium in size (I personally like all sizes except for jumbo), but her nipples were the size of small pink quarters (Canadian or American). I was spellbound and she saw it.

You look ravishing, I may have mumbled.

“I wasn’t sure how you’d take it, but I like your reaction,” she replied with a big smile.

Thank you for feeling at home! I replied. You can take the towel off if you like.

“I’ll let you take it off later. I’m famished.”

Your meal is ready.

“My meal? We’re not eating together?”

I’ll nibble here and there, but you’ll be my main course. Can I nibble you a little before you eat?

“Now I know for sure that you’re French.”

I only speak, read and write French, but I’m not French.

“You have me in your apartment naked. You seduced me already. What are you trying to do?” she inquired smilingly.

You’re not naked yet. I can only see your beautiful breasts.

“Now you can see the rest of me,” she replied letting the towel fall to the floor.

Can you guess what happened next? Even I didn’t expect my reaction. I fell to my knees right there, somewhere between the living room and the kitchen, and embraced her, with my face planted, you know where. She giggled at first but then moaned a little as my tongue licked her pussy. But I stood up after less than a minute.

You’re hungry and I’m eating first. I’m sorry for thinking of myself first, I said.

“It’s my fault, not yours. I never met a man like you before. Are you for real?” she asked putting back the towel around her waist.

I took it off and put a clean one around her waist.

“Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?”

I wasn’t trying but now, I surely will, I replied and kissed her. Let’s eat! You’re famished, I added.

We ate a nutritious meal. That’s it about the food! I removed her towel, kissed her ass, repeatedly. I have to stop again. What a stunning ass she had; still has! I almost couldn’t let go of it. Little Maurice was screaming in my head. “Feed me,” Maurice! “Feed me,” Maurice!

“Take me to bed,” she asked. “I want you to make love to me,” she almost whispered.

I led her to the bedroom, embracing her from behind. She lay on the bed and I kissed every cm (about 39% of an inch) of her, from head to toe, licking and sucking certain areas; you can guess which. No? Her ears. Her mouth, of course. Her breasts. Let me remember! Oh, what a moment it was. Twice. Her pussy and her anus. I put them together because I had a little dilemma when I faced them both. The pussy was number one, of course. But her anus was singular. Perfectly round, pinkish, polished and pulsating! I was a little stunned. The pussy had a rival. No it didn’t! Come on! Remember the seven cardinal rules? Well, this one is the eighth. The pussy is the pussy is the pussy. I, of course, opted for the pussy first, glancing at her anus from time to time, to give my heartfelt regards. But then came its due, and I gave it my best. Don’t forget that it tasted lightly of peppermint.

After all the kissing and the licking and the sucking, she asked me to penetrate (it didn’t feel like I was about to fuck) her, holding me and moving against me and thus thrusting me even deeper into her and her pussy. Everybody screamed. It sounded like more than two people. But it didn’t take very long for little Maurice to want more. I want more, pulsed in him. Penelope and her pussy were more than open for another tête-à-tête with me and little Maurice in several permutations: Penelope and me, her pussy and little Maurice, Penelope and little Maurice, her pussy and me. It wasn’t a long list to carry through, eventually, near the wee hours of the night.

I washed her clothes while she slept and readied her uniform for the nearing morning. I returned to bed when I was done, feeling that I was probably hooked. I think that I had slept two hours when she woke up to get ready. I made her a nutritious breakfast, though no breakfast is the healthiest meal of the day (the keto way). She loved it, kissed me see-you-later, and left around 8 am. She had arrived at about 6 pm. Thus, we spent a sonnet (14) hours together. If that’s not a sign, there is no sign. Of course, there is no sign, but it’s fun to pretend that there’s one, just one.

I didn’t forget to give her her gift when she returned later that day. I’ll let you guess what it was.

Now! Every time that my buzzer rings, I know that it’s not Penelope from Canada Post.