An Ode to Wide Pussies
On having a wide on
When I want something in my mouth, my bottom lip drops. My saliva glands tickle. I gulp the spit back, then lick my bottom lip, which is fattier, doughier than my upper lip. My lips, my tongue, my mouth prepare for what I want.
My vagina is the same.
When I’m my horniest, my vulva spreads itself, and I have an urge to spread myself further. I know my lips are parted. I can feel them thickening and dampening. I want to reach my hands back behind my butt and put my fingertips where my vulva reaches my thighs and pull myself more open.
I want a wide pussy.
I want the place between my legs to feel like a black hole with gravity so heavy nothing near can escape. I’m the gatekeeper to a pleasure-obsessed, ever-expanding horizon.
I love my wide pussy.
When I feel wide, my husband says I don’t *feel* wide. I asked him after he made a few confused faces as I described this sensation. He said, “You feel pillowous and juicy.”
When I pressed my husband about what “pillowous” meant, he said, “It’s like the inverse of anal sex.” When I pressed him about what that meant, he said, “Like the opening isn’t tight, but the inside is plumped up and constricted from blood flow.”
I said, “Like warm, firm, slippery pillows are pressing his penis in 360 degrees.”
“Sure,” he said.
Talking about wide pussies feels revolutionary in a thin-preoccupied, loose-pussy shaming society. But that’s not why I’m doing it. I’m doing it because I love a wide pussy.
We could take the obligatory nod at human creation. But that’s not why I’m writing to it either. I love my wide pussy because it feels incredible.
Having a wide on feels incredible.
Thank you, reader. I hope you feel some deep wanting this week that spreads your whole heart wide open.
If you’d like to continue reading Happy Endings, might I suggest these recent pieces:
Or these vaginal pieces: