And I’ll say one more thing, while I’m going on.
I love Jules’s pussy.
I do.
I love it.
It’s..the most beautiful thing I’ve seen—on a person. I mean I love sunsets and I love beaches and mountains are o-k. But Jules’s pussy—fuck me.
It’s..
The contrast is part of it. I love white pussy, no doubt. And there’s even something special about white pussy, that black pussy doesn’t have..there’s a softness, or a tenderness, or a little-girl-ness, to white pussy, that black pussy doesn’t have. But it goes both ways. Because Jules’s pussy..there’s something to it..that no white pussy I’ve ever encountered..has possessed.
It’s the color, in a way—in a way it is. I’ve already told you that the damn contrast between the inside and the outside of Jules’s pussy is part of what I like about it. We all love pink, yeah? Well with Jules it isn’t pink: it’s red. And that red is so much hotter—so much more womanly—than any pink could ever be.
But it’s also the tightness. White pussy is more like gum—like a very nice, tight, hot, wet, muscular piece of gum. And I can come just fine in white pussy—that’s not a problem. But Jules’s pussy is like a fist. It grabs me. It can hold onto me. It can take me differently. It’s textured differently.
Mostly what it comes down to, I’m sure, is that I’m white and so as a child I developed different ideas—and more ideas—about white pussy than I did about black pussy..or Asian pussy, or any other kind. This isn’t going to become an academic discussion on pussy, however. Suffice it to say that I like the one on Jules.
Not like. Love.