Cunt and Cock Wars

After our six years living together, with my tears and recriminations on both sides, I wanted to tell Garth that I missed his cock wrecking havoc with my insides, his smooth forehead I loved to trace, and his big hands lying flat gently on my skin. Does he remember me with any fondness? He is one who recalls some of the good and certainly the bad.

Oh Garth, do you remember when you first said “Get on all fours,” and the pain, honey, how you pressed your cock against my cunt, pressed and slammed and still you couldn’t squeeze your way in. “Get on all fours,” you said, covering the span of my hips with your hands. Did you come into this world just to hold me so softly with those immense hands of yours? “Hold still, sh, sh,” you said, “that’s it, easy, easy now.” It hurt, really it did. And when you were in, bashing away and knocking at the end of my cunt which is my heart, you said, “You love this don’t you?” and I was thinking no, I don’t, but the thing is I loved you — so I placed my forehead on the bed, bit the pillow and my forearms, sucked in air and whooshed it out. Love hurts. It sears. Opens. So that love, in the name of Garth, or any name, any name will do, may enter. That’s the best time, when love leans against your cunt, doesn’t even ring beforehand, just plain out opens the door and enters. And looking back, I think Garth was right─love does win, but still, it’s one hell of a battle.

Copyright Janice Colman 2009