Friday pussy blogging Antiquarians: Apologies for posting later on a Friday than I usually do—I've been pressed for time. On the upside (for me, at least) this post comes to you on stiff breeze from the warm spring day just ending in Bryant Park, Manhattan, which has WiFi. Before me, the back side of the New York Public Library; to my right, and up, the silver radio mast of The Empire State Building, and all around me tubs of daffodils, city sparrows, and New Yorkers striding along the flagstones, going about their several business and pleasure. The table at which I sit is green; the wooden slatted chair in which I sit to write is green—Reminds me of the Tuileries—except, of course, that the Tuileries has a more provincial air, not being located in The Capital of The World. This week's Friday Pussy Blogger is Pagan Moss, who runs two great sites: S.L.A. (Sensual Liberation Army), which is crammed full of movies and pictures for your pleasure, and Peep Show Stories, remarkable for its combination of the raw and refined. And now, here she is:
Pussy and the Brain
My pussy crawled into my brain when I was five.
The neighbor girl did it—made my pussy grow a tail, which grew and grew until it reached the base of my skull. The tail was more clever than my pussy and somehow managed to push its way through into my brain, where it plugged in. I don't think my brain appreciated it and they didn't get along for sometime.
But things have a way of changing...
It started one night after me and my boyfriend finished fucking. It had been a long, hot and dirty fuck, practically murder. After all the fuck had been fucked out of both of us, we rolled over onto our sides and just laid there like the dead, bathing in our etheral glow. I was just drifting off into nothingness when I heard them start in.
Pussy: Hmmm... that was incredible. Maybe the best ever?
Brain: Yep... I don't recall a nicer fuck, myself.
Pussy: Why so good tonight? Do you think we're in love with him?
Brain: Could be, I suppose... although I've been wrong about that one before. Maybe it's because you're pushing 30 now? Just tipping into your prime?
 Pussy: Man... almost 30. Where did the time go? I can remember like yesterday when we first met.
Brain: Yeah, you were five, right.
Pussy: Yep.
Brain: Soft and pink, and so innocent. That is, until that little neighbor girl got a hold of you. I wonder how different things would have been if she hadn't let it out of the bag so soon?
Pussy: I dunno, maybe we would have gotten along better? Maybe worse? Who knows?
Brain: Some might say you were lucky... that at least you snapped out of it early and realized there was something different about you—something special. You weren't just some dumb little toe, that's for sure.
Pussy: I suppose you're right—you being the brain and all. So maybe it wasn't so bad that I met you early. But what about you? You weren't too keen on meeting me, remember?
Brain: Being a brain is great and all, but when you're a kid, you're only as good as what your parents dump into you... or leave out. I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but they didn't like you much—not one tiny little bit, actually. They called you the "evil one." They said it was bad to even look down at you so I was intimidated, naturally, didn't know what to expect when we first hooked up. Of course, later on, you made me feel better than I'd ever felt before.
Pussy: Yeah, I remember it started with the diddling—just once in awhile before bedtime. And then came the discovery of Aerobicize and late night HBO, along with the unearthing of dad's secret cache of vintage Playboys... . hundreds of them in mint condition no less. Those were the days. You couldn't keep your hands off me back then.
Brain: That's weird, hearing you talk about it like that—it makes me almost miss those days. Makes me wonder why I was so stressed out back then.
Pussy: Talking about 'em makes me miss them, too.
Brain: Remember when you started bleeding, sprouting hair, and dating boys?
Pussy: Yeah, I remember how you hid my bloody underwear away from momma for months. That was weird.
Brain: Yeah, I'm not sure why I did that. Looking back, some things are clear and some aren't. I remember how I used to hate the way the young boys gave you all the attention and ignored me. Of course, I understand now, but back then I hated them sometimes for it. They didn't seem to care about me, they just wanted you. Sometimes I even hated you for the way you fucked them. How you seemed to be able to do it with such ease, it amazed me. It was like you hadn't a care in the world—just doing what you were made to do. No more a criminal than a nose smelling a rose or hair bristling with fear. I guess I felt more like a sex-crazed animal, fucking my way towards hell.
Pussy: I'm sorry, I had no idea.
Brain: Ahhh... That's okay, it actually feels pretty good getting this all off my chest. Besides, I know better now. It might have taken me all these years to unlearn every Goddamn crazy thing those people planted in me, but I've come around. I've seen the light. I dunno, maybe it is pushing 30.
Pussy: Hey... maybe we should celebrate, you know, now that we're talkin' and all. Maybe do something crazy to make up for lost time.
Brain: I hear they're hiring at the Lusty?
[All rights retained by Pagan Moss] NOTE: When Pagan sent in the photo, she noted that it wasn't "complete" because she didn't have access to Photoshop just then. I didn't notice anything missing... But maybe later in the week she'll have access to better tools? {NA} NEXT WEEK Antiquarians, if you'd like to guest post about pussy drop me a line. FRIDAY PUSSY BLOGGERS The Creative Spanked Wife, Freya, Eden, Virgin Slut (all hail Rosalind Russell!) LAST WEEK Lili G.
>> posted by John Psmyth • 4/08/2005 02:15:00 PM •
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All characters and situations fictional. Copyright (c) 2003-2007 by "John Psmyth."
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