love your cunt

March 3, 2019

The woman I just started seeing said to me over the phone, ‘I love your ass, I love your tits. I love your cunt. I would like to congratulate the architect’. It made me feel so worthwhile, so precious. It was also tied to a recognition that my femmeness was appreciated.

Madeline Davis
The Femme Tapes
The Persistent Desire

Christmas Anthem

December 11, 2016


Christmas has come! let affection and folly,
Run through the land from the North to the South,
Hang up the mistletoe, nail up the holly,
Frolic and fun be the talk of each mouth,
For each one to flirt, and to drink, and to eat;
Aged and Young, come! now, this is the Season,
All have enjoyment — my prick “sees no reason,”
Why Christmas should pass, and he not have a treat.

Ruddy his tip, as the bright Holly merry!
Round are his balls, as the Pudding so gay;
White pearly drops, like the Mistletoe berry,
They shall distil from his touch-hole to-day.

I will sip toddy, forget worldly scheming.
Prick! I feel for you a friendship sincere;
Pledge me in a draught, and your top ruddy beaming,
Shall quaff the Sweet Cunt Juice, for Christmas is here!

Christmas is here! so my prick, what you fancy,
That you shall have for your holiday fare;
From the black curly jock of the stately Miss Nancy,
To young Kitty’s sweet cunt, that can’t boast of a hair.

Come! my tail full bosomed fairy of twenty,
Come! little golden haired maiden of eight,
Look round the room, there are partners in plenty,
But nothing like Prick for a Christmas-time Mate!

Let the snow fall — we care not for the weather,
Pile up the logs on the gay crackling Are;
Then shall Queen Cunt and King Prick meet together,
And our sighs of enjoyment in silence expire.

Come! ’tis but once a year — let there be blindness,
To what our warm feelings incline us to do;
Come, merry maidens, and show my Prick kindness,
And straight he will strive to give pleasure to you!

Touch with your hand, let your sweet taper fingers,
Electric-like thrill him from root unto tip;
Then while the warmth of that contact still lingers,
Caress the sweet darling with tongue and with lip.

Press to your bosom — then glide to your Cunny,
Into your belly he’ll pour his “good cheer;”
“Will you spend in my bum?” “Should like to, My Honey!”
We will do what we like now, For Christmas is Here!


The Pearl
Christmas Annual 1881


She had black silk stockings on covering her knees, but I was unable to see up as far as the cunt (this name, which I always use for Simone, is, I think, by far the loveliest of the names for the vagina). It merely struck me that by slightly lifting the pinafore from behind, I might see her private parts unveiled.

Now in the corner of the hallway was a saucer of milk for the cat. ‘Milk is for the pussy, isn’t it?’ said Simone. ‘Do you dare me to sit in the saucer?’

‘I dare you,’ I answered, almost breathless.

The day was extremely hot. Simone put the saucer on a small bench, planted herself before me, and, with her eyes fixed on me, she sat down without me being able to see her burning buttocks under the skirt, dipping into the cool milk. The blood shot to my head, and I stood before her awhile, immobile and trembling, as she eyed my stiff cock bulging in my trousers. Then I lay down at her feet without her stirring and for the first time, I saw her pink and dark flesh cooling in the white milk. We remained motionless, both of us equally overwhelmed.

Georges Bataille
Story of the eye


O Tania, where now is that warm cunt of yours, those fat, heavy garters, those soft, bulging thighs? There is a bone in my prick six inches long. I will ream out every wrinkle in your cunt, Tania, big with seed. I will send you home to your Sylvester with an ache in your belly and your womb turned inside out. Your Sylvester! Yes, he knows how to build a fire, but I know how to inflame a cunt. I shoot hot bolts into you, Tania, I make your ovaries incandescent. Your Sylvester is a little jealous now? He feels something, does he? He feels the remnants of my big prick. I have set the shores a little wider. I have ironed out the wrinkles. After me you can take on stallions, bulls, rams, drakes, St. Bernards. You can stuff toads, bats, lizards up your rectum. You can shit arpeggios if you like, or string a zither across your navel. I am fucking you, Tania, so that you’ll stay fucked. And if you are afraid of being fucked publicly I will fuck you privately. I will tear off a few hairs from your cunt and paste them on Boris’ chin. I will bite into your clitoris and spit out two franc pieces…”

Henry Miller

Tropic of Cancer


Your grace may soon to human arse retire.
My pleasures for new cunts I will uphold,
And have reserves of kindness for the old.
I grant in absence dildo may be used
With milk of goats, when once our seed’s infused.
My prick no more to bald cunt shall resort –
Merkins rub off, and often spoil the sport.
Let merkin, sir, be banished from the court.
‘Tis like a dead hedge when the land is poor.
It is not fit that cunt should wear a tower.
As for my queen, her cunt no more invites,
Clad with the filth of her most nasty whites.
Borastus, you spend your time I know not how.
The choice of buggery, sir, is wanting now.
I would advise you, sir, to make a pass
Once more at Pockenello’s loyal arse.
Besides, sir, Pene has so soft a skin
‘Twould tempt a saint to thrust his pintle in.
When last, good sir, your pleasure did vouchsafe
To let poor Tooly’s hand your pintle chafe,
You gently moved it to my arse – when lo!
Arse did the deed which light hand could not do.
True, I remember how my sperm did flow.
Truly, I’m in arrears to thy rewards.
But let’s be active while the time affords,
And Pockenello for a mate I’ll choose.
His arse shall for a minute be my spouse.

Anonymously written play attributed to John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester

Cunt poem

September 15, 2015



April 12, 2015


from lungs that fill your whole body
because you can’t keep it in and you won’t let it out
the storm that blows ocean through you, wind, smoke
so huge I have to suck in air to help
I love your scream
because you scream tears into my eyes
I love your scream
because it howls through all your beautiful holes
I love your scream
because of everybody who has ever screamed
Scream into my mouth
Scream into my cunt
Scream into my clever hands
Scream into this poem
Lover, when you suffer for me
Scream for me


Dived down…

March 22, 2015


“I just dived down. It couldn’t have been too fast. Time was being so slow and warm. And there it was. A pussy, the singular place on a girl, it’s where I’m going. Wiggly thing, like soup, like a bowl. Another mouth. Like lips between her legs and the taste of it. Piss and fruit. I pressed my face against its bone and it moved. She was letting me. All this was happening. I smelled the future right there, a present and a past. All that went through her, known through the soft sweet flesh of her lips and clit. It was like my face felt loved temporarily. I wasn’t even long this feeling of total rightness. I was telling her clit a story. If there is a warm disassociation this was it: placing my head one night on her warm puss and lapped. I felt plunged into a tropical movie in which light was bathing my head and her pussy, her cunt, her crotch was a warm smile and for a moment I lived in her sun.”

Eileen Myles

She arches her body….

February 17, 2015


She arches her body like a cat on a stretch. She nuzzles her cunt into my face like a filly at the gate. She smells of the sea. She smells of rockpools when I was a child. She keeps a starfish in there. I crouch down to taste the salt, to run my fingers around the rim. She opens and shuts like a sea anemone. She’s refilled each day with fresh tides of longing.

Jeanette Winterson
Written on the Body