This is what he asked me as he traced the silky smoothness that had pooled beneath the bend of my knee and was dripping down the back of my calf.
“Wet enough to make you feel like you could drown” I answered.
“Wet enough to fill a bathtub so I can swim in it?”
“I think so. But would you want to?”
“I would. I would slather that pussy juice all over my body like lotion. Then I would lick it off every part of my body that I could reach. I love the way your pussy tastes. I could drink a glass full of it. I could wear it like lip gloss and taste you throughout the day, licking my lips and grinning in a meeting full of people. No woman has ever been this wet for me before. No woman has ever just lathered my dick and dripped down my balls like this. Chale, I’m going to pop a vein in my forehead from trying so hard not to come. I’m so close but your pussy feels so good. Your wetness around my dick feels better than my coming…”
“Babes, c’mon. Nothing feels better than coming.”
“Your pussy does. And besides, once I come it’s over. When I’m fucking you, as long as I’m fucking you, it’s still happening. When I’m inside you I feel like I can feel this feeling forever”.
I moved my hips up until our bellies touched and wetness trickled between the crack of my ass and pooled in a puddle on a bed. His dick was so large and full inside me I could feel every ridge, every curve, every vein. It was like he was inside my chest, touching my heart, making me short of breath. His hands lips trembled from the effort of holding back. I grabbed his butt cheeks in my hands and pushed him as far into me as our bodies would allow.
“Shit,” he said, as his hands gripped my ankles to spread my legs further apart and the wetness that had trickled down to my heel coated the space between his fingers “You’re even wetter than you were.” “How. Does. Your. Pussy. Get. So. Wet?” he punctuated every word with a shallow thrust.
“Whyyyyy. Does. Your. Dick. Feeeeel. Soooo. Gooood?” I punctuated every word with a slow hard wind against his pelvis.
I groped for his hand and intertwined fingers with his. I stuck my tongue in his ear, bit his earlobe and squirted all over his dick. The added sensation was too much.
“No V, no V, no baby, please.” He had already started shooting buckets of hot cum into me.
He looked at me with a faux-angry, trying-to-look-betrayed expression but we could both see the smile playing around the corners of his mouth. I stuck my hand between my thighs and scooped up all the wetness I could reach. I stuck my fingers in his mouth and made him lick it off.
Now, I’ve always been a wet girl, overly wet, I thought. As a teenager I had overhead two guys talking about some girl one of them had fucked and I heard Guy 2 giggle uproariously when Guy 1 disparagingly said the girl had been so wet it had felt like swimming in an ocean. Then, I heard my uncle who was a gynae talking to my father about some cases that had come to his clinic in Kumasi—women who had mixed a bunch of herbs and stuck it up their coochies to make them as tight as virgins so they could compete with the nyati nyati Tech girls who were stealing their husbands. The herbs, my uncle explained, were dessicators; they basically just dried up all the moisture in the vagina ensuring that the guy had to push against the dry walls to get in and once he was in he was being squeezed by pussy walls. That increased the feeling of tightness for dude, but also resulted in all these painful microscopic little tears. The last woman he had seen, my uncle said, was so dried out he had had to separate the walls of her vagina with forceps; they were essentially stuck together. I shuddered and left the room, giving away the fact that I was eavesdropping but chale that description….Nightmares! However, I think these two separate incidents subconsciously put the idea in my head that guys didn’t like their pussies too wet.
So I was always self-conscious about how wet I got and once I started hooking up with guys I was surprised at how much they loved it. A friend of mine mentioned in conversation that for him and women it was all about the fetri—the okro-ey silky …sliminess for lack of a better word. In his opinion, no amount of lube could replicate it. But how much fetri is too much fetri?
I know enough about biology to know that not every woman’s pussy juice feels the same—some are silky, some are thick and viscous, some are watery, some are almost sticky. Even with one woman different times of the month cause subtle changes. I am enough of a feminist to know there is no one ideal pussy juice. But I still wish there was more discussion about the almighty p.j. I think it is one of the diverse and interesting aspects of sex and I wish I could go around the world looking at everyone’s and getting some idea of if mine is really as unique as I’ve been told or if it was just, as the old people say, “focktalk.”
I also need to reconcile this quandary: If men love wet pussy so much, what is this obsession with women wanting to be tight and dry down there? How did dryness come to be equated with uber-tightness anyway? It is possible to be both tight and wet, right? Or does all tightness get lost after a certain stage of wetness?
Possessors-of-pussies, what is your pussy juice usually like? At what degree of wetness do you enjoy sex the most? Have you ever been told (or wondered on your own if) you were too tight or too loose, too wet or too dry?
Enjoyers-of-pussies, what is the sexiest pussy you have ever encountered? How do you like your p.j? What has your favourite experience been?