I wreck pussy, not lives

I was at a munch recently (well, relatively recently) where a lovely woman was wearing a shirt (with no bra, with pierced nipples) that said something to the effect of “I wreck pussy, not lives.” That’s all well and good, but who wants to wreck pussy? Why would someone want to destroy something so beautiful? Eat it, fuck it, finger it, fist it, beat it, pinch it, pierce it (not my jam, but some other people like it), pleasure it, but don’t wreck it.

Yes, yes, I get the point the shirt is making. And yes, I’m sure that, in my time, I have wrecked a pussy or several. (Not all at once.) Hell, last night* about half an hour after sex my partner cuddled up behind me and said “my pussy is still throbbing, and it’s very distracting,” which was extremely gratifying. Maybe she would say I wrecked her pussy.

* The night before I wrote this, which was several days ago.

But I like to think that, in my way, I worshipped it. Not in the kinky way, but everything I did was in service of giving my partner pleasure. Sure, I used my mouth and my cock and my fingers, but I don’t consider her being wrecked.

I prefer the term “plumb fuckered out”, myself.

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