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Here’s What I Remember About My Mom’s Pussy From When I Was Born

Here’s What I Remember About My Mom’s Pussy From When I Was Born

By: Darryl Raspberry

It was a cold December night, but inside the sterile delivery room it couldn’t have been more than 65 degrees Fahrenheit, which is still pretty damn cold compared to 98.6 degrees inside the womb. I remember feeling trapped, like something was holding me back from reaching my true potential. That’s when it happened. I made my way through the birth canal and caught a glimpse of what would be the first pussy I would ever lay eyes on. 

There’s just something about your first experience with anything as wondrous as pussy that has you chasing that first high you ever get. It’s like the first slip n slide you go down on a hot summer day. It’s the first taste of heroin coursing through your bloodstream. It’s that feeling you get when you get to the bus stop or the train station right as it arrives. Of course, in this case it is your mother’s pussy and this is the last time you’ll ever touch it before it is forbidden.

I distinctly remember my mother’s labial folds being somewhat lubricated and very soft as they brushed past my ears. Much like my father during the conception of me, I kind of glossed right over the clit, so I cannot speak to its size or how far it protruded. Unfortunate as that is, I do remember there being a lot of bush to crawl through, as that was the pubic hair style of the time you see. A thick forest of wiry hairs so course it could cut a newborn straight to the bone. Luckily, I persevered.

Once I was out of the woods, I recall a doctor smacking my ass good and hard. This would become another feeling of ecstasy that I would perpetually chase through my lifetime, leading me to dominatrix dungeons in every major city in the world. But that’s a story for another time. It was soon after the ass slapping that I took my first breath, opened my eyes, and wouldn’t you know it, I was upside down and face to face with the orifice I had just been expelled from. Let me be the first to tell you, it looked a little worse for wear after my big head tore through it. 

While I’m sure you didn’t click this article to read about the wreckage that my dear mother’s pussy became after my birth, I am duty-bound as a pseudo-journalist to describe it in detail. It was still pretty dilated and there was a lot of afterbirth and blood and placenta gunk. It looked like the rabbit hole from Alice in Wonderland if it was directed by David Cronenberg. One would think this memory would turn me off to the idea of pussy forever, however it only exacerbated my insatiable thirst for the hole of womankind. 

Word Brothel

Word Brothel