Hella Pussy on Pussy
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Men don’t know what they are missing when I take a urine application stick from the drawer, fill it out and sit on the toilet and bleed. I wasn’t hired for a baby - too old, they said, ushered me far away to the place little old barren bitches go to get a chihuahua or terrier dog for company. To kill off their vagina. Dogs sniff my crotch like they know something - they know I’m still fertile, I don’t belong in the air-conditioning of Dog Valley; I want to go to the sweaty birthing farm and have a little head pop out of me, slippery, mid-orgasmic and writhing. Surrounded by ten-twenty pregnant, lactating, horny, menstruating women with their fingers all rubbing my perineum. The only change we need, women, is to make the Dog Valley Condominiums full of olive oil orgies, menopause parties, and hella pussy on pussy. Men don’t know what they are missing –
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