She said, “I have no problem with ‘Cunt.’”
This was after an hour of cunnilingus (about halfway through our time in bed, as it would turn out), and I had thus far had been using “pussy,” as in, “May I kiss your pussy,” and “May I eat your pussy again,” and “Can I taste your pussy one more time.”
She had said when I had come up for air and to wipe the glory of herself off my face, “I am afraid my pussy is wearing you out,” and “My pussy can go for ever.” Suddenly, “pussy” seemed inadequate to this glorious, beautiful, and, above all, powerful place.
I didn’t want to say, “Vagina,” but what? “Cunt?” I queried.
“I have no problem with ‘Cunt,’” she said.