A Love Letter to My Pussy

I sit alone in my room, my hand wanders between my thighs and finds the slit I call my pussy. I love to feel myself, touch myself, pleasure myself, masturbate, and look at myself in the mirror.
My pussy is like a flower on a spring morning. As I gaze with wonder at those pink lips a small dew drop escapes and the lips part like a flower bud opening in the warmth of the sun.
My pussy is a thing of infinite beauty. It is the very centre of my being, the centre of my sexual pleasure. Again, as I look between my thighs, I see the gentle swelling of the labia which signals my arousal, my clit is peeping from its hood, my pussy is aroused.
Freshly shaven, it is exposed in all its beauty. For a pussy is a thing of beauty, sometimes framed by dark crinkly hair, sometimes pierced, sometimes little more than a slit, but whatever its appearance it is still as individual as a person's face.
My pussy has two lovers, my fingers and my Jenny. Both give me so much pleasure, Jenny worships my pussy, she so loves to tease it with her tongue, to part the lips and taste the nectar that hides within. At times like this my pussy takes on an almost angry look, fully aroused the lips are almost purple and parted as if to say 'come inside and sample the warm wetness that lies within. Jenny needs no invitation to enter my pussy with her fingers or her tongue. It is hers whenever she wants it.
There are times when my pussy tells me it is aroused and my Jenny is not there. My fingers explore the warm depths, my tongue tastes my juices, my clit gives me the release I crave. Afterwards when the contractions die the bud closes as a flower when the sun goes down.
Yes I love my pussy.