“Vulva,” I said. “Vulva,” she replied almost reverently as I bent to kiss her there. The morning sun streamed across the girl’s bare legs lying on the kitchen table.
“Labia”, I murmured, and Labia she whispered, gurgling at my touch and letting one leg slide off the table’s edge. Outside, a thrush or maybe a blackbird sang out.
“Vagina,” This time, no reply as she rose to kiss me while grasping my fingers and guiding me in. Then, laying back again, the girl put her hand firmly between my legs, cupping me.
“Szeméremajak!” She said and laughed and laughed.
