In my experience, there a handful of particular partners who left an indelible imprint on my memory that I return to time and again in fantasy. Sometimes it’s a singular encounter that is forever arousing to recall, but in imagination it can be be relived, revised, improvised or continued. And sometimes it leads to appreciation of certain things that persists. This happened a little more than 10 years ago. As with my previous vignette, for me the climax of this memory isn’t the climax…
I don’t have a particular “type,” physically, at least. I gravitate towards smart, kinda nerdy, and active. People who are fun to be with. Sarah fit that bill. We had known each other a while, but only hung out for a short bit, and only hooked up once. But that once was unforgettable, and sometimes I kick myself that there weren’t follow-up encounters… but then I also recall the personality interactions. But the latter memories do not diminish the former.
Sarah was a little taller than I, maybe 5’10”, lively and sweet, with big crystal blue eyes and straight blonde hair that fell past her shoulders. She kinda had that bluegrass style, particular to flowered or plaid buttoned shirts and swooshy skirts or jeans. She was built like a woman who’d grown up on a farm, neither thick nor thin, but with eye-catching thighs and calves built from bicycling everywhere she went.
The evening we hooked up we ended back at her house, cuddled on the couch. Something was probably on TV, but our attention wasn’t there. Our closeness led to the usual- kissing and fondling, and she had a snappy cowgirl shirt that popped open delightfully. We shared ice cream, and I “accidentally” dripped a spoonful onto her chest, gallantry stopping it with my tongue before it all melted. That progressed, and soon we took turns drizzling ice cream across one another’s bare chests.
Her breasts were full, round, and soft, sinking against her and spilling to the side. Ghostly pale, tipped with small, pale pink nipples, each with a few fair blonde hairs curled about. As our ice cream game and mouths moved down our bodies, she stopped me and led me upstairs to her bedroom, where we dove in, no longer to be denied.
She straddled herself across me and kissed hard, full mouth and deep tongue, unrelenting and ravenous, her shirt still on but open, her soft breasts hanging against my chest, her muscular legs squeezed on me.
To catch my breath I had to flip on top, and from this vantage could see her eyes- blue flashes of unrestrained desire.
My mouth moved down her body- her long neck, her breasts, her smooth, tone belly. I slipped her skirt over her full hips and cyclist thighs, down her legs, covered in downy blonde hair. Looking at this beautiful woman, splayed in her open shirt and full cotton panties, I hooked my thumbs to pull them down. Our eyes met as I did. “I’m a very hairy girl,” she purred at me.
And so she was. Her blonde bush spilled free, full, soft fine hair from her lower belly, down between her legs, across to her inner thighs. She was matted wet, big full lips swollen and desperate for attention. I licked my lips and slid two fingers to part her hedges. She moaned and put her arms above her head, revealing the long, fine fur in her armpits. I dove in to this “very hairy girl,” as she put it, her scent and wetness covering my chin…
We fucked- all deliciously wet and messy. And while the sex was great, the connection didn’t click, and it was the only time… but that moment- that instant she said, “I’m a very hairy girl,” in her bedroom voice as I revealed her to me for the first time- still gets me, more than 10 years later.
And while I have no preference for how a woman chooses to groom her body hair- it’s her personal choice, and if I’m into the person I’m into her- that memory of Sarah & all her beautiful hairy bits definitely is responsible for me having some delightfully related subreddits in my rotation.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/te1e9l/the_memories_we_replay_ii_mf_30s_hairy