A short vignette… one of the experiences I’ve had that sticks with me, replays in my imagination, and is like the first chapter in a choose-your-own adventure.
To begin, i object to the “hair wars-” that is, the irrelevant debate (particularly among men) about bushy vs trimmed vs bare. Because *like so many other things,* how a woman chooses to keep herself groomed is her choice, and nobody else’s opinion is relevant. Sure, some dudes might express a preference one way or another, but they’re just limiting themselves.
Then there are women like Jenny. She’s an articulate, successful, self-made business woman whom I dated some time ago. And she had a delightful little secret.
Jenny is gorgeous in the completely anti-magazine way… shortish, curly brown hair, a prominent aqualine nose, eyes that shined mischief and a quick, easy laugh. She was fit and strong with gorgeous olive skin, but had a cute, poochy little belly that always hung a little bit above her panties or bikini, and smallish breasts, but with a district little sag and a hint of banana shape. Her legs were gorgeously built from cycling, hiking, and climbing.
We met in September, the dying days of summer, and found immediate chemistry, our first date ending in a steamy outdoor make-out fest that left us both desperate, the second a day later that moved quickly to clothes tumbling to the floor, as I discovered her beautiful, distinctive body and hidden tattoos inch by inch, until pulling her delicate panties down over her lovely legs… and found her smooth, bare labia, protruding and swollen, decorated only with a small, close-trimmed tuft just above. It had been some time since I’d encountered a woman with completely bare labia, and I’d never seen such an “outie,” and I dove in with relish. God she was a wet girl, and we loved fucking. We fit together perfectly. Fast -forward, I was a moron, didn’t like the distance between us, things ended before fall ended.
But the sex… like a siren call it beckoned. Jenny called me in the late winter, and suggested maybe we’d work as FWBs. I was flattered, surprised, and totally down for that. We got together, had as much fun as ever, and ended up at her apartment, with her pinned against a wall almost as soon as we entered. Clothes ripped off, her cute, fit-and-a-little-soft body as beautiful as remembered… and then- a big, full, belly-to-thigh muff under her panties. “My winter bush,” she smiled coyly, and again I dove in, fingers and tongue exploring their way through this unexpected jungle.
We lasted as FWBs for a while, and I learned her changing seasons… as spring blossomed to summer, she shaved herself again, not for vanity or swimsuits, but she liked the ritual and the variety. And I loved it, and still love knowing her secret- and relish those memories of my sometimes bare, sometimes hairy lover.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ujrj7q/the_memories_we_keep_3_to_be_hair_or_bare