I remember when I first started to pay attention to my pussy hair. It was many years ago, when I first began seeing Evert. He was a few years older than me and liked everything to be ‘just so’. He had encouraged me to wax my bikini line and trim my pubic hair into a neat little triangle. Of course, I had been too shy to think about going to have it done professionally, back then, but Evert was already experienced in manicuring his own ‘bits’ and applied the strips of cloth to the wax and ripped mine out too. God, that had been sore as fuck. I remembered looking at him with tear-filled eyes and asking if he hated me! He had shaken his head and told me to go and take a look in the mirror. I had. In fact, it had looked so good that I had pretty much favoured that style from that moment on.
Evert had been the first man I’d known who trimmed his pubic hair. In those days, guys in Central Scotland would have found the idea laughable, but Evert had not been one to follow the herd or maybe it was his Dutch upbringing? He regularly shaved or waxed around his cock and balls. I’d been taken aback at first, it had looked so strange, so alien to me, but man, when it was down my throat, the bare skin was such a fucking turn on, plus it made what was an already good-sized member look huge . My pussy gave a slight pulse as I remembered the night when he had asked if he could shave my mound bare, how it would be a huge turn on for him. At first I had tried to change the subject, for some reason it was a daunting prospect, kind of creeped me out a bit. But one night I had arrived at his city-centre apartment and he’d already drawn me a deep bubble bath, with essential oils and candlelight, glasses and an ice bucket with a bottle of the finest, vintage champagne.
I had spent the whole day on my feet, working, and was rather glad of the chance to relax. I was so beat. He had lavished me with attention, sponging my back, kissing my neck, god I was such a sucker for a mouth on my neck. He had soaped my breasts, pulling and tugging at my nipples with slippery fingers and by the time he got to my pussy, I was so turned on that I never noticed that he’d let some of the water out of the bath. What remained in the tub lapped around my body and I glanced down to see that my breasts and pussy were completely exposed, much to my surprise.
The room was very warm though and I didn’t feel cold at all.
Evert had looked at me, smiled and then took a firm shaving brush, wet it and then rubbed it around the small dish of solid soap and proceeded to dab it onto my wet mound, circling and massaging the foam into my soft curls. “I think it’s time to see what this pussy looks like after a little haircut,” he grinned.
I could only moan as the stiff bristles worked my lips, it felt so fucking hot.
I was completely taken aback, although not entirely shocked, I knew how much he liked the way that his own cock looked with no unruly curls around it. My first reaction of course, was to refuse, dammit, I wasn’t going to do it just because he told me to, but as he worked the foam over my pussy lips with the stubbly brush, and the eucalyptus scent permeated my labia a little, they began to tingle and I felt my clit rise, aching to be soaped and rubbed too. My lower body lifted under his ministrations as my back arched and I found myself incredibly turned on, no longer sleepy, but wide awake, with an intense urge to feel him inside me.
Without stopping the rubbing of thick foam into my curls, he reached down and lifted a yoga block from the floor. “Lift your ass,” he ordered, pushing the foam shape under my hips and giving him clearer access to my now-white, soap-coated mound.
With my lower body raised like that, my pussy was completely out of the water. It intensified every stroke and I could feel my own arousal mixing with the scented liquid which was oozing between my tingling lips, running down to my now exposed rosebud. I couldn’t stop myself from thrusting my hips up, meeting the harsh bristles of the shaving brush.
“You like that, huh?” he asked, slipping his fingers between my swollen lips and sliding them up and down, clit to asshole.
I gasped and my body jerked as did and he grinned at my reaction, then picked up the razor.
“Ready?” he pulled my lips apart, pulling it taut and pressed the sharp edge against the top of one. “You’ll have to keep still,” he cautioned, “I don’t want to mark that precious pussy.” And in one expert, swift stroke, he pulled the razor down.
It’s hard to explain how it felt, there was a sudden coolness where the razor had been, a strip of bare flesh, now exposed to the air, still tingling with the effect of the oil in the foam. He rubbed his finger along it, smiling, and then he pulled the blade over it again until he was satisfied it was smooth.
“Mmm, yes, I like this, it feels nice,” he cooed as he began to stroke the rest of my pussy with the razor, stopping only to shake the head under the water to remove the excess hair he’d cut.
I was writhing at the feeling of the increasing exposure and he placed a hand on my lower belly, holding me in place. “Keep still, Grace, I really don’t want to nick your skin. This is the tricky bit.”
He pulled my lips apart, “Oh my, you are a dirty little slut aren’t you? Look how wet you are!” His fingers slipped easily between my puffy lips and I let out a soft moan but tried to stop my body from lifting and rocking, as he’d told me, not wanting to get nicked by the blade.
Gingerly he ran the sharp edge just inside my lips, catching the smaller hairs there, being very, very careful with the soft, delicate skin. He went over each side a few times, rubbing a wet fingertip along until it was truly smooth. Then he pinched my clit firmly between finger and thumb and pulled it taut, dragging the razor close to the base, catching any other stray hairs which he might have missed. I could barely contain the squeal of delight as he pulled and tugged. He gently rubbed finger and thumb together and I swear I nearly came, I was so on edge.
Once he had finished, with no warning, he pushed two fat fingers inside me, setting down the razor and using the other hand to palm and caress my bare pussy.
This is it , I thought, now I can come , but it seemed that he had other plans. Teasingly, he pressed his fingertips against my g-spot and rubbed. I felt the surge of my climax, muscles clenched around his fingers and he looked at me, displeased and pulled his fingers from me, just as quickly as he’d put them in.
“No!” he barked, giving my aching pussy a sharp smack, no protection from pubic hair, now that I was bald and the electric feeling burst through my loins. He smacked my already tingling cunt once, twice, three times, in quick succession.
“We’re not finished yet,” he informed me, as he roughly pulled my knees apart, dragging me further down over the yoga block, “let me see that little untouched rosebud of yours.”
My cunt was wide, gaping, aching for his cock as he began to finger and press my tighter hole. He pulled my cheeks apart and began to apply more foam to my ass crack with the bristles. It felt so fucking good, I felt like a dirty little bitch, his dirty little bitch. He held my cheeks apart and used short, curving strokes to make sure that there was no hair around my asshole. Again, he smoothed his fingertips over every inch of my skin, running the blade over even the tiniest, obstinate follicle.
I was bare, completely bare. The touch of his fingers was intensified, everything was intensified, and I ached to be fucked.
I looked at him, my expression pleading, hoping that he would let me cum.
He seemed to glare at me for a moment, as if deciding whether or not I had earned my pleasure.