I shaved my pussy bare for him.

He played my body like an aged rock star, the strings of my body a part of his own, my notes his own voice and my reverberations deep in his bones.

I lay on my back and my lashes fluttered, the ceiling fan silently whirred.  I briefly thought, “I need to dust,” and then was jerked back by his soft tongue lapping at my pussy.  My newly shaved bare pussy.

I have resisted the trend to make myself look prepubescent for years.  I’ve ranted and raved about it, been stubbornly against it, but The Neighbor’s birthday was a couple of weeks ago and I wanted to do something special for him.  Something he’d never ask for and something I knew he quietly wanted.

“I’ve never been with anyone who’s entirely shaved,” he mentioned to me once.  “I know you think it’s nasty, but I think it’s kinda hot.  Forbidden.”  I’d listened patiently, snug in his nook, and played with his chest hair.

Lina was all shaved,” I said quietly.

“Ugh.  Don’t remind me!”

And that was the moment I made my decision.  I wanted to erase her from his memory banks and replace her with visions of my creamy, smooth cunt, shaved just for him.

I was surprised to realize that the decision felt good.  There was no pressure to conform or to “look like that.”  This was a gift for the man I love.

The night before his birthday I stood under scorching hot water and let the heat soak into my bones.  I filled my hand with cream and spread it on my little patch of hair.  My 5-blade razor made quick work on the top and I pulled and stretched the folds of my vulva to get all the little hairs hiding in the crevices.

Then, despite Dumb Dommes’ misgivings about shaving your own asshole, I bent forward, spread my cheeks, slathered on shaving cream, and carefully lay the razor in my crack and dragged outward until the blades came out hair-free.  I was smooth as a petal now.

As I toweled off I peeked at my handiwork and quickly covered back up.  It looked foreign, weird, exceptionally naughty.  I blushed and got dressed for bed, excited to see him later.  It was a good night, that first reveal.

But now his birthday had long since passed as I lay with my legs splayed as his wicked tongue stroked me.  The bristles of his beard — which he was growing just for me — were soft and scruffy on my inner thighs and plump vulva.  I was in motherfucking heaven.

He sneaked his right hand under my bottom and slipped a curved finger inside of me and my face sparkled with pleasure, my teeth chattered.  I gasped and bucked and writhed, his face clung to my center like a cowboy wearing the biggest belt buckle around.

“I need a break!” I whispered suddenly.  “Oh my God, I need a break!”  I was overloaded, on the brink of total torture, not release.  “Please, holy shit, you’re so good at that, I need a break,” I panted again as he stopped and slowly slipped his finger out.

His face was plastered with a grin and a sheen.

I closed my eyes and prepared to get a grip when I felt his finger slide back into me, only this time it was multiple fingers.  “No,” I squeaked weakly, “I can’t handle it!”  I felt both his hands on my knees spread me apart.  I opened my eyes and saw him standing between my legs, looking down at me like a hungry cat, his cock buried in my pussy to the hilt.  His dark pubic hair looked stark against my bare mound.

I imagined what he saw then: my bare body, white, with no interruptions, large breasts slightly flattened that jiggled with my giggles as I realized he’d done a switch on me.

“I thought that was your finger!” I laughed.

“I’m insulted!” he said as he thrust into me and smiled broadly.

“Multiple fingers!” I corrected myself.

He gripped my knees from underneath and hauled me closer to him.  My bottom hung off the edge of the bed.  He pushed deeply into me and the tingling from my face, which his talented mouth had begun, ebbed and traveled down to my center.  I moaned and floated away on more blooming orgasms  — pink and bright, soft, long, and cloudy — as he increased the tempo.  I let go and bounced along like a leaf on a rapid.

I wrapped my legs around his hips and locked my ankles pulling him closer.  He rammed into me and his giant cock slid up through my belly to my goddamned throat.

My hands twisted in the sheets and arched my back against him when he suddenly stopped and quietly stared at me.  I was confused.

He stooped to pick something up and held up my Hitachi triumphantly.

I shook my head No.  He nodded Yes then added, “You are going to cum with me inside of you.”

He flicked the wand on and handed it to me.  Defeated I draped my crotch with a sheet for a small buffer and pressed the head against me.  I jumped and began the climb and he started to move.

I lost myself then.  I couldn’t tell where he ended and the vibrator began.  He was my everything then.  My pleasure, my pain, my torture, my release.  He thrust again and again and I burst at the seams, light split me apart, my cells detached and I screamed and rolled my eyes like a wild mare as I was obliterated in darkness and light; his cock my anchor to Earth and to love and to life.  I was split apart like Neo with the Matrix and I began to sob uncontrollably as it went on and on and on.

Finally, I fell back into my shell.  It had released me.

He scooped me up and held me as tears spilled from my eyes.  I felt so, so small.  Eternally small.

I cried because I only ever felt this way with this man and it was always slipping away.  I cried because I didn’t deserve the pleasure.  I cried because I did.

He kissed and crooned to me and I buried my face in his chest and inhaled his sweet, clean scent.  I rolled to my back and he stroked my naked mound.  His fingers felt warm, honest.  My silly shaved pussy was worth every blush and every moment of post-feminist guilt I’d been experiencing.   A passport to 45 minutes of losing my mind will always be worth it.

He told me he would be leaving soon and I squeezed him tightly.  Happy to have made him so happy.  He loved it and I loved that he loved it.

And I felt motherfucking lucky.

It’s not every day I have someone for whom to shave my pussy bare.  He’s one lucky motherfucker.

I went spelunking and found nothing.

I’m going to wear this dress all week long.

I have a new policy: I will not fuck anyone whose cock I do not want.

That may sound obvious to some of you, but in the past I fucked in order to discover whether or not I liked the penis.  I would bring a man into my room, peel off his pants with my breath held and hope for the best.  I don’t know why it never occurred to me before that I could just put my hand down his pants and leave it at that.  Well, consider me enlightened.

Monday I met Alex at a local bar with the flush of an orgasm on my cheeks.  It’s how I like to pump myself up for dates.  It’s better than a close shave, perfume, or perfectly coiffed hair.  Sometimes I even dip my fingers into my tender pussy and dab a little of my scent behind my ears.  I know it’s there and like Dumbo with his feather I am now invincibly sexy.  Alex got the benefit of this little trick.

I sauntered in wearing my yellow and white dress, breasts crushed pleasantly against the cotton, and spotted him eating french fries at the bar.  We hugged and so began a long evening of banter and flirting.  I literally have no interest in him as a person other than I find him reasonably bearable; when he talks I don’t mind listening.

He kissed me boldly once or twice and we laughed and teased each other.  I hiked up my skirt to show him my firm, shapely thigh (“You like?” I’d asked)  and I scolded him for wearing jeans with a hole in the crotch.  As the night wore on and the drinks filled my belly I leaned over and kissed him, my hand cupping his warm bulge.  I couldn’t feel anything.  I shook it off and decided it didn’t mean anything.

Outside smoking he did his damnedest to get me to share, but he’d just quit and I refused.  He tugged my hair back and loomed over me and crushed my mouth with his inhaling the tobacco lingering on my breath.  Drunker and more turned on I slipped my hand down his pants and righted his south-facing cock.  He moaned a little and my exploring hand hoped that there was more to come.  He felt only average.

Eventually, hunger distracted me from everything else.  I asked him what I should order.  He said, “Whatever you want to pay for.”  We’d been playfully arguing about the economics of dating all night and I wasn’t impressed with his attitude.  “Women are CEOs now!  Women’s rights!”  he proclaimed as a defense.

“There are, like, 6 fucking female CEOs and I still make $0.75 to your $1, don’t give me that bullshit.  And I wore a low-cut dress,” I added to cut the tension. But the mood was gone and he had a small dick and I didn’t care anymore.  It was time to go home.

He led me out of the building, but instead of heading to my car we walked to a darkened residential street behind a movie theater.  We stopped between two parked cars, a white hybrid hatchback pressed against my back as he kissed me passionately.  The cicadas chirped and buzzed overhead as we were bathed in yellow from a street light.

He pulled my straps down and my breasts spilled out.  He sucked on my nipples and I moaned, he sucked harder and I clasped him to me.  I unbuckled his pants determined to get the best out of him, but he was half mast at best.  To his credit he made no excuses, he only fell to his knees, lifted my dress and looked at me with a question on his face, his hot breath on my sex.

I nodded.

He pulled my white eyelet panties down and lapped at my pussy.  I pushed my hips into his face and moaned again.  This wasn’t so bad after all, cheap skate or not.  His fingers delved into me and I pulsed around his mouth, constricted my channel and pushed out again.  I squirted into his mouth and shuddered a little.

He took a ragged breath and stood up and put his fingers in my mouth.  I tasted tart and hungry.  I took his hand and returned it to my cunt, his mouth returned to my breasts and I grabbed his cock again as a woman casually walked by. I looked her in the eye with glazed desire.  She passed 3 feet away and never made a sound.

I pulled him up to kiss me again and pushed him away.  I thought of the condoms in my purse, but remembered my new policy.  His cock, simply and cruelly put, was not up to snuff.

He held me for a minute and then reached around behind me and cupped my sex and massaged my clitoris.  Involuntarily I gushed through my panties and ejaculate ran down my legs to my ankles.  He was speechless as I stood shivering with my legs wide apart seeking balance.

“Ok, let’s go,” I said.  He took my hand as I wobbled next to him slightly cum dumb.  We kissed at my car and I said goodbye knowing it would likely be our last meeting.  He said he’d be at my beck and call, but he’s not what I want.

I drove home smiling and went on my balcony to smoke.  Downstairs Neighbor was on his balcony smoking, too and I invited him up.  We drank all night long laughing at our ridiculous stories (he’d just lost his buttsex virginity – he topped) and I felt free and open.  The Neighbor came out on his balcony to say Hi.  I drunkenly invited him over, but he sagely declined.  I wondered why he keeps coming out to see me.  I wish he’d just stop and leave me alone.  He’s the only one I want and thinking of him with 4 am girl makes me want to scream.

I was supposed to see Kevin yesterday for a good hard fuck, but he couldn’t get away, and I was dubious about getting what I needed anyway.  I had another date lined up for last night, as well, but his work schedule also got in the way.  I’m hopefully meeting a new man tonight for a quick drink while I’m out with friends and still plan on seeing Josh on Friday.

The truth is, I am hurting, confused, lost, lonely, and above all else exhausted.  If TN wasn’t TN then I wouldn’t know when he was out all night or gone for the evening or when he had 4 am girl over and I would likely not be in this predicament.  When I think back on other breakups I could just hole up at home and nurse my heart uninhibitedly.  But I feel like I have an audience, like I’m in a goddamned fishbowl.

I imagine this is so much easier on him because he has someone else to think about, lust after, fuck, kiss, talk to, spend time with, whereas me, I’m just me.  All alone and desperately wishing otherwise.

I can’t wait to be in the next phase of this.  This fucking sucks.