On my way home that night I stopped at a lingerie store and bought a couple thongs and a g-string that felt soft on the inside. I was a couple months into a job answering phones for the cable company, so I could afford it. The only thing about that job that was any good was the money. The company and the way we had to treat the customers was absolutely horrible, and on my time off I always needed to blow off steam. Anyway, I waited until my two roommates were asleep, slipped into the bathroom with scissors, an old sideburn trimmer and my razor.
I dropped my safe, cotton, white floral print panties and looked at that bush in the mirror. The hair on my head was so nice and red, curly, and I always pictured my bush to be just as vibrant. Looking at it in the stark bathroom light told a different story. It was dark brown with bits of red here and there.
The hair on my head got the best conditioner I could afford, saw hours of sun a week while I was walking to and from work or hiking around on the weekend. The light brought out it's best natural colour. My bush, needless to say, hadn't seen the sun once, not even for a minute. "Buh-bye," I whispered to it, snipping the scissors in the air.
Twenty minutes later, I was as bald as I'd seen on Rita that morning. I remember stroking the sensitive skin very carefully, loving the tenderness, the fresh pinkness of it. A hand mirror became an important tool as I looked at my pussy from new angles. I had even pinker, shy little lips that hiding up in my outer labia. I squealed with excitement at the sight of it - almost as pretty as Rita's floral puss - but I was pretty tender.
I spotted some hand lotion on the back of the toilet and pumped some into my palm. It cooled my skin and I sighed at the relief. My fingers found moisture in that freshly bared slit and I began to search for sensitive spots just inside, running my middle finger up and down my inner lips. "Oh, Pete," I sighed as my mind wandered to the memory of him and Rita that morning.
A firm knock on the door made me jump so hard that I'm surprised I didn't end up standing on the toilet seat. "C'mon! C'mon! I've gotta take a dump!" Timothy, my roommate, shouted through the door.
"Just a second!" I shouted back. I gathered the bag filled with clippings, and pulled the sink's plug, praying for the water to drain faster, taking my fine hair and shaving cream with it.
"Oh, c'mon, I'm turtleing here, hurry up!"
I pulled my nightshirt on and watched as a hairy ring formed around the inside of the sink. I ran the water as hard as the old pipes would allow and pushed the evidence into the drain, trying to get the hair and shaving cream down. Most of it was gone, but the drain was definitely a little slower. It would have to do. I opened the door.
"I was about to shit right in the hall," he said, pushing me aside. The door nearly hit me on the rear, and as I left I spotted my old cotton panties on the floor. I was just starting to consider saying something, trying to figure out what to say, when I heard a fart and a series of plops through the door. "Oh, God, fucking chilli!"
"G'night!" I shouted through the door as I turned away. "He can have them," I whispered to myself, imagining him making off with a pair of my used panties, unsure of what he'd actually do with them.
By the time I got back to my room and shoved the baggie containing most of my bush down into the bottom of my garbage so no one would see it, the panties were practically forgotten. My nightshirt, really an extra large Metallica tee, was up and off fast, and I got under the covers. The sheet felt cool and smooth, but the gentle tracing of my fingers that followed was a lot nicer.
My legs were open, making a tent out of the sheets as my short-nailed fingers explored, tickling and teasing. My eyes were closed, I started dreaming that those fingers weren't mine, but those of a lover who was fascinated with my freshly bald pussy. He stared at it the way Pete looked at Rita's, he would look up, watch my reactions, smile at me as I started to get excited. A little kiss, pecking my tender flesh in a place that was sensitive, but not where I wanted him to kiss - not yet.
Then his fingers would start getting more aggressive, caressing my inner lips, spreading my juices a little as he planted kisses around my outer lips, sending tingles through me as my vulnerable tenderness welcomed him. I was practically dripping by the time I slipped two fingers inside myself, stroking slowly, exploring. I'd never done that before, explored, felt the soft, hot walls. I still didn't know what I was doing, but, my goodness, was I turned on by the very act of feeling free enough to enjoy the education I was giving myself. A little pop, just the tiniest of pre-orgasms hit me then and I felt the walls of my passage flex ever so briefly. My bottom surged up from the mattress, and I realized that I'd made a surprised whine.
Roommates are a pain in the ass. Thin walls are worse, and I had both back then. That October night, they became a blessing. I bit my lip to stop myself from crying out as my other hand joined the first, which was occupied with its slow fingering. It was then that I realized that I was biting my lip, and suddenly I was Rita.
I imagined that Pete was watching my every expression from between my legs. His fingers doing... something inside me. I remembered then, his palm was facing up, whatever he was doing started there, so I pushed my middle fingers all the way in - not very far, I don't have large hands, they're quite petite - and planted the fingertips against the soft wall. That was the first time I touched my g-spot, and I bit my lip hard enough to leave a mark for a day as I caressed the hard oval area, feeling a new building pleasure and then I pushed on it. That was it! I moaned as I pushed on it several more times and then stroked it hard. This was a whole new kind of amazing experience. Shaving myself had nothing to do with it except for the fact that it made me feel more adventurous, more excited about exploring my own body, and as my hips twitched, I was so happy I'd seen Rita and Pete. My other hand got ready to do something I'd done for some time until then, hovering over my clitoral hood.
I imagined Pete looking at me, smiling. I was desperate to get that big orgasm, the one that would send me so high that I didn't care who heard me screaming. One pair of fingers pushed and retreated against my g-spot over and over again, and I felt like I was about to melt from the inside before I nodded and said; "Make me come, love, finish me off." I wasn't demanding like Rita. I knew he wanted to send me straight to heaven. He'd watch, he'd love it. I was his beautiful lover, and watching me climax was his drug.
I rubbed my clit then, it was so easy and clean without strands of hair to catch or pull. My gasps were loud in my ears as I squirmed in bed and suppressed as much sound as I could. Then my climax hit. It had never been so hot. The world stopped, I was trapped in a universe of powerful physical joy. The walls of my most intimate space spasmed and twitched. I'd never felt an orgasm while my fingers were in there, and I kept them inside. The inside of my pussy balooned, the walls hardening, then collapsed, gripping my fingers over and over, it was amazing. I wanted to feel it all, to know it all, and to be trapped in rapture - my back arched, my bare pussy pushed high off the mattress, both my hands between my thighs.
As with all things that are too good to last, it passed, and I was so relaxed moments later, as I worked to catch my breath, that a fire wouldn't have gotten me out of bed. That's when the trouble really began, and it was trouble I'd get into again if I could go back in time. I started thinking about the wrong things.
Pete and Rita. Every time I saw her leave, it was with a kiss. He made her laugh more times than I could count. They spoke quietly when she was keeping him company at the counter, as though everything they talked about was just for each other. The word was that they had been together for five years, but Rita barely spoke to people, mostly him. She was always kind to me, and anyone else who said hello, but she was quiet overall.
I'd heard stories about them too. When they'd show up at parties, they only needed one seat. Rita was always in his lap, and sometimes they'd start making out right there. Over the next year, I'd watch them, and to my surprise, it was usually Rita who would make the more randy advances in public, like tugging on his belt buckle before she left, or making sure that his hand was riding low on her hip by putting it there. I wanted that more than I wanted someone to go down on me. Even so, many of my midnight fantasies included or starred Pete, and he was all fingers, lips, and very intimate kisses.
My bald pussy was sore and itchy for two days after that, but I soldiered on, loving that I was wearing thongs and g-strings under my skirts and jeans. I felt sexy, like I was sitting on a red hot secret. When I slept over at Jamies a couple weeks later and she saw my bare bum, she laughed and pinched it. I yelped and spun towards her. "When did you start wearing bum-floss?" She asked.
I pulled my nightshirt up and showed her my little red satin undies. "The day after I saw Pete and Rita." I slowly started to pull the front of my g-string down with my thumb, and her eyes went wide. I stopped short of revealing it all and grinned at her. "Smooooooth," I cooed.
Her eyes went wide. "Wow, it suits you. Maybe I'll try it."
"You should, but give it time, and don't, um, touch it the first night. That can be a mistake."
