Elly Gets Waxed

I've known women who shaved their pussies. Friends have told me how sexy it is, how exotic/exciting/erotic, but all I could think about was the ingrown hairs and stubble. And what if I cut myself? No. Never interested.

Then, some months ago—before my sexual re-education began—I read an article; in Cosmo, probably; all about Brazilian bikini waxing. Total. Complete. You could leave a little patch of hair, if you wanted to, but most of the women getting it were having every last follicle cleared out.

My interest was piqued, but that was when I was only thinking about leaving my sexless marriage. What was the point? Who'd see me like that or appreciate it?

Then we met, and on our first date had incredible sex in the hot tub, on the bed, finger-fucking in your car on the way to the restaurant. Second date; shopping at the sex-toy store in San Francisco, me feeling like a little kid in FAO Schwarz. You buying me all sorts of little goodies, including my new battery-powered friend we named Marvin, after the Martian, because of the clit-tickler that looks like an alien attached to a long blue squirming, throbbing penis.

Our third date was the sex club, after a day of pussy-teasing, and the next morning your fingers inside me again, my mouth around your cock, my sexual drive revving to redline.

At the club, that petite woman whose pussy tasted so sweet was shaved; easier access, yes, but the stubble was distracting.

I'd had a regular bikini wax a couple weeks ago and discussed the Brazilian with the waxer. "Everybody's getting them," she said. So today I'm going back, going to find out what sex is like with a clean, naked pussy.

All day long I think about my appointment that evening. I'm so aroused I masturbate three times, taking quick trips to the ladies' room between meetings to plunge my fingers into my cunt, reach in for my g-spot and rub. I'm constantly wet.

As I'm sitting in a chair, waiting for it, my labia are twitching. Pussy anticipating. She comes to get me and I'm a little nervous—like I was at first at the sex club last weekend—and make a few feeble jokes.

She takes me back to the waxing room and tells me to take off all my clothes below the waist, and put on a little disposable panty that must just be for modesty; once she gets started it's just in the way.

I lay down on the table and pull off my thigh-high stockings, and she comes in. The wax is warm, but not hot; she spreads it on my mound of Venus first, with what looks like a popsicle stick. Or a tongue depressor. She is looking at me, and talking, as she lays the cloth on the wax and she moves so fast all I feel is a short sting.

I can't help thinking, as she separates my labia and gets at all those hidden hairs, of last weekend; of the sizzle of excitement I get, now, at the thought of another woman probing my pussy, putting her lips on my clit…this woman isn't going there, she's all business, but it's an odd intimacy to have her now rolling me on my side, telling me to move my legs so that my ass cheeks are well apart as she gets those hairs too.

When she's done I look down. So odd; all clean, except for a single hair she missed right next to my clit. I'll trim that myself later. But just skin, where there was hair. My clit and inner lips poke out; the mound is bright pink from the waxing.

Thinking they'd just irritate the tender tissue, I stuff my thong and stockings into my purse. Button up my button-front skirt—not quite all the way—and walk out, after carefully rubbing in the cream she offered.

And out on the street it's breezy. A little zephyr floats up between my legs as I walk; I can feel it licking at my bare cunt, feel the lips squeeze at the stimulation. I imagine my skirt flashing open just as that man across the street looks at me; would he get a hard-on if he saw my naked pussy?

When I get home my curiosity demands that I take a good look in the mirror. There's a good-looking slender 40-ish woman with nice breasts, appropriate curves, and a bare naked mound, bare lips and clit. I touch myself; my pleasure button is erect and the stimulation is incredible. I'm instantly wet.

My mind—and now my hands—go to Marvin, hidden under the bed, rolled up in a towel. (We're getting divorced, but the husband still lives here for the next couple of weeks. I don't share this with him.)

Marvin is an I-Rabbit, one of the state-of-the-art toys; he writhes, twists, and has a section of pearls that circulate inside, add to the sensation. And his little martian head has two tentacles that tickle my clit.

I lay back on the bed, still fingering my clean-fleshed pussy. So wet; I'm dripping with my own come. I set Marvin to twitch and squirm and make his martian head flick me fast, and slide that sucker right into my cunt, fuck myself with blue rubber, shove my pussy down onto the vibrating, writhing tool you gave me. I'm imagining you watching, and in seconds I come violently—moaning, gasping…turn up the speed, and come wildly again, wishing you were here to fuck me real.

Then I think of the practice you've asked me to do; we're working up to anal sex, slowly, and I've loved what we've done so far. Marvin's up for it; I'm so wet and hot I want more stimulation; I reach for the lube down on the floor and rub some into my ass, around my anus, finger myself and cry out with pleasure.

Now the vibrating toy. Slowly; slowly, because this is still new. I feel it go in and the orgasm is sudden, intense. All I need is your hand, your cock, inside my pussy and this would be perfect—but it's so good as it is that I hear myself gasp, moan, feel the spasm of my cunt muscles and come again, hard.

I lay there, naked and bare-pussied, on the duvet. Panting. Trembling. Gradually easing Marvin out of me, waiting to calm down.

Stand up, finally, and look at myself in the mirror again…go into the bathroom and enthusiastically rub in more of the cream, in between the lips, into my ass.

I can't wait for you to see what I look like now.