Picture two horny 18-year-old girls in bikinis, looking for guys, at the public swimming pool on a Friday night.
OK, let me guess: You’ve got in mind two skanky little hard-bellies with perfect tits, asses you could bounce quarters of off, and an Avril Lavigne pout. Correct?
I wish.
Jessica and I are the two geeky girls who can’t get laid. What do you think we’re doing at the pool on a Friday night? Hello! If we had lives, would be at the swimming pool with all the older people and the kids?
We could always try to sneak into one of the clubs, but neither one of us can hold our liquor, and besides, our parents would freak.
You see, we’re good girls. Good grades, good manners, good teeth. If we only had good looks…
Not that we’re ugly.
Hi. My name’s Crystal, by the way. That’s with the accent on the last syllable, like the champagne. How ironic. I’ve got this, like, bitching cool name. Something you expect a model to have. And I look nothing like.
My mom. She gave me the name. My dad liked Allison. I look more like an Allison.
My mom is this hot trophy wife. She’s like 42 years old, and guys still spray their shorts over her, including guys my age.
She married a doctor. You guessed it – a Jewish doctor. Guess who got his nose? The rest of me is pretty good. I’m short, kind of on the thin side. I think I have a pretty good body. And nice hair. It’s long and dark and naturally curly. Then, just to ruin the whole effect, there’s this big honking shnoze. And I have braces. A mouth full of metal and a beak like Barbara Streisand.
Jessica tells me I’m cute. Tells me I’m going to look like that slut on Sex in the City, soon as I get the braces off. Sarah Jessica Parker or whatever.
Jessica says she wishes she looked like me. She feels even uglier than I do. She’s not. I think she’s kind of attractive, in an old-fashioned Rubenesque way.
Now, by that I don’t mean she’s fat. She’s a big girl, true. But not fat.
She’s five foot nine and has huge tits. God, what I wouldn’t do for tits like that. She has this old-fashioned hour-glass shape that guys used to find attractive before fashion models started living on Evian, cigarettes and cocaine. She has nice wide hips – child bearing hips. The kind of body you want to just sink into. Like a couch.
Her face is also nice: nice nose, beautiful smoky grey eyes. But she has acne. She’s very self-conscious about her size and her acne. She’s never been laid.
I’ve only been laid twice. Given a few handjobs and a couple of blowjobs. But the only guys who want to fuck me lose interest the instant they cum. And the guys I’m interested in don’t want to fuck me. They’re too nice. Too nerdy. But I really like sex. I think about it all the time. I masturbate a lot.
“That guy’s looking at us,” Jessica says, nudging me. I am looking longingly at three young girls with perfect bodies. They’re like 16 and have these great bodies and belly button piercings. One even has this amazing tattoo on here lower back. My parents would kill me if I got a tattoo.
“Where?” I say.
“Don’t look,” Jessica says. But it’s too late. I look right in his eyes. We’re in the hottub, and he’s at the other end, looking right at us, with a greasy smile on his face.
“Jessica. He’s like fucking forty years old,” I whisper to her.
“Think so? I don’t know. He’s not bad looking for his age.’
“Oh my God, we have got to hook you up, girl.”
There are no guys here tonight our age. Just kids and old people.
The old guy gets out of the hottub, and we see how flabby he is. Nice enough face, but he has grey hair on his chest, and handles and faded tattoos. I wonder what that 15 year old girl’s tattoo will look like when she’s 55.
“Let’s go,” I say.
“Where we going to go?” Jessica asks.
“Let’s go to my house,” I say. “We’ll steal some booze and watch TV.”
In the shower, I see a woman in her mid-thirties with a shaved pussy. Well, not completely shaved. It’s trimmed down to just a tiny little strip. It makes me self-conscious about my own bush.
Let me tell you – it’s a rain forest down there. Major forest fire hazard. I look at Jessica, and admire her big soapy boobs. She has a lot of curves, that girl.
When we get back home, my mother is already in bed, and my dad is in his den watching TV. I sneak two beers from the fridge and we head downstairs to my room. I have the whole basement to myself, now that my sister has gone off to college. There are two bedrooms, a full bathroom, a pool table, and a widescreen TV.
We sit on the sofa and drink beer, and flip through the satellite channels. We have the Playboy channel, and I stop there a couple of times. The women all have these tiny patches of pubic hair.
“OK, are we like the only women on the planet that don’t shave our pubes?” I ask.
“You don’t shave?”
“You do?” I say, shocked.
“Just along the sides,” Jessica says. You know, for a bikini line.”
“No, I mean shaved. Like that woman at the pool. The one with the little heart-shaped beaver? Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”
“I noticed that she had a Caesarean section scar,” Jessica says. “It’s really noticeable when you shave it all off like that.”
“I think it looks kind of nice. And I know guys like it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. They like them totally bald.”
“Really? Why?”
“How would I know? Do I look like a guy?”
“Yeah. Yeah you do.”
Jessica cracks a smile.
“Fuck off,” I say, and kick her.
“Ow. That hurt.”
“Look at this,” I say. A Tall, lanky Playboy model is posing for the cameras. She has just a tiny strip of public hair.
“I kind of like that look.”
“Yeah…” Jessica says thoughtfully. “Not that we have boyfriends who would care or anything.”
“I have way too much hair down there,” I say.
“I wonder if it makes it more sensitive,” Jessica says. “For like oral sex and stuff.”
“I’ll bet it does,” I say.
There’s a long pause.
“Let’s do it,” I say.
“Do what?” Jessica giggles, knowing full well what I’m talking about.
“Let’s shave.”
“What, right now?”
“Yeah. We can help each other.”
“Why would we need to help each other?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m not so sure I trust myself with a razor down there.”
“I’m not so sure I trust you with a razor down there either!” Jessica says.
“Come on,” I coax her. “Let’s do it. I’m going to do it.”
I get up and go to the bathroom. Jessica follows me. “Get serious.”
I begin taking off my clothes. I have drunk two beers and I’m half drunk. I strip naked and turn on the shower. I get in and let the shower soak my prodigious bush. Then I take some shampoo and rub it in.
“Hand me a razor,” I tell Jessica, who does so.
“You’re crazy,” Jessica says, laughing, a little drunkenly.
I turn off the water and soap my bush up. I start shaving. It’s like peeling a coconut, all that dark hair falling away to reveal a pale, tender mound beneath.
When I first started getting hair down there, when I was 12 or 13, I was excited. But within a couple of years, it was already quite dense. I feel a sense of liberation as the hair comes away to reveal my pubic mound. I turn on the water and let it wash the hair away. It swirls down the drain.
“This part could be tricky,” I say. Most of the mound is clean shaven, but there are still tufts of hair along the outside of my labia and around the tender clitoral hood.
I sit down on the edge of the bathtub, and spread my legs wide. Carefully, I begin trying to shave around the tender parts. “I’m afraid I’m going to cut myself,” I say.
“Why don’t you leave a little bit right here,” she says, pointing to the area just above the folds of my pussy. “Like that woman at the pool tonight.”
“I thought you didn’t notice. No,” I say decidedly. “I want it shaved. Totally. I want a clean Barbie-doll look.”
It is awkward, trying to see myself down there.