After our little time together on the sofa, Tommy called me every day for the rest of the week. I took his calls and listened for the most part, but after the second time I had to tell him,
"Tommy, this isn't a boyfriend/girlfriend thing. It's not like that. That's not what's going on."
I sensed that Tommy didn't understand. His only experience up until that point was the high school scene – holding hands, making out in cars. That was his point of view on dealing with the relationship.
"You'd better come over here," I told him. The only way to explain it would be to show him.
To get ready for this afternoon's activities I shaved my pussy. Sitting on the toilet, I first used a scissors and comb to trim it down. Then I lathered up and carefully shaved, guiding myself with a hand mirror.
First I went for the 'landing strip' look; a narrow strip cropped down to no more than a 1/4", shaved completely bald from the clit on down. Hands on hips, I inspected my work in the mirror. Hmmm . . .
I decided to go a little further. Seated back on the toilet, I shaved it down to a little Hitler's mustache 'down there'. That was cute, but I felt I still wasn't there.
Then I shaved it down to an abbreviated little tuft of fur. Now I was getting somewhere.
Then I said 'to hell with it' and shaved my pussy completely bald. Because I was careful and washed and trimmed my pussy hair down before I'd started shaving and used a fresh razor blade, it was real smooth down there, no nubs. I rubbed in some lotion and went to put on some lingerie.
To suit the absolutely minimalist look down there, and to show it off, I chose a black lace bra and a pair of thigh-hi's and heels. That was it. No panties.
One last look at myself in the mirror. Bald as a billiard ball 'down there' and smooth as a baby's ass. I slapped on some glossy, ruby red lipstick – to advertise my specialty, right? Now I was ready for my teenage lover.
I pulled on a black silk mini-kimono and went downstairs to wait for Tommy to arrive.
Tommy was happy to see me. My eyes went straight to his jeans. He was VERY happy to see me. I took by the hand and pulled him inside before greeting him properly.
Tommy put his hands on my hips and pressed his body against me as we kissed. I could feel his hardness pressing against my mound as his hands went around to hold my ass. Tommy's a good kisser; we kissed long, slow and lovingly. It's a good thing I wasn't wearing any panties because I was getting wetter by the second.
Finally I broke the kiss – my heart was going pitter-patter – whew! I took Tommy by the hand and we went to the little breakfast nook off the kitchen. I got him a coke and sat down. When I crossed my legs the black silk mini-kimono parted and the tops of my thigh-hi's were visible.
We held hands at the table, like a pair of teenagers on a date at the malt shop or something. Except that I'm a fully grown woman, of course, dressed in black lingerie and showing some cleavage. I'm quite sure that none of the teenage girls Tommy ever dated dolled up like this for him.
"It's like this, Tommy," I started. "It's not just the age difference between you and me. I'm also married, of course."
Tommy squirmed a bit.
"What this is about is me. My needs. Let me put it this way: I'm probably the rarest kind of woman you will ever know in your life, Tommy."
Poor kid was really squirming now. I stood up, walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water because I needed to burn off this incredible nervous energy that was making my heart beat like a jack hammer. When I came back towards the nook I paused in the little entranceway, put my arm up against the wall and with the other hand I undid the sash to my kimono and let it fall open.
Tommy's jaw dropped when he saw my bald pussy.
"I'm a female pervert, Tommy," I said, smiling sweetly. Tommy's eyes were glued to my 'vertical smile'. "You're my boy toy, for me to play with."
An explanation is in order, not only for Tommy. I have a past that even my husband is not aware of. Dan knows I was married before, of course, but he has no idea of how things were for me in that relationship, and before.
Well, to begin with, I was a sexual superfreak when I was in college. Soon after I lost my virginity in my first years, my boyfriend of the time 'shared' me with his roommate. I didn't mind, I was all for it. I'd read about sexual adventures in my father's Penthouse magazines and I wanted to experience wild sex for myself.
Two cocks are better than one, right?
At one point I had four boyfriends, and I would rotate between them. If one of them called and wanted to go out with me, but I had something going on with the other, I'd tell him, No, not Thursday night, I'll be with Tom, or Dick, or Harry, or whoever . . .
I thought my wild years would end once I graduated and got married – to my first husband – but somehow things got crazier.