Author's Note:
Hello dear reader...
In order to make this story work, I decided to set it a little way off in the future, when we are no longer confined by Covid 19 rules and restrictions and it is safe to sit in a pub/restaurant/bar without masks or be governed by social distancing.
Ok, let's get on with it
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I had never really thought about shaving my pubic hair. At least, not at my age. I'm 80 now, but I started when I was 55. I suppose you could say I was a little late to the party, but better late than never. I just didn't how much it could change my life.
My name is Pamela and like I said I am 80 now and divorced. Still, it's best not to dwell on such things.
A quick description of myself: I am brunette, still...actually if I am honest, it's more grey with darker highlights. I keep it a short bob nowadays, but in the time that this story is set, I had shoulder length, lush, chestnut brown hair, which I kept in either a pony-tail or wore it long.
My hair was one of the things that my husband found attractive about me. That and my boobs. Judging by some of the man-made creations I see on TV these days, I am thankful that my D cups are still mine. They might sag a little but they're all mine.
Back in my day, I also had a fine pair of pins and a bum that could stop traffic. That don't mean that it's huge, but it was a perfect peach. That was another thing that Leonard liked about me.
It's funny though how life deals you certain cards and demands you play with them. Until I became menopausal, Lenny couldn't keep his hands off me. We had a healthy and very satisfying sex life, which was helped by the fact that my husband was extremely well endowed. With seven inches of solid man meat, when he was erect and a pair of balls that could make a bull jealous, I never had any need to complain. Lenny's cock filled me up and stretched my pussy just the way I liked it.
Then I started to gain a little weight, when I became menopausal, around the age of 55 and suddenly he stopped touching me and began finding reasons to stay late at work. I was convinced he was having an affair and I even considered hiring a private investigator, but instead I just flat out demanded to know why he'd stopping fucking me. As pathetic as it sounds, the truth was that my weight gain had put him off. I was livid and told him that he would be sleeping in the spare room until he came to his senses.
As hurt as I felt, I had to admit that Leonard had struck a nerve. After showering one morning, I stood in front of the mirror took a good, hard look at my naked self.
My tits hadn't changed or sagged much and as I tweaked nipples, to make them hard, they stood proud of my breasts like blackberries on the bramble.
Sure, I noticed a slight forming of a spare tire around my midriff and resolved that if I had any hope of getting my sex life back, then that would have to go.
So I signed up to a Zumba class with my friend Vera. I bought all the right gear; leotard that dared to split my bum in two, yoga pants that gave me camel toe and a head band. The first lesson almost killed me. I had never been that active before in my life. But I wasn't going to quit. There was too much at stake.
After a few weeks, I started to see a change in my body shape, but I knew that I had a way to go before Leonard might see me as attractive again.
In the changing rooms, after a particularly heavy Zumba session, Vera and I began a conversation that would change my life forever.
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The changing rooms at the sports center were pretty much like anywhere else,
I would have thought. White tiles on the walls and floor, strip fluorescent lighting in ceiling that cast a cold, clinical light on everything. Along two walls were lockers, four high and in blocks of fifty. At the end of each block were four changing cubicles, for those women who didn't desire to show off their bodies to the rest of the female population. At one end was the entrance and the other end led into the swimming pool arena. In the center of the room were benches with metal clothing frames attached.
Usually Vera and I used the cubicles, but to my chagrin, they were all occupied, so we had to take our clothes and towels from the lockers and use the clothing frames. I watched Vera as she hung up her trousers and blouse. As she hung up her bra, she dropped her panties and they landed on the wet floor.
She picked them up and cursed. Holding them in front of her face, I could clearly see the rear of them was soaked. They were purple satin with lace trimming the leg holes and the waist.
"I guess I'll have to go command style," she said, with annoyed tone.
She scrunched up into a ball and wrung the water from them, before tossing them into her gym bag. Then she proceeded to remove her gym clothing.
"Are you planning on showering?" I asked. We normally didn't and waited until we got to our own homes.
"I've got a hot date tonight," she replied. "It's easier for to shower and make up here than to rush when I get home."
As Vera was my ride home, I felt compelled to follow suit and get undressed.
As I was removing my tank top, I noticed Vera remove her leggings, under which she wore a red thong. I was slightly taken aback by the sight of the thin piece of material that run up the crack of her bottom, separating her cheeks. Then she slid her thumbs into waistband of the garment and pulled them down over her knees, bending over to remove them completely. I was shocked at how easy it was for me to gaze at her bottom.
Vera is a couple of years older than me. She's a bottle redhead and her long luxurious hair falls about her shoulders and frames her beautifully tanned features. Her emerald green eyes glint when she smiles. She paints her full lips with a scarlet lipstick. In truth, although it might a seem a strange thing to say about another woman, but Vera is the epitome of sex on legs. Those legs go on for ever and at their top is a bottom that men would die for and most women would kill to have. I describe mine as a peach, but hers is more a pear shape. Her breasts are a modest size, not like my D cups but perky all the same, with lovely pink nipples.
When she turned around, she must have seen me standing there with my mouth wide open. She wondered for a moment what it was I was looking at.
Then she smiled when she realized.
"Have you never seen a shaven pussy before, Pam?" she asked.
I don't think I heard her because she repeated the question.
"Oh, er, sorry," was my reply. "You don't seem to have any pubic hair."
"No," she replied, in a calm voice. "I've been shaving since I was divorced."