He wanted her to grow her pubic hair.
He didn’t ask. He didn’t insist. He suggested.
“I wonder what it would look like if you grow your pubic hair.”
That’s all he said while he softly ran his finger down her slit, just not parting her labia. Lee-Anne shivered, partly because she longed for his finger deep inside her, but mostly because she hated pubic hair. It was her choice to be clean shaven. It had been her choice for the last twenty years. Back when she was eleven and she had discovered the first fluff on her vulva, she had locked herself in the bathroom and had used her father’s razor to rid herself of the unwanted hair.
And now, he wanted her to grow her pubic hair.
Lee-Anne knew she would do it. He didn’t have to ask. He didn’t have to insist. All he had to do was to make a suggestion and she would do it.
She always did what he wanted.
* * * * * * * * * *
Nervous and strangely excited, Lee-Anne waited for him to join her in bed. The duvet covered the lower part of her body. Minutes later she watched as he slowly pulled the duvet down to expose her crotch. His eyes locked with hers as his hand cupped her sex. Her hairy sex. The last weeks had been hell and many days she had to resist the urge to grab a razor and remove the growth. Thoughts of him and his words stopped her.
His face showed no emotion – neither approval nor disapproval. His middle finger pushed down and slipped between her labia. Her wetness was audible. Lee-Anne explored his face for signs of emotion. None. She moaned slightly and almost closed her eyes when he entered her sex with his finger. He pushed in deeper; as deep as he could. Pulled out and pushed in again. Slow at first, but then quicker, fucking her with one finger. Curling that finger inside her, touching her tender spot, igniting her body. Lee-Anne had no control over her eyes anymore. They closed. She lost herself in the building orgasm.
Lee-Anne’s eyes flew open and she instinctively tried to move away from him. His steel grip held her in place. In his fist, he held her bush – the bush attached to her body. It hurt as he held on, even though she moaned. Something had changed. The air around them was pregnant with expectation.
“Tell me what you feel,” he said.
“Tell me what you feel,” he said again.
“Tell me what you feel.”
Lee-Anne didn’t answer. He pulled tighter. Her body reacted. Her nipples hardened. Her pussy twitched. Wetness pooled inside, ready to escape between her lips. Her skin tingled with… expectation? Wonderment?
He nodded and tightened his grip.
Each time Lee-Anne spoke, he tightened his grip, pulling the hairs tight and her skin up. She panted and puffed. She moaned and groaned. Her eyes shot daggers at him and a smile curled around his mouth.
“Use the pain,” he said and she frowned.
“Use the pain if you want release.”
Lee-Anne closed her eyes. The pain overwhelmed her. Almost. She leaned into it. Accepted it. Welcomed it. Allowed him to hurt her. Her wetness built. Her nipples begged for attention. Her belly tightened. The muscles in her legs twitched. Spasms filled her cunt as it built to a crescendo. The pain was intense. The orgasm even more so.
He cradled her in his arms, his fingers still tangled in her pubic hair, but the pain was gone. When her breathing slowed he released her pubic hair and opened his hand. The force of his grip had pulled several hairs from her vulva. Lee-Anne smiled when a thought crossed her mind: having pubic hair suddenly wasn’t all that bad anymore.
© Rebel’s Notes