Last night, as with most nights, after we got into bed, after we finished talking about whether or not we’d be able to bear watching the next episode of Tudors–the beheading of Anne Boleyn, after I snuggled into Nick’s bare chest, inhaled his scent, felt the warmth of his body send shivers through me, his hand began to wander over me, along the curve of my waist, over my hips, to the slight roundness of my bottom. Next, he meandered to my belly, then down, down, to that part of me that always swells and throbs as he approaches.
But last night, the closer he moved toward the hideout of my little sex nub, the harder I tried to hide my smile. Soon, he’d discover my surprise.
I’m not sure what happened first, the pause of his hand over my velvet spot, his slight gasp, his widened eyes or his smile.
“You got waxed,” he said, eyes still wide. “You’re so soft!”
Of course, I knew how soft I felt, because I’d already touched myself. Soft as velvet? No. Silk? Maybe. There aren’t many things on this earth softer than a bare, naked . . . uh . . . I always get stuck here.
What word to you prefer? Nick and I call my sexy central processor a vagina. But I’m sure many find that word too clinical. Anyway, you get the picture.
I was bare–as naked as could be.
There was a time when I’ll admit, I thought it was kind of weird, gross even, that men liked a bare . . . okay, okay, I’ll say it . . . pussy.
What–you want me to look like a little girl?
But, as anyone who reads this blog knows, Nick and I like to play and experiment. With Nick, I feel the freedom to be open-minded, because I know he’s not going to hold me to something I’m not comfortable with.
So, early on, I began waxing my vagina/pussy/twat/beaver. And there was no landing strip to my man cave. No, I went all the way–bare naked.
And I love it.
At least for the first week. Then, of course, I have to deal with stubble, which I hate, but Nick still loves. You see, he loves everything about my vagina. What a lucky girl am I!
Still, I’ve told him that during those few days between silky smooth and the appearance of soft, short pubic hair, the stubble makes me feel uncomfortable and unattractive. So much so, I’ve thought about stopping with the waxing and letting it grow out to it’s luxurious softness again.
But, I feel more exposed (and that makes me feel sexier), even cleaner when I’m bare.
So, now, I’m seriously considering laser treatments.