Luxury brunette in fishnet stockings.
This is, primarily, a story about my fascination with female body hair, especially when it sprouts and flows freely and abundantly. This book records one particular encounter. But before I begin I'd like to share some background information.
Annie, my wife, and I met in college. I've always been a bit of a geek, that's what she calls me, and shy around women. But from the moment I saw her talking with a couple of her friends in the student union I knew I had to get to know her better.
What first caught my eye was how small she was. And then I was struck by the beauty of her face, surrounded by a mass of rich red-brown curls. Finally, what clinched it was the sense of intense impish vitality that seemed to emanate from her like heat off a radiator. As I sat staring at her she turned slightly and looked straight into my eyes. I felt as if I'd been hit by lightning, so powerful was her presence. In the merest instant it seemed we each downloaded several gigabytes of information. And then she turned back to her friends.
It took awhile before much else happened. I was, as I said, a shy person. But slowly, like magnets drawn into each other's influence, we moved closer and closer throughout the next couple of weeks. And then we abruptly clicked. I learned later that she'd had her eye on me even before I'd seen her at the student union. It was all a cat and mouse game. And she, quite clearly, had been the cat.
We realized, even at the start, that we had very different approaches to interacting with the world and for a long time this made us both wonder if our relationship was, in fact, workable. But over the years we developed an understanding of how we complemented each other and came to deeply respect and value our differences.
Annie is the adventurous one, the seeker, the swashbuckler, the spunky sprite, the bold zephyr; I'm the ballast, the keel, the counterweight, the appreciator. I play Sancho Panza to her Don Quixote. After many long talks we've come to the conclusion that she expresses and instigates feelings that I carry within myself but don't yet feel comfortable acting on while I give her a sense of safety because she knows that if things get too crazy I'Il be clear-headed enough to put the brake on. Over the years we've developed a delicate, and delightfully vivid, balance between her style of being and mine to the profound enhancement of both our lives.
One of Annie's habits that threatened the stability of our early years was her openness to enjoying the attention of other men, especially when this included their physically intimate attention as well. She never made a secret of her other friendships and sexual dalliances and never apologized for them either. Her attitude was that it was her body and she could do with it what she would and if I couldn't handle her choices I could move on. It wasn't that she didn't understand my insecurities or empathize with the hurt I felt but, despite her real concern, she refused to be bound by my limitations.
And she didn't (and doesn't) maintain a double standard. She actively encouraged me to experience other women which, because of my diffidence, sometimes took the form of covert facilitation.
Eventually, as the true depth of her love and respect for me became clear, I began to appreciate and even delight in the gift of freedom she offered me. I never evolved into what anyone would call a womanizer but I liked knowing that if an interaction with a woman reached the point where sexual intimacy seemed like a good idea I could act on it without guilt. Another benefit was the quality of honesty it built between us. As our relationship progressed I felt less and less of a need to hide what I truly thought and felt because I learned that although she might express hurt, anger or irritation she was always willing to work through these emotions till we both knew where we stood. And, in time, through a rather long and painful process, I taught myself to do the same for her.
(tale # 10) get full text ... Luxury brunette in fishnet stockings.
Plump older redhead in stockings.
The next time I woke up it was daylight and Annie was preparing to leave the tent in last night's t-shirt and a pair of cut-off jeans. I could hear other people stirring outside.
"What time is it, " I asked.
She came over and gave me a quick good-morning kiss before answering. "It's about six-thirty, Hon; breakfast will be ready in another hour. There's probably some coffee now though." With a little wave and a smile she disappeared out the door. I lay back, listening to the sounds of people moving around me and the quiet murmur of voices. It was odd to have the private and public spheres separated only by a thin sheet of nylon fabric.
Finally I rose and, like Annie, donned a pair of cut-offs and a t-shirt and ambled down to the dining tent. There were about fifteen people sitting around drinking coffee or tea and talking. Annie was busy making french toast so I got my own cup of coffee and sat on the outside of the circle and listened to the conversation. After about fifteen minutes Heather appeared and, after speaking to Annie for a couple of minutes, brought her cup of coffee over to sit beside me. She was wearing a long purple and black dress that was made out of a diaphanous, almost transparent, material. The fact that I could see the vague shapes of her large breasts shifting under the gauze and the shadow of her full pubic patch unnerved me. Somehow she seemed more naked than the nude women I'd seen yesterday. I was extremely aroused, especially after the fantasy session with Annie last night, but I didn't feel comfortable revealing this to Heather. However, adding to my distress, I had the distinct suspicion that Heather was well aware of my turmoil and was intentionally playing on my arousal. And succeeding. Even though we managed to maintain a mangled conversation our words conveyed the least of our communication.
At one point Annie came over and brought Heather and me each a plate piled with scrambled eggs, fried potatoes and french toast. As she set the plates in front of us I happened to catch the rather enigmatic glance that passed between them.
"You've got a very sweet husband, " Heather said, placing her hand on my bare thigh and giving it a squeeze.
I felt flushed and flustered. I had an almost full erection that, because I'd been unable to adjust it, had snaked down the leg of my cut-offs and was threatening to stick its head out the bottom. I looked at Annie with a pleading expression. My dear wife just giggled and headed back to the stove.
I tried to focus my attention on eating but it was hard to concentrate with Heather's nearly naked body so close by. I couldn't help but wonder what she'd look like without the dress on, what the true extent of her hairiness was. Annie had talked about Heather's "hairy cunt" last night but I didn't know if she was speaking of something she'd seen or was just trying to excite me. I was hoping I'd get the chance to see for myself sometime during the weekend.
Even while I was entertaining these thoughts, and we ate, Heather and I continued to talk. As she stopped being so flirtatious and the conversation deepened I began to feel more at ease. I asked her about her involvement with the Wylde Wymyn and what it meant to her and, as she answered my questions, I realized that what I'd taken to be a kind of joke was actually a disciplined search for life-sustaining values. We finished eating and kept talking.
(tale # 11) get full text ... Plump older redhead in stockings.
Awesome redhead spread black stocks.
I had been married and divorced, and was on the verge of getting married again, all before the age of 30. My first wife was a 'greener grass' type. You know, 'the grass is always greener on the other side'. She was always looking for a better deal. I wasn't one who thought of marriage that way, so it ended. Our sex life had been good in my opinion, but when she decided she couldn't keep her legs closed, I knew it was time for me to move on.
My next choice was a much better one though. I love her and she loves me, and there is no chance of her ever cheating on me, or me on her. Our sex life is great, and as I mentioned before, we are going to get married in the near future. My current girlfriend Ann is more adventurous in the bedroom, usually pulling me along into trying new things. My ex wife Pat was kind of sexually adventurous as well, but not as much as Ann.
I still lived in the same town after I got divorced, and that is where I met Ann. That being the case, Ann and Pat knew each other. They weren't friends before, but they knew who each other was, and got along decently. They were different as night and day though. Pat is tall, about 5'10", and a little on the heavy side, with short brown hair, and brown eyes. Ann is only about 5'5", slim but with nice large tits, long blonde hair and blue eyes. And yes, her blonde hair was natural. I'm 6', 190 lbs, with short blonde hair and blue eyes as well. Ann and I have always been told that we look good together.
I don't talk to my ex very often. We really have nothing to talk about anymore, and I try to avoid her as much as possible. Still, she calls me with news of this or that. If she doesn't get ahold of me, she chats with Ann. I'm not sure I should be happy that my girlfriend and my ex get along.
The other day after I got home from work, the phone was ringing as soon as I hit the door. Ann would not be home for another two hours, and almost nobody calls for me, which is just the way I like it. I answer it anyways, because it might be Ann. It wasn't this time, it was my ex Pat.
"Hiya Brad. Whatcha been up to?" she asked
"Same old, same old. All work and no play. How about you?"
"Actually I need a little help moving some stuff. Do you think you could give me a hand after you get off of work tomorrow?"
My first thought was "HELL NO!", but I knew the disapproving look Ann would give me for not "being civil", so I agreed. Why is it that even after you're divorced, your ex still has ways of getting you to do things? Why couldn't my girlfriend be one of those jealous types who wanted me to have nothing to do with my ex. But no, she seemed to think I should stay on friendly terms with my ex. Ann and Pat had become a little more friendly since we have been together. They see each other at the store sometimes, and every so often they even go out shopping together.
(tale # 12) get full text ... Awesome redhead spread black stocks.
Bride in white lingerie and stockings spreads legs.
To get the background for this story, you should read my first story - Little Beat Off Boy. For those that haven't read it, basically it tells how I met my girlfriend and she made me beat off for her. I should tell you that Jean is about 5' 8" and very athletic. She has 34 C breasts, long brown hair and a nice tight athletic body with an ass that won't quit. I'm also about 5'8", 140 lbs. with a swimmers build. This story starts where my previous story ends.
When I woke up the next day, I could barely look Jean in the eye. I tried to put my cloths on as fast as possible and leave, but she would have none of that. She insisted that I stay for breakfast. Since it was a Saturday and I didn't have to work, I stayed. Jean was quite a good cook. We had a great breakfast and talked for several hours. Although I started to feel more at ease, I was still conscious of the fact that the night before I had beat off on to her leg and been made to lick it off. She never mentioned it and I was too embarrassed to say anything.
When I finally did have to leave, Jean gave me her phone number and said that I should call her...unless I was free that night. I told her I was free and made plans to pick her up at 7:00 for a movie.
Over the next few weeks we went out almost every night, but all of our dates ended the same way - I had too much to drink and spent the night at her house. She would come to bed, see my little hard-on and make me beat off, and then lick it up. I was starting to think that I would never have sex with her. I tried everything I could think of - getting her drunk, long massages, make out sessions. We would always end up the same way - my hand wrapped around my little dick, beating off on her leg and me kneeling down and licking her leg clean.
Finally, one night I had way too much to drink. I started blubbering about wanting sex. Jean said "I'm sorry, I just don't feel like having sex with you. Look, you're a nice guy and I enjoy our time together. Why do you want to ruin it by having sex? Besides, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but with that little four inch dick of yours, I'm not sure I would feel anything." She giggled when she told me that and even though I was humiliated, I couldn't think of anything to say. I had another drink, which was a big mistake, and the last thing I remember was crying on her shoulder while she put her arm around my shoulders and said "Come on over to mommy. That's a good little boy. Mommy doesn't like to see her little boy sad. That's right, play with your little thing. Make it squirt like a big boy!"
I don't know if I ever did squirt, but in the morning I woke up with a king-size hangover. I looked over and Jean was not in the room so I started to get up to find her and almost fell over when I looked down. Sometime during the night, she had put diapers and rubber pants on me. I immediately tried to take them off and noticed that there was a wire that ran through the rubber pants with a lock on it. I pulled on the lock to no avail and finally gave up.
I went down stairs and confronted Jean by asking her what she thought she was doing. She looked at me and said, "If you are going to act like a little boy, you are going to be treated like a little boy. You cried like a little baby, squirted your nasty stuff all over last night and then fell asleep before you cleaned it up. I'm not your maid and I'm not going to clean up after you. Further, I'm going to teach you a lesson starting right now."
I was so shocked, I couldn't respond. I just stared at her while she continued, "When you are dressed as a baby, you don't walk, talk, or do anything a baby wouldn't do. I'll allow you three words - peepee, poopoo and mess. When you have to do one of the three, you can let me know." When I asked her what mess was, she said, "A mess is what you make when you squirt your little load. You can pee and poop when you need to, but if I ever catch you making a mess without my permission, I can't begin to tell you how sorry you will be."
I thought for a minute and then decided that this was the final draw. She had made me beat off like a little boy and lick it up off of her leg, but this was too much. When I told her so, she said, "You are free to leave any time." I was so mad, I walked right out the door. As soon as I was out the door, I realized what a mistake I had made. It was 10:00 A.M. and there were people out and about in her neighborhood. I was standing there in a diaper and rubber pants with people staring and laughing.
(tale # 13) get full text ... Bride in white lingerie and stockings spreads legs.
Latex boots and nylon stockings gal.
We managed to get up in time to catch the tail end of the evening meal. It seemed strange to be sitting across from Heather and Cassie again, twenty-four hours after meeting them, and be on such different terms of intimacy. All four of us were playing footsie under the table and exchanging delighted, sparkle-eyed, grins above it as we ate and talked. It felt wonderful. There was a joyous free and easy flow of affection and sexual play among us. Annie and I were somewhat concerned at first about how the other people in the camp would react to our unusual bond but Heather and Cassie assured us that these were very tolerant people regarding relationships and this proved to be true. Later, the only comments we heard simply reflected the fact that we were viewed as a quartet without any negative implications.
While we were eating, the low throbbing sound of drums began to emanate from the woods, some distance away. Cassie and Heather explained that dancing around a bonfire to the beat of drums was a regular feature of these gatherings. Annie and I were both less than feverous with enthusiasm but it was clear that our two companions were eagerly anticipating the event so we quickly finished eating and joined them in finding the path that led to the constant thumping beat that called to us out of the gathering dark. As we got closer I felt the sonorous pounding quickening my blood and deepening my breath, touching something buried within.
They'd neglected to mention that most of the dancers danced naked so it was a bit of a shock for me when the bonfire came into sight and we saw the flashing forms of a number of naked men and women circling around it, moving to the insistant pounding cadence of the handmade Native American style drums. Heather and Cassie pulled off their dresses as soon as we reached the circle of people watching the dancers. Annie wasn't far behind. I however, chose to remain with the other spectators.
Heather was the hairiest woman among them. I enjoyed watching her dance. She seemed to melt easily into the intoxicating rhythm, oblivious to the wild swinging of her breasts. I was enthralled by the shifting views of her hairiness revealed by the fire's wavering light.
Cassie was more sedate, less absorbed. I enjoyed watching her too. Her hairiness, I realized, was almost as extensive as Heather's but much lighter, more subtle. Annie, my darling wife, was her usual spritely self and danced with quick joyful leaps. I saw that the three of them maintained an awareness of each other through playful touches and glances.
After observing the variety of movements and soaking up the primal excitement of the drums I found the courage to shuck off my t-shirt and cut-offs and join the exultant throng. The three women quickly noticed my presence and each greeted me with a smile or pat. It was a new experience in a weekend crammed with fascinating new experiences. I would never have imagined how exhilarated I could feel dancing naked with a bunch of other naked people around a fire in the woods to the solid hammering pulse of drums.
We danced for almost six hours, taking occasional breaks to sit on the grass with the spectators and other weary dancers. Finally Cassie announced that she'd had enough. I was ready to go too but both Heather and Annie were caught up in the fever of the dance.
"You guys go back to the tent and we'll show up when we show up, okay?" Annie said.
So Cassie and I put on our clothes and fumbled our way along the pitch black path. "We should have brought flashlights," Cassie grumbled irritably, at one point. For the most part, however, we were silent. I sensed that she was absorbed in her own thoughts and I didn't feel much like talking myself. I felt physically tired and yet light-hearted. When we got back to the tent we lit the propane lantern only long enough to take off our clothes again and arrange the bedclothes. There was an inexplicable tension between us that nibbled at the back of my mind but didn't capture my full attention. I just assumed that something was bothering her. After seeing that she was settled I shut off the lantern and lay down a couple of feet away.
(tale # 14) get full text ... Latex boots and nylon stockings gal.
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