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A Tumblr follower asks: where do you stand on pubic hair?


I don’t have a firm stance on pubic hair.

On the one hand, I love a man with a thick pelt of hair. I love to run my fingers through the thatch at the base of his cock and pull him to me. I love to have my nose tickled when I deep throat him, when I take him all the way in my mouth with his hands in my hair, his hips thrusting because I’m making him feel so damned good. I like it when it’s still damp and curly from his shower, or when I nuzzle his balls and he smells funky and sweaty from working all day. I love it when I’m shaved bare and I straddle him, sliding him inside me and feeling the coarse nest of hair against my naked, sensitive skin and how it feels when I grind my clit against him. I love to go down on him after he’s made me cum and smell my own muskiness perfuming his pubic hair.

But I also I love it when he stands in the hot spray of the shower and maybe on a whim gets the sudden inspiration to get rid of every last wiry curl. I love seeing every inch of a man’s shaft from root to tip. I love to slide my hands over the smooth skin, especially if I can slip my hand inside his boxers and find nothing but flesh with no worries of pulling too hard or getting anything caught in a wayward zipper. I love my naked, hairless flesh touching his. So much lovely skin, so much beautiful contact. So many open, exposed, unprotected nerve endings rubbing against each other.

I love it when the hair is starting to grow back. I love the stubble beneath my fingers and I caress him, and feel the sharpish ends of the hairs against me like a fine brush. It hurts, but so good. The shorter hairs against my ass, against my chin, under my lips are all more intense sensations. It’s more fiery for a few days, then one day, it’s not. The hair grows ever longer, ever softer, ever thicker again, until I can run my hands through it and again revel in the feeling of his most private curls between my fingers again.