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A Strange Nostalgia

#MasturbationMondayIt is often stated that porn, it seems, has decided that women should be hairless from the eyelids down. Now, whether or not porn is actually responsible (I have my doubts as people are capable of determining their own preferences, without having them rubbed in their faces, as it were) it is a look that many women chose, for whatever reason, subscribe to. Now, on the subject of rubbing my face in it,  as a man who has spend a lot of time with my head between women’s thighs, I will admit that there is something particularly appealing about going down on a lovely, smooth cunt; being able to explore every nook, every fold with my tongue as I take her (hopefully) on a journey to orgasm. I also know a few women who, having embraced the bare look, say that it increases the sensations for them, the friction on their clit is so much more intense because there is no barrier.

Now all of this is fine and good, and I would never tell anyone how they should, or indeed shouldn’t style their intimate areas but, damn it, I actually am very fond of pubic hair on a woman.

There! I’ve said it! I’m out and proud! I am a pube fan! I enjoy getting my nose tickled when I go gown on a woman.

Now that’s not to say I don’t have preferences; I do. My preference is for tidy, trimmed, short but not too short. If the lips are smooth, that’s an added bonus. But at the end of the day, I’ll take what’s presented to me. In a sexual career going back over quarter of a century, I’ve met all kinds of women with all kinds of styling; from wild and natural, to as bald and smooth as a cue-ball and, you know what? I’’e loved everyone of them.

But for me, pubic hair will always elicit fond memories.

As a randy teenager in the late 1980s, and an even randier young man in the early 1990s (OK, we’re talking mostly about my student days here), I used to experience a small feeling of triumph when, during the course of a heavy petting session, my fingers eventually worked their way down her body and sought out and found those soft curls; that triangle of hair that was pointing my fingers towards their goal. I used to (and still do if circumstances allow) run my fingers through that patch of hair, feeling it get progressively damper as I got closer and closer to her opening. When I went down on a girl, I loved the way those soft tufts tickled my nose. Yes, yes, there were those odd awkward moments when a stray hair lodged itself somewhere it shouldn’t, but that was just one of those things you shrugged off.

The first time I encountered a girl who had removed her pubic hair was a bit of a surprise. As I slid my fingers into her knickers, I was waiting for that customary contact; that furry reassurance that I was going in the right direction. Making contact with her clit, without first encountering anything to play with was, I’ll admit, a bit of a shock. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to mind that I’d gone straight there, and once I got over my sense of having missed out on something, I went on to enjoy myself with her, and her with me.

Since then, it seems the prevalence of smoothness continues to increase unabated, and the pubic bush seems to be heading towards extinction. Should this ever happen, I for one will certainly mourn it’s passing, if only for the memories of my younger days.

Oh, and for the record I keep my own short above, and smooth below. Well, you girls are no more fond of nature’s dental floss than we guys are…

KW

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