Shaven, lasered, plucked, waxed

D succumbed to summer and shaved her armpits. So one of my special joys in her has gone. But the greater loss is hers; she delighted in herself unshaven even more than I did. She felt sexier. She was sexier. What, though, is a woman to do, working out at the gym, going to the beach, or on a cruise-ship for a week with her mother and daughters?

Sexual dimorphism is mild in humans compared to most other primates. Girls and boys differ hardly at all, men and women remarkably little. Hairiness is one of the very few aspects of bodily appearance in which there is a significant divergence between the sexes after puberty. Through plucking and shaving, waxing and trimming, this divergence is accentuated and extended. While the boys become hairy men, the girls do their best to remain hairlessly girlish.

Studies of depilation in the US, Australia, and the UK show very high rates of body-hair removal or minimization. Eyebrows are plucked, pubic hair trimmed back to the bikini-line or further, legs and underarms are shaved bare, and facial hair removed. The onset of puberty immediately confronts girls with a clash between their own bodies and the cultural ideals of femininity, and most women begin removing or minimizing body-hair at or before the age of sixteen. An excellent study, 'Body hair removal: the 'mundane' production of normative femininity', published in the research journal Sex Roles, gives the following figures for hair removal or reduction among women in the UK: underarms, 98.6%; legs, 93.6%; pubic region, 85.6%; eyebrows, 82.4%; face, 41.3%; nipples or breasts, 12.5%; stomach, 11%; arms, 8.1%; toes, 2.3%. Anything done by more than eight women in ten is clearly culturally normative, so men like me, who prefer women unaltered, are out of luck.

D's armpits are still sexy if she eschews deodorant, so that I can still go down on them with my mouth, licking and sucking and nipping, tasting her sweat. And they remain for her an erotic zone - I triggered three or four orgasms while fucking her by working them with my mouth just a couple of days after she shaved. But none of that compensates entirely for the sad look of her armpits bereft of the dark, wiry hair that I so loved.

D has recently had much of her leg-hair removed by laser, leaving her thighs and calves smooth and soft. She loves them this way, having hated her hairy legs for almost forty years, and I admit that it is delightful to lick and suck and kiss my way up her legs, moving slowly towards the line at the top of her thighs where her thick, tufted cunt-hair begins. Smooth is much better than stubble, even if unshaven, unlasered, unwaxed is best of all.

[The picture is of Madonna, or so the caption says. Few things made me angrier last year than numerous cruel and shallow remarks about facial hair on her daughter, Lourdes, who is clearly going to be as sexy as her mother.]

Smell

Many things that are true of smell are also true of Taste.

I smoked for thirty years, and gave up just a few years ago. I loved everything about smoking - the rituals of buying, unwrapping, opening; tapping the top of the pack to encourage the first cigarette to offer itself up; the spark of the flint; the petrol flare of the Zippo; the grey-blue skeins of smoke from the burning end of the cigarette; the grey-brown fog exhaled from deep in the lungs; the smells of a smoky room, a brimming ashtray. I was sceptical of stories about the delights in store for me once my sense of smell recovered from the assault of twenty a day, and that scepticism has been largely borne out - things smell much the way they always did. Bad things smell no worse; good things smell no better. But I pay more attention to smell during sex than I used to, and perhaps this has something to do with not smoking.

One of the things that is frustrating about the friendly, functional, efficient five- or ten-minute fucks with C is that there is no time to build up any real smell of sex. Someone walking into the room thirty seconds after we were done would probably not notice anything. It takes time to work up a sweat, to pump the molecules out of her cunt and into the air, to dampen the sheets. C, who is post-menopausal, insists on applying Astroglide beforehand too, and I think this has a neutralizing effect on the smell of her cunt. Afterwards, there is no slow leaking, no smearing of the residue of cunt-juice and come on our bodies; for it is time to be up and wiping off and getting on with the day and its business.

It is not just a matter of time, of course. Five minutes with Q is probably enough to perfume a large room, what with the pace of fucking, her lavish ejaculations, the fact that we both delight in our own and each other's smells. F is acutely aware of smell too, and routinely interrupts fucking to point our how great the smell of our sex is. Like Q, F is an enemy of deodorant, and I have largely given up on the stuff because of the pleasure that it prevents. D is perhaps a bit less enthusiastic about my ripe armpits, but does her best to avoid deodorant in the run up to seeing me, and that together with the fact that she has not shaved since the end of the summer makes her armpits unbelievably erotic.

Smell persists. Typically, I have to shower after extra-marital sex and so do not get to carry the smell of sex away with me. But I like, if I can, to dip a finger before departing, to take at least a little along. On the subway, I can then lift my finger to my nose and catch the scent of cunt. When I was a smoker, this smell overlaid that of tobacco, and I liked the blend. When I visited MRR for long weekends in my twenties, I would carry her cunt on my fingers all through the long cross-country train journey home, sniffing until I could no longer tell whether any of her scent remained, or whether it was just the tobacco. And that, in turn, eroticized the smell, so that for many years I associated the tobacco smell on my fingers with M and her cunt.

In fabric, smells persist for longer. Before I became a liar, cheat, and adulterer, I subsisted sexually on intra-marital sex plus liberal amounts of masturbation, and this I would often fuel by sniffing C's underwear (all of it black). At times, it almost seemed that sniffing alone could practically bring me to orgasm. I don't recall having access to any other woman's underwear in those years, so I am not sure if the effect was C-specific: certainly I thought about her when I jerked off and came. Opportunities to sniff other women's underwear since I became an LCA have been irregular, but if I could be sure they were safe from discovery, I would love to have a collection of underwear, suitably scented and stained. I am not confident that I could tell which belonged to whom by smell alone.

Taste

Porn movies work with light and sound, and cannot capture or convey touch, taste, or smell. Yet arguably, vision and hearing are the senses least involved in sex. I do like to see and hear the person I am fucking, but I think that is mainly because seeing and hearing are important to reading their responses, and because it is delightful to see and hear another person's delight. Touch, taste, and smell carry for me a stronger and more direct sexual charge: I am more aroused by sniffing the crotch of a pair of C's panties from the laundry-basket than I am by the sight of her undressing. However wonderful a bloody finger looks after it has been in a bloody cunt, it tastes even better.

Taste and smell are senses that run parallel to each other, and smelling a cunt tells me a lot about how it will taste. A finger dipped in a cunt can be smelled and then tasted, and what is tasted is just what was smelled. Yet there is also discontinuity between them, for tasting requires contact, in some way or another, and so brings in sensations of texture, temperature, touch. D finds the moments when I merely sniff at her cunt, before I extend my tongue to taste her, exquisitely arousing: she knows the touch of my tongue is coming, but not when; meanwhile, I am smelling her, and she knows how much that turns me on. This kind of smelling is quite unlike tasting, and delays it; the delay is itself erotic. The smell of a woman's armpits, if she has avoided deodorant for a while, is also extremely arousing, and tasting her armpits, nibbling at the hairs, sucking on her flesh, is delicious too, and I can play with delay in that case as well.

Q, because she ejaculates, adds an entirely new dimension in terms of taste. When we were together at the Liberty Inn, we conducted an experiment to see if eating asparagus had a noticeable effect on the taste of her come, as it does on the taste of urine. She ate a bunch of asparagus stalks and after a suitable interval, sat on my face. I sucked and licked at her clit and she came copiously in my mouth. I shared the liquid with her, and we agreed: no 'asparagus pee' taste at all. What that shows, I am not sure. But by producing this liquid in such quantities, it is possible to drink from Q, to swallow her, and so to taste her without touching, or at least, without being in contact with her at the moment of tasting. She could position herself over my face, bring herself off, and come in my mouth without there being any contact between us at all.

I love to taste cunts, and envy women who get to suck my cock after I have fucked them: they get to taste themselves on my cock. For similar reasons, I like to taste my own seed leaking out after I have come inside a cunt or an ass (or for that matter, a mouth). Semen - my own anyway - varies a lot both in terms of taste and texture. Sometimes bland, sometimes salty, sometimes frothy, sometimes gritty. From the time that I began masturbating, I have always tasted my come, and very often cleaned up after ejaculation by scooping as much into my mouth as possible. I remember being surprised and incredulous when I first discovered that there were men who had never tasted their own seed, and who thought the idea disgusting. Even odder, that there are men who would not taste their own seed but still want women to swallow it.

Clean assholes have their own taste, which I am also a fan of. The taste of shit I do not seek out, as some people do, but I do not balk at it either. Anal sex is sometimes messy, and going back and forth among ass- and cunt-fucking, cunt-eating, face-sitting, cock-sucking, the mess can get spread around. Whatever comes with sex is sexy, in my view. That principle certainly extends to cover shit and piss, as by-products. But I think this is a different sort of sexiness, one that is derivative rather than, as with seed and cunt-juice, come and sweat, constitutive.

Blood - menstrual blood - is for me in the constitutive category too. I have not had the pleasure of being with Q during a period yet, but I am looking forward to that very much, as she delights in her own body and blood. F loves a bloody fuck, and by now, D is as turned on by period sex as I am. Menstrual blood varies in taste a lot, both from woman to woman, and from one stage of a period to another. It can, I admit, sometimes smell and taste rank or rancid, usually towards the end. But even then, I have no qualms about going down, and I can't imagine why anyone would have any hesitation in fucking. A bloody cunt is one of the most exciting things to taste and to smell, to finger, to fuck. The blood can be smeared on nipples or used as lipstick, and so tasted and retasted. Daubed on thighs or breasts it can be admired, licked off, reapplied.

C no longer menstruates, which saddens me. I think it would sadden her, if she thought about it, but - perhaps sensibly - she does not. As a signal of fertility, menstruation is tied to reproduction, and no doubt that fact is at the root of its erotic power. But what then accounts for the fact that many cultures prohibit or frown upon period sex, that many men and women find the idea repulsive? As usual with evolutionary psychology, its pseudo-explanations have a momentary charm, but dissolve into nothing once serious thinking begins.

[The picture at the head of this post is Louis-Leopold Boilly, Les Cinq Sens (The Five Senses), 1823.]

Health and Efficiency

Where I grew up, pornography was difficult to obtain. Most respectable newsagents would not stock it, and even the unrespectable ones would not sell it to thirteen year-old boys. There was, however, a magazine called Health and Efficiency that boys at my school would sometimes get hold of. This was not pornography but a nudist or naturist magazine. It still exists:

http://henaturist.net

When I saw Health and Efficiency as a teenager, all or almost all the pictures were in black and white. And most of the women in the pictures were unshaven everywhere - natural women. If I close my eyes and summon up the sexiest image I can think of, I am probably channelling some photograph from Health and Efficiency in 1973: a woman, small-breasted but with stubby, large nipples, lying on her back, perhaps on a rock by the sea or in a field of grass; her arms are stretched out above her head, and in each armpit is a thick tuft of dark hair, matching the triangle of hair at her crotch. That hair runs up in a thinning line to her navel, down the top of her thighs. She is quite slender, long-legged, tanned, slightly masculine in appearance somehow. I think of her as European or Scandinavian, and impossible to attain.

Z does not shave her armpits [Z to A]. The discovery of that fact the first time that we met, when she came to my office to watch me jerk off, made the whole episode much more thrilling. D let the hair under her arms grow last winter, and so turned her armpits into a highly erogenous zone - a sensitization that survived her shaving them again for the past summer. She is now letting the hair grow, and matches my Health and Efficiency-derived fantasy image closely: the small, pert breasts with big nipples, the narrow waist, wide hips, long legs, the hair under her arms and at her crotch. D is a relatively hairy woman, and as far as I am concerned she can let all the hair grow. Her ass, with black hairs creeping between her legs and up her ass-cheeks, is extremely sexy to me. So too is the fine down that covers much of her body.

F, a little more reluctantly, has also been letting the hair grow under her arms. C tends to be lazy about shaving her armpits once the weather is cooler. So right now I am enjoying three different women au naturel, though both D and and F are more willing than C to heighten the sex-appeal by forgoing deodorant. Going down on D's armpit while fucking her can trigger orgasm for her, and for me the smell of her sweat is extremely exciting and arousing. For F there is less of an erotic charge, and so there is less in it for me as well. With C, who is really just being lazy, it is only mildly erotic.



I was never much of a fan of Julia Roberts until the photograph above made the rounds, typically with a fair amount of 'Yuck!' as accompaniment. Since then, I confess, I have jerked off looking at the picture a few times. Such is the erotic power of armpit hair. Would that power decline, if more women followed in Julia's footsteps? I don't think so. Thanks to Health and Efficiency, my predelictions are set. I wish all women were as Julia is (or was - for who knows whether she went home and shaved afterwards, vowing never to be caught out like that again).

Z to A

Z came to my office, with the expectation that I would put on some sort of show for her. I had no real idea what to expect, and all I knew about her was that she was 30something, of mixed race, and in a wheelchair. She turned out to be a woman of really exceptional beauty, and the 45 or 50 minutes that she spent in my office deserve a detailed description.

We began with me in my desk-chair, her close by in her wheelchair. I unzipped and began to stroke my cock, at this point quite soft. We talked, discussing circumcision, work, whatever. She asked about how I liked to touch myself and I did my best to show her. After a while I asked if she would like to touch me, and she took over for a while, her large, strong hand doing a good job with my foreskin. She was surprised about how much pressure I liked. We talked about her other office visits - she had scheduled at least one a day during the whole week, and I think she said I was the fourth man whose office she had visited in order to be entertained.

She then proposed that we move out towards the middle of the room to have a bit more space, and I took one pants leg off so I could spread my legs. Then I sat on the chair while she manouevred her wheelchair between my legs. This way she had a better view, as she pointed out, and also better access to my balls and ass. We then went back to stroking my cock, though I did most of that, while she stroked my legs, my ass, my hips, my chest and sides, and played a bit with my nipples. I felt extremely happy and not at all self-conscious, as this was clearly what she wanted to see and do, she felt - as far as I could tell - completely relaxed and safe, and we were both having a good time.

After a while longer, she decided to sit on the floor, placing one leg on either side of my chair so that she could move in very close to my crotch. She took off her shirt, and I had the wonderful surprise of finding out that she did not shave under her arms - something that I find very, very sexy indeed. So at that point I was completely taken with her! Also such perfect breasts, a magnificent neck and shoulders, smooth skin of a most seductive, rich colour. Things then got a little more reciprocal, as I felt along her neck, and her shoulders, pinched her nipples, stroked her arms, and we also finally kissed. I was very turned on and very close to coming as a result, but she was in no hurry, so we slowed down. For perhaps twenty minutes we went back and forth between these various delightful acts - me touching myself, her touching my cock, her working my balls and perineum, her stroking my chest, my shoulders, my face, I doing the same to her, kissing. She sat as close in as she could, her armpits on my thighs, her head close to my cock. It was extremely gentle, sensual, very pleasurable, relaxing and yet also highly exciting. When she asked if I was now ready to come, it took just a little while to bring myself off, and of course I did not ejaculate very much given the morning's activities with D, so that may have disappointed her.

Afterwards she lay back on the floor and rested, and we talked for a little while, and then she hauled herself back into her wheelchair, and left. I asked if I was ever to see her again and she said 'No'. So that was that - but I have been thinking of her almost continuously ever since. And she did, very kindly, send me a picture of herself later on, showing much of what I had seen in my office - her breasts, her neck, her hair, her delicately cupped ear, one of those highly erotic armpits.

Today, A, for around two hours in a midtown hotel. Again, kissing led straight to fucking, and this time I never got to go down on her at all. We fucked for a long, long time, she also fingered herself to orgasm while I was fucking her, and then finally I climbed off and she went down on me for a while. Dry orgasms resulted from that, and then she sat on my cock and very rapidly made me come, which seemed to send her into a series of contractions, and her whole cunt was so amazingly tight and wet and alive I stayed very hard while she carried on using me for her pleasure. It was great. But finally she tired and I softened, and so we lay and chatted post-coitally until it was time to shower and leave.

A and Z - opposites in very many ways, but both extremely sexy. I am also extremely lucky to have been able to be with them yesterday and today.