My life was running smoothly. I had graduated from college with a good enough degree in electronics engineering to get an interesting job that had prospects. I earned enough money to afford the rent on a small flat and to run a car. My social life was busy and I had a deepening relationship with my girlfriend of just over a year, Sarah. She was a civil servant working in a fairly uninteresting government department. We had met at college but not really got together until we left. We had moved in vaguely overlapping social circles but, if I am being honest, I always thought she was a bit too conservative, even verging on the frigid. We met again at a party hosted by a mutual friend and, with the assistance of copious quantities of wine, we ended up kissing passionately in the garden. I tried to go further but after drunkenly groping her tits I struggled to move my hand up her skirt and into her knickers. She was certainly not underdressed with tights and a large pair of French knickers. I was just about to move down from the top of her waistband when I encountered a thick mat of pubic hair. I allowed my fingers to play with it a bit before moving further in but Sarah made it clear that that was not going to happen however drunk she was. I acquiesced and withdrew my hand back through the forest but was grateful that she allowed a bit more groping. As I felt her crotch through her tights it was obvious that she was dripping wet.
I woke up alone and with a thunderous hangover but I could still smell her on my fingers. We had parted with a passionate kiss and exchanged telephone numbers. As I lay in bed waiting for the painkillers to take effect, I reflected on the evening. Sarah was unconventional but she had classic beauty. She had a good figure with a shapely bottom, thin waist and large breasts that were kept in gravity defying shape by an impressively engineered bra. Her blonde highlighted hair was swept back from her forehead in a bouffant wave that fell to her shoulders and then curled up and out. Sometimes it was held in place with an Alice band but more often with large quantities of hair spray. Her face was always immaculately made up with full foundation and a subtle dusting of powder. She was hardly ever seen out with bare legs preferring to wear tights and stockings. Her clothes were definitely not those of young fashion conscious girls but were the well made skirts and blouses favoured by their mothers . However, I was to explore further. In my imagination she had raw sexuality that was added to by that lush expanse of hair that I discovered on her ample mound. As my penis began to rouse, I resolved to take affirmative action. Ignoring the pain in my head and a slight wave of nausea, I got up and found her telephone number.
I showered and washed my shoulder length hair before dressing in jeans, a tee shirt and a jacket. It was what I liked to describe as my smart casual look although, apart from my work suits, it was pretty much all I had in my wardrobe. Sarah had seemed pleased to get my call and had even apologised for being so forward at the party. I did not feel the need to tell her that I wanted to be much more forward. We had arranged to meet during the week for a drink and I was strangely nervous as I donned my trainers and checked the overall effect in the mirror.
If Sarah thought I was under-dressed she did not say so. As ever, she was immaculately turned out and I assumed that she had come straight from work. She was wearing a tight knee length pencil skirt with a plain satin blouse that emphasised the shape of her breasts. The make up was subtly different with darker sultry eye shadow but her hair was stiffly held place with a recent spray of hair lacquer. We got on well, although it was obvious that we were completely different. She had been Head Girl of her school, captain of hockey, an accomplished horsewoman, regular churchgoer and breezed through her exams to get to university. I had spent my youth intensively training to become a couch potato, studiously avoiding physical exercise apart from the odd kickabout with mates and intensive sessions on PlayStation. Instead I had worked on my drinking, smoking and porn addiction, and only just scraped by academically to get into college. She laughed at my stories of childhood rebellion and misbehaviour. I loved that laugh. It was like the tinkling of a musical instrument and encouraged me to more outrageous confessions. She was particularly enthralled by my tales of trying to avoid the school hair rules. My school had strict rules about hair length and I was frequently caught trying to evade them by using hairpins and spray to curl my hair off my collar and behind my ears. Being caught meant an immediate written injunction to visit the barber. This was known as a haircut chit. Failure act on this injunction would result in a caning, followed by a forced march to the barbershop in town and a drastic haircut. Sarah looked horrified.
"Did you ever get caned?" she asked with a concerned frown.
"Rather too many times," I replied with a pained wince. "It didn't do much good though," I continued as I ran my hand through my lustrous locks.
She giggled again and then said with a frown "Yes, I had noticed."
We left after a couple of drinks and I offered Sarah a lift home. It was not late but we both had work in the morning. However, I was pleased to be invited in for coffee and even more pleased to find that Sarah lived alone in a small flat that her parents had bought her. It was, as I could have guessed, very neat and tidy. There was a framed photo on a shelf of a middle-aged couple who must have been her parents. The woman was an older version of Sarah but with much shorter greying hair that had been permed on the top and shaved short at the sides. The man was tall with a distinct military bearing. Sarah returned from the kitchen with coffee and said quite unexpectedly, "Right, let's drink this first and pick up where we left off in the garden. By the way, I never shag on a first date but you can see my bush and tits if you like."
I was dumbstruck and floundered for a reply.
"Oh dear," Sarah continued placing her hand to her mouth, "have I been too forward. I'm sorry. I take after mummy. She always says that women should speak their minds."
I recovered my composure and said, "No not at all. Your Mother is absolutely right. I was just thinking that perhaps we could skip the coffee."
We kissed and I placed my hand on her breasts. Even through the blouse and the heavy bra material I could feel her nipples swelling. We fell onto the sofa and I pushed my other hand up her skirt. This time she was wearing stockings and a suspender belt. I ran my fingers over her loose cotton pants and felt the familiar wetness. Sarah moaned and pushed her hips upwards to meet my hand. My fingers sought the outer edge of the pants which was below the top of her thigh. Again, I encountered a forest of pubic hair. I pushed my hand in and up across the furry wetness. Sarah writhed and moaned again as I gently prised her thick labial lips apart. She broke off and said that we should undress. My penis was rock hard and twitched as she ran a well-manicured nail over the tip.
I removed her pants and skirt and buried my face in her hairy mound. It was heavenly. I savoured the rich aroma and pushed my tongue into the wet slit as I began to explore. I had only just reached the top and was beginning to circle her clitoris when she tensed and began to tremble with a low throaty groan. Her lips parted and allowed a trickle of slightly sticky liquid to flow out. Much to my embarrassment, I lost control and spurted a spray of spunk onto the sofa. She did not notice. Her orgasm seemed to last for several minutes but eventually she went still and I raised my wet face and moved up to kiss her. We broke off quickly so that I could remove a four inch long pubic hair from my mouth.
"Oh dear," she giggled, "it looks like I need a trip to the barbers. I don't want to get caned."
"No! You mustn't" I exclaimed. "I love your hairy bush."
Sarah was true to her word and we did not shag that night. She did suck my still hard cock clean and I helped her clean up the messy puddle of spunk on the sofa. Eventually, I gave her a long kiss, dressed and left. As I turned back to say a final goodbye, I noted that she still looked perfectly groomed with not a hair out of place either on her head or on her cunt.
I struggled to focus at work for the next few days. I had arranged to meet Sarah again on Saturday. She said I could meet her after she had finished at the hairdressers in the afternoon and we could then go to see a film followed by dinner.
Having spent Saturday morning doing chores and shopping, In the afternoon got ready to go out and meet Sarah. I noticed that my hair was now well over my collar and ears. I had considered getting it trimmed whilst in town but I rejected the idea and proceeded to brush and blow dry my lustrous mane. I had allowed a bit of stubble to grow on my face and, with jeans and a tee shirt, I thought I looked pretty cool. On second thoughts, maybe I should have shaved and bought some new clothes. Never mind, it was too late now. Sarah came out of the hair salon at six thirty. She looked as stunning as ever in her slightly old-fashioned way. I went to kiss her on the lips but she turned her cheek and I could see that she had just had her make-up done. She raised a newly manicured hand to remove her headscarf and said, "What do you think."
"Looks great," I said. In fact it looked much the same except it was slightly more bouffant and perhaps a fraction of an inch shorter. It was obviously heavily doused in hair spray.
