by Vivi King
My glass was refilled as I began to trim my bikini line. It wasn’t strictly necessary but, now that my
husband wasn’t the only one to see my private places, I had started to pay a lot more attention to my appearance ‘down there’.
I trimmed the wilder hairs at the base and edges of my triangle with a narrow-bladed razor. Then I trimmed around the sides and in the creases at the top of my inner thighs, the intention being to reduce the dark, curly triangle to a fashionable wide vertical band – an ‘airstrip’ as my women’s’ magazines had called it.
I didn’t like the look of my first attempt, so tried again, making the strip a little narrower. That still looked wrong so I finished my second glass of prosecco and tried again. It was awkward getting the right angle in the bath, especially when shaving my left side with my right hand and the result was lopsided. I tried again without real success; the amount of hair remaining was getting smaller but no neater and no more attractive. I was beginning to feel frustrated.
Then something came over me. Maybe I was already a little tipsy, maybe I was just clumsy; I’ll never know for sure but before I could stop myself I found I had deliberately shaved off almost all the remaining pubic hair on my left hand side!
I had never, ever done this before and really couldn’t understand how it had happened. Having started, of course I couldn’t leave myself with pubic hair on only half my vulva so I had no alternative but to carry on and shave off all the rest, giving myself a homemade Hollywood for the first time in my life!
I lay back in the water, my eyes wide in surprise. What on earth had I done? I sat up and stared between my open thighs. There was no doubt about it; for the first time since puberty, I had no pubic hair. A shiver of shock mixed with an extraordinary amount of arousal rippled through me.
At fifty-one years old, married with three grown up children, I had just acquired my first ever fully- shaven ‘pussy’!
I had always hated that word; it’s always seemed rather slutty and, I must confess, a bit too teenage American for my taste, but to my amazement, once my middle-class, middle-aged English vulva was devoid of all hair, the word ‘pussy’ seemed to describe it perfectly.
I ran my hand over my mound. It wasn’t quite as hairless as I had thought; there were a good few stray patches and more than a little stubble but having got this far, I really had to finish the job. Steeling myself and in constant fear of cutting my most sensitive parts, I set to work.
I have to say that shaving properly was much more fiddly than I had expected; my pubic hair grew in
every direction. Finding all the stray hairs and dealing with unexpected stubble was quite literally a pain – I nicked myself more than once but having gone so far I really had to see it through.
Fortunately I’ve never been very a hairy person ‘down there’ or I might have missed the ball. As it was, the water was distinctly cool by the time I got out of the bath but by then I was smooth as smooth can be – as well as a bit shocked and bewildered.
I smothered my newly-bare and worryingly pink vulva with Pete’s after-shave moisturizing lotion; thanking God he used the un-perfumed kind for sensitive skin. Then I stood in front of the mirror and inspected my new self.
Wow!
To my delight, despite the stretch-lines and wrinkles a woman my age cannot avoid, my newly- hairless vulva really did make my naked body look younger. And looking younger made me feel younger too. A surge of excitement rushed through me as I wondered what sex would be like with no grey-brown curly hairs to get in the way.
And as for oral sex... My God, I couldn’t wait!
I dressed carefully and self-consciously high heels and my LBD, its shortness bringing a new meaning to the word ‘Little’ and making black tights rather than stockings a necessity. Although the event was called a ball, the era of ball gowns was long past. Cocktail dresses were now the norm for these events which was a considerable relief. As a girl, I had been to a few balls arranged by my father’s business. The heat and discomfort generated by my bulky dress had made the occasions a nightmare.
This dress was so short that over-heating would be highly unlikely.
Pete of course wore his ‘black tie’ evening suit. Though in theory this meant all the men would look the same and the women would be showcased, in practice the plain black suits made a man’s physical build and personal poise even more noticeable.
I have to say that on those grounds, Pete looked amazing. His suit had been tailor-made prior to my affair and fitted him perfectly. Since it had started both Pete and I had spent much more time at the gym resulting in a dress size fall for me and a much more impressive physique for my husband.
What he would think of my first ever shaved ‘pussy’ I could only guess but as he wasn’t in the bedroom when I donned my knickers, he didn’t get to see my new bareness.
To add to the feeling of sexiness I wore a pair of my new Christmas panties; a black thong with a microscopic front to avoid VPL’s under my tight fitting clothes and of course I wore my bracelet again with its increasing number of charms.
As I brushed my hair one last time, I felt very anxious. I was pretty sure both Pete and Tony would love my new hairless body but I wasn’t completely certain. Still, it was another expression of my new Hotwife status which was what my husband at least had said he wanted. And it certainly marked the start of a New Me in a New Year.
By the time Pete returned to the bedroom I was almost ready. He stared at me open-mouthed.
“Penny. You look... amazing!” he gasped.
I positively glowed with pleasure at this obviously genuine compliment.
“You’re pretty fit yourself,” I said in return.
That was certainly true. Dissatisfaction with my handsome husband’s appearance had played no part at all in my cheating on him. As usual, Pete looked gorgeous; slim, athletic, sexy and for a moment I felt surprised it was me and not him that had been the first to stray from the life monogamous.
As I took his arm and he escorted me proudly to our taxi, I briefly wondered if I would have been able to live as easily with an unfaithful husband as he could live with an unfaithful wife.
It’s unfair and unreasonable I know, but right then I didn’t want to ever have to find out.
***
I’m pleased to say that the whole New Year Event was great. The food was good, the music great and the company simply first class.
Our friends are always good fun to be with and there was quite a lot of flirting going on all night. I was very pleased about this, partly because flirting always makes me feel attractive but also because I kept asking myself what they would all say if they knew how my life had changed; if they knew what we were really up to behind closed doors.
The only drawback was my dress. It might have been the occasion, it might have been the increased awareness and sensitivity ‘down there’ that my newly shaven pussy was bringing; it might have been
that the dress kept riding up my thighs or even that it was simply too short, but for the hour before we sat down to eat I kept having to tug it down my legs to keep my tights and knickers concealed.
This made me feel very uncomfortable but kept my husband amused.
My bracelet with its hidden meaning was a success again and kept jangling all evening. The secret it contained made me feel sexy and mysterious; from time to time Pete and I would exchange glances and share conspiratorial smiles. Several of my friends noticed it on my wrist. Most thought it looked a bit bare and would look a lot better with more charms!
It took all my self-control not to giggle as I told them I was working on that!
Even before my infidelities began, Pete had always liked watching me flirt with other men but of course there was a much greater ‘edge’ to it that night. I found it fun too but this time, as I exchanged light-hearted, semi-innocent banter with our male friends, I found myself wondering which of them actually did want to bed me for real and which were just playing the game.
/> And of course, I asked myself which, if any of the men I would consider allowing to take me to bed me. I was sure that my husband was having the same thoughts if the expression on his handsome face was any guide.
To my relief and to their considerable credit, the possibly disastrous problem of my husband and my lover meeting passed without incident. Tony wasn’t sitting on our table which helped ease us into the potential minefield, but in fact once again both men behaved impeccably by making sure they never came close to each other.
In other circumstances it might have been amusing to watch the way in which the two men moved around the tables and the room, taking different routes to the bar and ensuring they were never at the same end of the dance floor. Although their avoidance measures seemed mutual, I did think Tony was taking extra care to keep out of Pete’s way.
Not wanting to make life any more difficult, I had avoided having any more than the lightest and shortest of conversations with my lover in public and up to ten-thirty hadn’t danced with him at all, even in a group. I was feeling relieved that nothing untoward had happened and was celebrating that relief with a fifth glass of champagne before taking my place on the dance floor again when I heard a familiar voice close by.
“You are allowed to dance with him, Penn,” my husband whispered, sidling up to me and nodding towards Tony on the dance floor.
“I thought it would be better not to,” I replied. “I don’t want to start any gossip.”
“The gossip’s already started,” he told me. “Sally and Claire have both asked me what’s wrong and wondered if the two of you fallen out?”
“Oh God! I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Think about it now, Penn. We’ve have been close friends with them for so long, if these two busybodies think we’ve had a fall-out they won’t stop ferreting until they’ve found a reason. And we sure and Hell don’t want that, do we?”
“So what can we do?”
“Dance with him Penny!” Pete’s voice was exasperated. “Just dance with him like you used to. Make sure you don’t get over-friendly and give it all away but avoiding him like this is asking for trouble.”
“What about you? You’re avoiding him too.”
“That’s not the same. Everyone knows that at a do like this Tony will be with the girls not hanging round the bar with the rest of us. Besides everyone’s looking at you tonight, not me.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean everyone – male and female - can’t keep their eyes off you; that dress is so short and so tight. You look amazing!”
“It’s not too short is it?” I asked in horror.
“It’s perfect and you look perfect,” he replied. “Now go and dance with him before someone starts a rumor.”
“You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“For God’s sake, Penny. Dance!”
I made my way back to the dance floor and began gyrating with my girlfriends at the edge of the floor before gradually and, I hoped, inconspicuously moving through the crowd towards where Tony was dancing with a small group of our mutual friends, mostly female.
The look of sheer pleasure on his face when I joined the group was heart and vulva-warming. A song or two later he and I had separated from the group and were dancing together in the furthest, least visible corner of the floor.
“I’ve missed you, Penny,” he said in a soft a voice as the loud music would allow.
“It’s only two days since we last...” I began then stopped.
“I know,” he grinned. “My bed still smells of you, and I can still taste you.”
There was something unhygienic about this, but it certainly turned me on as we danced.
“Couldn’t we slip away for a while?” he continued a few minutes later.
“It’s too risky,” I said though I would have loved to feel him inside me again. “And what would Pete do?”
“You’re right,” he agreed, pulling a disappointed face.
For the next half hour I danced with Tony as my husband had insisted and as I desperately wanted, getting hotter both outside and inside as our bodies ‘accidentally’ brushed up against each other. It was not how a married woman should have with danced in public with another man but the floor was so crowded I don’t think anyone noticed. At least I hoped they hadn’t.
Half an hour before midnight Tony and I even enjoyed a slow dance in the furthest corner of the floor, our bodies pressed close together in full public view. The public wasn’t interested but it was still irresponsibly risky, rubbing together surrounded by our friends. It felt wonderful being in the strong arms of my tall, dominant lover. I closed my eyes and leaned against his chest as memories of all we had done over the last two months passed through my mind. As his hands risked a brief journey to my buttocks and he pressed my body against his I could clearly feel his short, thick erection pressing against my tummy.
The memory of what that organ had done to me and still could do filled my rather tipsy mind. I could feel myself lubricating freely despite being surrounded by revelers and it was with the greatest of reluctance that I eventually parted from him with a discreet peck on the cheek and returned to our table where my husband and friends were waiting.
As I approached, Pete broke off from the small group he was talking with, poured a long glass of
water and greeted me with it. The heat in the room was stifling; I thanked him and took a long sip.
“Was that better?” I asked with a smile, nodding to the dance floor. “No-one will think we’ve fallen out now.”
Pete grinned.
“That’s certainly true.”
We stood and watched the dancing for a few minutes, me sipping my water, Pete with a glass of red wine.
“Do you two need some private time?”
His voice was low and calm. I turned towards him, wondering if I had misheard with all the noise.
“Sorry?” I said, leaning closer towards my husband.
Pete inclined his head, nodded in the general direction Tony had gone and whispered in my ear.
“It’s nearly midnight. Once we’ve all heard the chimes, I’m going to have a drink in the bar. Our taxi is due at one o’clock. If you’re very, very discreet, I don’t need to see you until then.”
“Are you serious?” I asked, amazed.
“Don’t you want to?” he asked.
I thought for a moment though the answer was obvious.
“It would be very nice, but only if you’re really sure,” I told him, almost unable to believe the conversation that was taking place. “I don’t know where we could go though.”
“That’s your problem,” Pete smiled. “Just make sure you’re discreet and don’t take too long!”
“When should we go!? Now?”
“Not now. Wait until straight after midnight. There’ll be so much chaos no-one will notice you’re both missing; we’ll all be kissing strangers and shaking hands”.
My tummy filled with butterflies.
“And you’re sure you really wouldn’t mind?” I asked, double-checking through disbelief.
“Let’s start the year as we mean to go on,” he said ruefully. “I thought it might happen. I’m ready for it.”
“Do you think he’ll want to?”
Pete just gave me a don’t-be-so-stupid look.
“You’re amazing,” I told him honestly. “We’ll be discreet, I promise.”
“I know you will,” Pete told me. “But you’ve got to be back by one.”
“I could get a taxi,” I said quietly.
“No, I’ll wait here for you,” he replied. “You can’t risk staying out all night. You might meet our errant daughter sneaking back home for breakfast, still drunk. That would be hard to explain.”
“Okay,” I agreed readily.
“Usual rules?”
He was referring of course to the conditions we had agreed when Pete had first found out about my infidelity and had accepted its continuing; that I should return home wi
thout cleaning myself up, must give him as much access to my used body as he wanted and must answer honestly any question he asked, however detailed and personal it might be.
“Of course,” I agreed. “Pete?”
“Yes?”
“You’re amazing. I love you so much.”
He smiled and turned away, leaving me stunned and in disbelief but very aroused.
I returned to the dance floor and our friends where, a short while later the band began the musical run-up to midnight. A short while after that the broadcast chimes of Big Ben rang through the room
followed by and the traditional opening bars of Auld Lang Syne and some of the worst, most out-of- tune singing the country has ever known.
I kissed and hugged both friends and strangers, wishing the world Good Luck. I’m sure that several of our other male friends groped my easily-accessible bottom when we were all kissing but I didn’t object; it made me feel sexy and alive rather than affronted. Knowing my husband was watching all this happen made me feel really naughty too but I made sure I did nothing to embarrass him.
Pete was still watching surreptitiously as Tony approached for his Good Luck Grope. As our mouths approached each other and his hands fell to my buttocks I whispered Pete’s proposition in his ear. The way Tony’s fingers dug into my bottom gave me all the answer I needed.
“Where could we go?” I whispered. He thought for a moment.
“My friends have a room. They’re staying over. Maybe I can get the key for a while.”
“You won’t tell them why?” I asked horrified.
“Of course not. I’ll tell them I’m drunk and need a lie down.”
“What if they walk in on us?”
“No chance of that. They’ll be dancing and drinking till dawn! Wait there!”
Tony disappeared into the melee for a couple of minutes then returned from a different direction, patting his hip pocket.
“Success!” he grinned. “I can’t wait. Come on!”
