Mommy, Why Does That Girl Have a Dirty Pussy?, Chapter 2

by S. J.

As I removed my clothes, I thought about all the times I have showed young girls my pussy, intentionally and sometimes “accidentally.” There wasn’t an ounce of inhibition in my body, even at 27 years of age. I had always been proud of it, even before I grew hair.

There was no hesitancy with an 11-year-old young girl and certainly no hesitancy with my brother’s daughter.

Proud, especially of my pussy, as that was where I had the most mysterious of sensations, to my touch and to that of others. Although it was my entire mound and pussy that was sensitive as a young girl, only as I got older did my feelings concentrate entirely in my clitoris. I was always into pleasure, despite my conservative religious upbringing, from touching myself to humping objects to being touched. As long as I can remember, I was wanting to show other girls.

When I offered, any girl who showed me the slightest desire got a look, including spread legs. There were times when I was disappointed with disinterest, but on those glorious occasions when a girl (or on a rare occasion a woman) wanted to touch me or show me hers, I was ecstatic. On those many occasions when sex happened, my desires were completely fulfilled.

It amused me to think that I had been showing off my body for over 20 years. That I had been sexual with girls for that length of time. That I had been aware of my body for even longer.

I sat Deanna on the side of the tub, while I stood in front of her, facing the late evening sunlight coming through the bathroom window. I wanted her to have the clearest possible view of my thick, blond hair.

“See how much hair I have,” I said, as I finished completely undressing, removing my top.

“Yeah,” she replied, with a look of sheer amazement on her face. “You and mom are so different.”

I moved closer. She reached out for me. I knew immediately that we would soon end up in the bedroom where she would get an anatomy and sex lesson at the same time.

“You can touch me any way you like,” I told her, confident that she would. She pressed her hand against my hair.

“Do your girlfriends like you this way?” She has met several of my girlfriends over the last several years, so my lesbianism was nothing new to her.

“Yeah,” I told her, “I have only had one lover who wanted me to shave.”

“What did you do?” was her response. She continued to play with my hair, now touching me with both her hands.

“Will you spread your legs so I can see you while you look at me?” I asked. She didn’t answer. She readjusted her butt on the side of the tub, opening her legs. I had a perfect view looking down at her. Then I replied to her question about my girlfriend wanting me to shave. I told her I told the girl I didn’t shave. “End of story,” I said.

“So she stopped seeing you?”

“Yes.”

Were you sad?” she inquired, as she asked for more details. When she put pressure on my stomach with her hand, I felt my clit pulse.

“Yes, but my pussy is too pretty to change how it looks,” I replied, confident that she would learn something from me about her own appearance. This was in spite of her having a mother who shaved.

I was enjoying the turn in the conversation to my sexuality.

‘What do you look like inside?” she asked. I knew precisely what she meant.

“First, look at how long my hairs are,” I encouraged. I took her right hand in mine, turned her palm up, and ran her fingers up through the hair. That action uncurled the hair, extending the length between her fingers. I repeated the motion several times, then released her hand. She continued with both her hands.

“Wow, they are long,” she explained.

I looked, passed my own pussy, to hers. Her mound was completely void of hair. She was quite unique, I was thinking, perhaps the most unique pussy I had ever seen. But then I had viewed many unique ones. Hers, however, had the most interesting hair pattern of any. Other girls had clits and labia that stood out, of course, literally and figuratively. But for a girl her age to be blessed with thick fur on her labia, I was more than fascinated.

“You can explore me inside, any way you wish,” giving her permission to do what she wanted. I spread my legs more.