One of the things that has been interesting in my BDSM exploration has been the reaction I have had to my refusal to shave my pubic hair. I wax regularly, trim as needed, and maintain the wilderness, which it once was during my marriage! Yet reactions to my bush have been like Marmite: my hair is either loved or hated.

I like hair. On a man or a woman. It’s natural. Animalistic you might say. Like the noises I make during really mind-blowing sex. I waxed all my pubic hair once a long time ago and it reminded me of a pre-pubescent teenager. To me my hair is one sign I am a woman. As natural and sexy as my breasts.

New Man said it was the one thing he would change about me and it felt like the bottom had fallen out of my world. I haven’t written much lately and while I have been away I have been falling in love with him. After a slow start, I feel like I have unleashed the dragon. Or as he likes to say the Tyrannosaur! He is growing into his Dominant role incredibly well. He bought me a spreader bar (see photo above) and spent one wonderful evening fucking me in all three of my holes at once (with the help of toys) resulting in that orgasmic outer space feeling that takes hours of delicious floating to come down from. A feeling I had almost forgotten …

We talk a lot about our mutual group sex fantasies. He wants to watch multiple men fuck me at the same time. It makes me weak hearing him talk about it. I am in no doubt he will make it happen. I just have to say yes.

And that’s the strange thing about fantasies isn’t it? I have written so many stories about being fucked by more than one man. About being used like a dirty whore. Licked and touched and teased by women too. Watched by everyone. And here is a man who can and will make it all true. And I am petrified and excited and excited and petrified …

Will he take care of me? Physically and emotionally? I believe he will but the bond between us is still fragile and weak. It needs strengthening. And I feel like I continually test it through fear, wondering if I will be able to break it. But I don’t break it. He stands strong against me. And my love for him seems to grow by the moment. I am not used to this. Petrified and excited and excited and petrified. But my heart keeps telling me one thing …

Let it grow.

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