Nudity is For The Birds

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“Hmm.” Jay’s gears were turning, coming up empty. Another couple walked by. The tall man had long brown hair, carefully brushed and blown-dried back from his face. The woman was pretty but very slim, almost without curves. Her hair was a flowing mass of thick dreadlocks and a small dark tangle poked out from under her arms.

“The Tufted Tit.” He pronounced it definitely, like the narrator of a zoology film announcing an important development.

“The Tufted Tit? Her tits are the one place I’m not seeing any unusual tufting.”

“Exactly. This one has a backstory.”

“Pray go on, professor.” The laughter behind her words encouraged and delighted him.

“The man with the flowing locks is obviously an expert on hair, perhaps a cosmetologist by training.”

“Obviously.”

“When the two met, the poor girl was charmed by the man, but horrified to get…intimate with him because of her dark secret.”

“And what, sir, was this dark secret?”

“She was extremely sensitive to the fact that her breasts were not only quite small, but they each spotted several dark hairs growing near the nipple. She had never let anyone see them, and had been sadly misinformed by the old wive’s tale that hair, once removed, grows back thicker and darker.”

“That’s not true?” Robin seemed genuinely surprised.

“Not at all. Now, a shaved hair will have a blunt end that may appear darker and thicker when it grows back, but that affects only the appearance of the end. A hair tweezed out will grow back with a finer end, and generally no darker than the one it replaced. In fact, if enough hairs are pulled from a given follicle, it can lose its ability to produce more, the last few growing increasingly wispy.”

“I had no idea.”

“Neither did she. As the relationship progressed, hair-guy’s frustration increased at his inability to get to second base. Finally she relented and confessed her fears, electing to trust his obviously evolved sensibilities. He calmly observed her minor hirsutism when she finally, shyly slipped her top off after a lovely dinner and a bottle or two of wine.”

“Hirsutism. Nice word.”

“Thank you.” Jay acknowledged the compliment without losing the flow of his story. “After rectifying her opinion of hair removal, hair-guy offered his professional services, free of charge.”

“What a guy. All that hair, and a philanthropist too.”

“Years of pent up tension left her a bundle of nerves as he leaned over her, tweezers at the ready. Her nervousness and imagination magnified the slight pain of the first hair being expertly yanked out, roots and all. Without thought, at her yelp of pain, hair-guy distracted her by locking his lips on her overwhelmed nipple, sucking at the sensitive point while his tongue flicked over it, driving all thought of the transitive pain from her.

“Taken by surprise, the tension released in a way neither could have anticipated. The expectation of pain, the sudden sharp sensation in such a vulnerable area, and his mouth’s intimate distraction combined to set off the most mind-blowing orgasm she had yet experienced.”

Robin’s hands were gripping his own now and Jay could see a noticeable increase in the movement of her chest as her breaths became more rapid.

“They repeated the process with the remaining hairs, with similar ecstatic results. To this day, they allow the hairs to regrow enough to relive the pain/tension/release cycle that has been such a key part of their sex life ever since. Hence, the Tufted Tit.”

“Wow.” Robin’s voice almost husky. “I didn’t expect that.”

She twisted in his arms, his hard-on dragging across her bare lower back to press into her hip. When she kissed him her lips were eager and hungry, her tongue seeking out his. The position brought one of his hands to her round bottom and he heard no complaints as he squeezed her soft flesh. Instead, he felt it move under his grip, pushing toward him a slow repeated rhythm.

“That was really hot.” Her lips brushed against his when they separated enough for speech. She twisted back to face away from him, nestled together as close as they could. Neither commented on the wet trail they both felt the tip of his erection draw from her hip to her spine. “My turn.”

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