Gorilla Girl

Nothing compares to the paradise of smooth skin touching smooth skin, especially when the skin is sloshy wet with arousal, sweat, cum, g-spot ejaculate, spit, piss, lube or what have you. That hot, warm, slippery, sliding, dissolves boundaries and makes you both feel like you are fucking with your whole body, and you are. So, to shave or not to shave? One strong vote for shave: pubic patch, around labia lips, cock, balls, and around the asshole. Then fuck hard and wet, add lube, go deep, drip, squirt, spurt, gush, spray, soak, mark, fill, overfill, and gulp your partner's wetness to your heart's delight.

But wait, sometimes "hairy" opens whole worlds of pleasures. Hair holds and intensifies scent, and if you are scent-driven like me, each different smell of the person you adore is a bit of paradise unto itself. Whitman's "smell of these armpits / aroma finer than prayer" makes deep and lovely sense, and even better sense the hairier she or he is. Even now I can close my eyes and remember Julie's different scents. And it helped a lot that she was also the hairiest girl I have ever known, or ever am likely to know.

Julie was sitting in a bookstore café, pouring over an oversized book on the artist Edward Hopper. Though it was a blazing hot day that had most of us wearing the absolute minimum, she was wearing long pants, closed-toe shoes, and a long-sleeved buttoned-down shirt fastened high on her neck and tight around her wrists. She wore oversized dark glasses too, which seemed a bit odd in a café, and even odder considering she was reading an art book.

Julie was so covered up by clothing and glasses I couldn't get much fix on her appearance. Except that is, for beautifully full lips and a quite lovely, if distinctively pronounced aquiline nose. She was on the tall side and trim. But aside from that and her apparent great taste in art she was pretty much a blank.

I was newly single and actively looking for a partner. Since Hopper was one of my favorite painters, and she had caught and held my interest, I was tempted to talk with her. But looking closer at her she radiated a bit of a "do not approach me vibe" which squelched that idea. I settled, quite content, into my own reading, a new biography of the poet Anne Sexton.

Sexton had been complex and troubled but she was fiercely honest in her writing and the biography was drawing me in pretty deeply. I was startled to hear "Sexton's my favorite poet" spoken by the woman I had been looking at earlier. She now stood just inches from my table looking down at me. I looked up at her. She removed her glasses revealing expressive and striking pale blue eyes and an angular face. I was excited that she liked Sexton and without her dark glasses felt instantly drawn to her. My glance played over the thin layer of peach fuzz covering much of her face and the thicker hair near her lips. There was a bit of irritation wherever the hair was thicker as if she were constantly trying to pluck it away. Curious.

I asked her if she would like to sit down and to my excitement and joy she said yes. We talked for quite a while about Sexton and then we talked about Hopper and I found myself utterly smitten by her enthusiasm and insight about the painter. Conversation flowed easily back and forth between us and I found myself drifting a bit into the sea-blue intensity of her lovely eyes. It turned out we had a lot in common and when after an hour she looked at her watch and said she had to go it felt perfectly natural to exchange numbers.

That night I called her around nine and it was dawn when we finally hung up after agreeing to meet at the bookstore again after we had both slept a bit. She was already there when I arrived and it felt like a kind of homecoming to sit facing her. This time, both our hands when out across the table to grasp one another. Touching hands that way felt amazing.

She was again dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and long pants. Looking at her this time the hair around her mouth was gone but in its place the skin was chaffed and red and even a bit inflamed. I hadn't meant to stare but she caught me anyway and looked back at me with slightly sad and perhaps worried eyes. I didn't understand.

I watched her bow her head just a little and then swallow hard. Then she raised her head and looked directly into my eyes. In a clear, determined, even resolute voice she slowly said:

"I have a condition. Its technical name is "hypertrichosis" which is basically an extreme form of hirsutism. In other word's I have a LOT of body hair. It grows fast and thick and over pretty much all of me."

She paused looking for a reaction and I guess she felt reassured because she soon continued.

"I'm mostly ok with it, well sort of. But it is hell on my face. My skin is too sensitive for chemical depilatories and if I don't constantly pluck, well, you can imagine."

"I am so relieved," I replied, my face breaking into a warm smile.

"When you said you had a condition I flashed on a flurry of ailments that could impact your health. You are ok. That's what matters."

"Well, I'm almost ok" she began again slowly.

"it is a pain because I don't look anything like other women. It's pretty extreme. Most people with my condition constantly fight it with all sorts of hair removal. When I try that route my skin, which is quite sensitive, goes to hell. And body scent tends to cling to hair so I have to go a bit crazy with deodorants.

I looked at Julie. The pale blue of her eyes felt oceanic and inviting. I glanced at the chaffed skin where she had clearly plucked hairs before coming to meet me. I looked at the buttons on her cuffs and thought how she hid her arms every day. I looked at the how high she buttoned her shirt and glanced at her close-toed shoes.

Looking again at her eyes I said slowly and softly "Julie, I think you are quite beautiful"

"Thank you." She replied as she met my gaze.

"I'm going to tell you something I really have no right to say. But I want you to hear it." I Knew I was pretty far out on a limb here, but I felt it deeply and I wanted her to hear it.

"Julie, I've never in my life talked with anyone till dawn before. I think you are amazing. If I am, ever, lucky enough to see you completely naked your condition won't make a bit of difference to me. It wouldn't make you less beautiful if you were the hairiest woman on earth."

She sat still, her face a blank, and then slowly it broke into a smile which in turn broke into laughter. In a moment I was laughing too and we didn't stop for quite a while.

When our laughter trailed off she began describing how self-conscious her condition had made her. How to her shame she had been nicknamed "gorilla girl" in grade-school. How she always wore cover-up clothes, even on the hottest days. How she was obsessive about deodorant. And how, in the few intimate relationships she had experienced, she always made sure she was freshly showered and that the room was completely dark before she undressed.

I felt a deep sympathy for every hardship Julie described. But to be honest, sitting there, looking at her while she spoke I found myself getting incredibly aroused by the specific details of almost everything she said.

Her talk about scent made me imagine the thick bush of her armpits on the hottest of days. I wouldn't want her to use deodorant I thought as I looked into her eyes. Rather, I would sink my face and mouth deep into that fragrant forest, inhaling and sucking in every bit of her scent and wetness.

"Gorilla girl," now that was cruel of them and must have stung horribly. But at the same time the image Julie as gorilla girl made me hot. She was beautiful inside and out. I was so tired of sex being tidy, tame, polite, vanilla and domestic. As she spoke that name I felt acutely the sting of her early ridicule. But at the same time the raw, feral, rutting, beastly side of "gorilla girl" made my insides quake with hunger.

Our talk drifted to other things and when the subject of photography came up I couldn't believe the common ground of our tastes. We talked about the partnership of Lee Miller and Man Ray in 1930 when they were lovers and colleagues, and of the astonishing results of that short entwining. On a hunch I asked her about the D/s photos they had produced together and Julie's eyes lit up with the pleasure of recognition, not of the photos, but of the beautiful impulses behind them. I stared back at her in response and knew, she knew, I knew what that recognition meant. This time it was both of us who were squirming a bit.

Then, for a moment, Julie sat very still in silence pondering something. Just as she had an hour before, she dropped her head down a bit and then, looking up with slow deliberation, asked me a question that sent a wave of warmth throughout my body.

"If you were to photograph me, how would you do it, given that I am very shy about my body hair?"

I knew at once the answer but it took a moment to find the words.

"You could get dolled up and shoot a traditional glamour shot with soft-lighting and soft-focus and be beautiful just like millions of others in that conventional playboy, or boudoir-photography way. But that's not how I would photograph you at all. Julie, I could be happy staring at your face all day. The expressiveness of your oceanic eyes, your strong aquiline nose and gorgeous lips would make a head-shot that would make men and women stare in longing.

She looked at me puzzled. Maybe even a with a flash of hurt, but I continued.

"Julie, I would put you in a room with such a bright wall of lighting there would not be a single shadow to hide behind. I would photograph you with a long enough lens that every inch of you came equally into the frame. I would shoot you in such high-resolution and razor-sharp focus you could see every contour and curve and variation of your skin tone. And you could see every single hair too, right down to the root. I would find your beauty and capture it."

Julie just stared at me for a long, long, time. Slowly any confusion and any hurt on her face gave way to something utterly different. Her hands reached out for my hands across the table as they had earlier in the day, but this time they grabbed hard, holding on with an insistence almost desperate.

"You mean what you say? She asked intensely focusing her eyes upon my face in a scrutinizing manner.

"Absolutely."

For the third time that day she dropped her head then looked up at me. But this time with eyes that burned with resolve and desire.

"I want to take you home with me and I want to do it now" she said, clearly enunciating every word.

I could have blathered on and on about adoring her and the importance of taking things slow. But every cell in my body was screaming "yes" to her words.

A half-hour later we were in her apartment. She turned to me and put both her hands upon my face. Then she kissed me and to this day l swear it was as if I had never been kissed before. Her kiss was urgent, marking, mashing and taking, and then mine was to. We were all raw hunger and melding mouths. A frenzy of devouring tongues and sucking each other's spit and a mashing so intense and wide-mouthed it felt as if even our teeth were kissing. She bit down on my lip and I tasted blood. I liked it. A minute later she pushed me away almost hissing the words:

"I want to both be naked."

Leading me into her bedroom I wasn't about to compromise what I knew to be deeply true and said with cool insistence:

"Turn on every light."

Moments later we stood naked before each other in the glare. Nothing prepared me for the amount of hair that covered her body. Really, it was head-to-foot with finer hair on her breasts and upper belly. There were astonishingly thick growths around her pubic area extending up to her lower belly and sides of her waist. The mass then down to low on her inner thighs.

Her legs were a forest too, and they were strong and beautiful. Her underarms were a glorious entangle of sweat-matted hairs. She had ample breasts, large areolas and oversized nipples. I thought she was exquisite. Stepping forward I enfolded her in my arms and kissed her neck.

My penis, throbbing against her hairy midriff it simply would not go down. Curiously, it maintained a level of hard-throbbing and high-angled erectness unlike anything I had experienced before.

My wide-open and hungry mouth on her neck, and my body pressed against her, were doing things to her breathing which now came in short, quick pants. Sucking the air in deeply I reveled in the raw heated scent of her. I took her hand in mine and began to suck each of her fingers, drawing each one by turn deeply into me as if I were fucking each one with the womb of my mouth. Then I was sucking the palm of her hand and again our bodies closed together in some primal press, and raw entwining of heat and joy.

This time her whole body was wet with sweat and the scent of her heat had become urgent and rank. I touched her between her legs. At first it was just a thick tangle of matted damp hair I felt. Pressing harder, I could feel her mound and swollen labia lips, as if through a mass of hot and wet coarse-woven cloth. I drew my now drenched hand up to my mouth and opened it tasting her scent. One inhale and I tumbled into that feral rutting place I had imagined earlier while we sat face-to-face. But it was universes better than that.

My hand found her loins again and this time I worked my fingers through her soaked thatch as if her very core was pulling me inward. It took a while to get there but when the wet entanglement yielded to the smooth and soaking warmth of her inner lips she opened so eagerly, it was if she were trying to suck my whole hand into her. Two fingers became three, and then four, as her hot inner warmth unfurled around me.

I leaned my mouth down to take her nipple to suckle her nipple. It had grown considerably since I first saw it, thick and long, an hour before. Now, suckling it hard while four fingers fucked her insides, it swelled still larger in my mouth. Her whole body quivered to the movements of my hand and mouth. As suckle turned to bite wetness poured from her cunt. I moved my mouth to her other nipple as her hand encircled my throbbing cock. I felt her body tremble as she touched me and so wasn't surprised when she hissed:

"I need you inside me."

I thought my fingers had done the work of spreading the thick matting of her hair, but I was wrong. I had to literally fuck my way through the thick of her pubic hair to enter her. Even that gave a world of raw primal pleasures as I drove a hole in that beautiful jungle to plunge my way into paradise.

My cock finally inside of her we fucked for a long lovely time. Slowly, slowly, but pelvis-grindingly-deep. Thrust-fuck hard, taking each other to the edge of oblivion. Pulling out all the way and lingering, then plunging fast back into her depths. Mouths tearing into each other as thrusts became rhythmic. Short and fast thrusts of little more than cock head inside, and then the ravenous and soul-marking plunge. All the while our eyes would drink each other in, as our faces played through a a dozen dramas of thrust and merge.

Finally, it was all deep and grinding and hard and soaking as we thrust-fucked toward climax, her body up-bucking to meet every thrust. Her eyes rolled back for a moment and her breathing was all gasps. Her sloshy wet became a flood. We were all strength and pulse and hunger and merge. Then her pussy started contracting and moans became screams. We both started coming as the rapture of it seemed to flow between us in a mutual enveloping. Interfusion. Union. Communion. We were one.

When we woke limb entangled it was dark out. Eyes bleary I played over the whole astonishing course of the day. Looking at Julie I started to speak, but then just smiled, as did she. I felt so utterly home entangled in her arms. But then, leaning up on my elbow and seeing her adorned in her forest of hair, my eyes played over every part of her. She stretched and turned on her belly. Her ass was covered in fine hair that thickened to dense forest toward the crack. My insides burned again, but with a different kind of hunger.

Without a word I spread her hairy legs wider and positioned my body between them so my head lined up with her ass. My large hands spread her ass cheeks wide and I just plunged in. No soft lingering foreplay here. My mouth was ravenous for her dark depths, and take them I did. Spreading her cheeks wider and wider still, my mouth worked its way through the thick fragrant tangle. I discovered wet hairs would matt down in place, and I started literally sucking her ass hairs to a state of soaking, and then spitting out accumulated saliva to better find my way to her rectum.

Finally, it was there and open in its brown and pink glory. I sucked and suckled and plunged my tongue deep, the faint shit smells of her ass poured through my body and soul like some elixir of a darker dreamy primal rapture. I felt hungry and savage and kept opening her further, feeling her muscles relax by degree till after ten minutes I was plunging deep into her pink almost gaping depths unobstructed.

"fuck me"

Two simple words from Julie's beautiful mouth and, in a moment, I was inside of her. Plunging my cock again and again into her dark, lovely relaxed and sloshy wet depths. She raised her ass up higher to me and we were fucking so hard the sweaty soaked pounding of pelvis on ass beat like a drum.

Her hand, reaching underneath, found her loins and she fucked her cunt as furiously as my cock fucked her ass. This time it was quick, raw, urgent and explosive. She started to climax and that was enough for me. I exploded into her ass with all the joy and power of my being. She turned her head outrageously far to me as writhed hard and unhinged with eyes rolled back in her head as if half-slaughtered by the waves of her bliss.

This time we didn't sleep but rather lay sideways face-to-face talking. Somehow the subject of Lee Miller's D/s photos came up again. In speech so soft it was almost a whisper we agreed sometime soon we would together explore that beautiful world of power and relinquishing.

Julie got up to pee, and I almost found myself insisting she stay and play with her peeing in fun ways in bed. But that could wait too.

As she walked back into the room the sight of her stirred something else in me. I wanted to be marked by her.

"Fuck my mouth, will you please Julie," I asked. "Just use it. Take your pleasure from it. Rough would be better than tender."

Still standing, she looked at me and smiled with a hint of a wicked curl on the sides of her mouth. She straddled my face then lowered herself. First she just gently rocked forward and back as I suckled her clit through a mass of hair. But then, as if some switch turned inside of her, she turned deliciously beastly, fucking my mouth harder and harder. She began to push out from deep within her cunt and ass expelling her wetness and letting my mouth get crazily deep into her as she did.

Finally, she was just fucking her loins back and forth over my mouth as I fought through her hair to the depths of her pussy and then to the insides of her now cum-soaked rectum. I felt her push out again and my mouth was filled with a squirt of ass-scented cum. Then again it was all pussy as she ground down hard and pushed out. Finally, she softened her movements as my mouth closed over her engorged clit and slowly, rhythmically suckled her. She sat perfectly still for a moment, then started convulsing as she filled my mouth with her squirting, and filled my and ears with the song of her lovely enraptured moans.

Later that night looking at Julie I felt her tenderness and grace and smarts flooding into me. I felt the afterglow of our hungers that had opened a dozen new worlds we would spend the next years exploring. I thought her eyes when we talked about Man Ray, and Lee Miller. I thought about her standing naked in a room flooded with light. I thought about and the extraordinary freedom one feels when in restraints and knew we both would go there. I wondered how Julie's beautiful breasts would look bound with long cords of rope. I wondered how it would feel to calmly order her to open her mouth. I thought about piss play and squirt and gulping one another's wetness so fast the bed would stay dry. And then looking at Julie stretched out and happy upon the bed, naked yet adorned in hair, she turned her head to meet my eyes. It was like drinking in the paradise of the world. I thought in that instant, looking at every inch of Julie's being, I had never in my life seen anyone as beautiful.