I shed the armor that protects me from my insecurities. My reflection a peak into the depths of my own heartbreak. A black hairband is the first to fall to the ground, my long brown hair falling free from the ponytail it's been pulled into after work every day for weeks now. Next to fall to the floor is my sweatshirt. One size too big. Like a blanket to keep me warm in this late fall cold. The sweatpants follow next, dropping down my waist with naught more than a tug on the loose knot of the drawstring holding them up.
And there I am. No makeup. A beige bra that does nothing to accentuate one of my sexier features. And a pair of white cotton classic panties because I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to dress even the tiniest bit sexy. Six weeks of hiding under pants has allowed me to get away with not shaving my legs. My calves are a mess of wispy brown hairs. I sigh as I unfasten my bra, taking note of the short tufts of hair under my arms. My panties going next.
Standing upright I push my fingers into my hair behind my head, holding them intertwined together tight against my scalp as I take in my beautiful disaster. Minutes passed as I lament over the mess of hair on my legs, under my arms, and worst of all, the unkempt triangle of wisp that covered my crotch. A moment of thought and it dawned on me it's been at least ten weeks since my last visit to the spa to have my bikini line wrangled under control. 'I'm a hippy...' I murmur under my breath.
No one can see me in this state. I draw a warm bath and while the tub fills I grab the tools I'll need to make myself smooth one more. When I emerge from beneath the bathroom sink with a razor and shaving cream in hand tendrils of steam have already made their presence know, blurring the edges of the bathroom mirror.
The water kisses my skin, so hot it practically burns. I grunt as I lower myself, admonishing the extreme heat but quickly sinking it my shoulders and enjoying its intensity as I relax. The water covers my mouth, sitting just below my nose and I soak in the heat, enjoying every second of it as my muscles relax.
As I close my eyes I begin to think about what I want tonight. I want to look sexy. I need to wear something that says I'm not going home alone. Skinny jeans and flats. That's a given. I want to dance. I want to be comfortable. It all comes down to the top. What goes well with my black leather jacket?
Thinking about the tops in my closet makes me think about the reaction I want to get tonight. I want them to drool when they see me. I want a girl to walk up to me and tell me in no uncertain terms that she wants me. She needs me and she's not taking no for an answer. I want to sweat as we grind against each other with abandon on the dance floor, her hands groping me as she fucks me with her eyes.
Reality pulls me out of the fantasy as I realize my hand has drifted between my legs sending a pulse of pleasure jolts through me. I rub my fingers side to side across my clit a dozen times, sighing softly when the feeling grows intensely erotic enough to elicit an audible reaction. It takes all of my willpower to stop myself from getting carried away. I need to clean up, not lose myself in fantasy.
Gritting my teeth I pull my hand from between my legs, fighting a tremendous urge to continue playing with myself. If I masturbate before cleaning up my unkempt self I'll never get it done today. I can kiss going out tonight goodbye.
The razor makes swift work of the hair under my arms. Both sides are shaved smooth in less than a handful of strokes of the razor each. Kicking my right leg into the air I pull my knee to my chest and slather my calf from ankle to knee in shaving cream. I work the razor from my ankle down to my knee in long, slow strokes. Rinsing the blade in the bath water after each, following up with a second pass and another rinse.
The bathroom has taken on a rain forest humidity, the mirror so badly fogged that nothing reflects in it anymore. With my legs and underarms clean of offending hair it's time to go to work on something more intimate. I draw myself up out of the bath and take a seat on the ledge of the bathtub, spreading my legs wide. Looking at the state I've let myself go I fill my palm with shaving cream, probably twice as much as I need, and begin to spread it around, letting it cover my whole mound and outer lips.
The razor slides easily against my soft skin, sinking into the thick cream covered areas, leaving behind a smooth patch of skin. I dip the razor in the tub and repeat. My idea is to leave a landing strip and inch or so wide just above my clit. Or maybe a small triangle. As I shave, short slow strokes over the contours of my mons I begin to fantasize again. The possibilities of the evening seem endless. And then there's an attractive girl between my legs. Her face seems a blur but I can tell she's attractive. Her hair doesn't give away whether she's a butch or a femme. It doesn't matter.
When the fantasy evaporates to reality I realize that my idea for some decorative shape has been dashed by daydreaming. Two thirds of my mons has been cleared of all but the most stubborn of hairs, wisps that were missed by a slightly clogged razor. I purse my lips and begin to clean up the areas that I'd missed, watching as just kissable smooth skin is left behind.
In a few short minutes the messy tangle of wispy brown hair is reduced to smooth skin. I rub my fingers up and down, and side to side over every inch of my womanhood. I've been thorough. I can't find any traces of hair not shaved flush down to the skin.
The tub cleans easily, rinsing away any stray hair and shaving cream that didn't get sucked down the open drain. When the tub is clean I step in and get the water running to a comfortable warmth, turning the knobs just enough to keep the water pressure reasonably low.
The shower head spurts to life as I pull the plunger to divert water upwards and I twist the shower head knob, diverting the water once more to the hand held spout. Closing the curtain behind me I rinse myself off head to toe, using soap to catch and get rid of any unwanted hair that's stuck to my skin. When my hair is washed and rinsed of shampoo I quickly lather in conditioner.
Pulling the handheld shower head from it's harness once more I twist the head, changing it from the traditional rain setting to my favored setting. Massage.
Three prongs of water jet out of the shower head and I jump off my heels, my toes never leaving the tub, as the spray hits my left breast. My heart begins to race as I lower the shower head, the water jetting out making a small moving dimple in my skin as I guide it lower and lower. The dimple moves over the supple curve of my mons and I lean my weight back onto my heels so I can curl my toes. My loins aching with anticipation.
Oh god the anticipation of pleasure. It's delicious kiss. Like hot breath on my neck. The prelude to a kiss. My body aching. Yearning. Crying out, 'Give it to me!' Oh god! It makes me shudder and moan softly as my mind is lost in a haze of arousal. That heavy fog that clouds all thought. The only thing that matters is what feels good.
Eyes closing as I let my shoulder lean into the cold tile wall, a new sensation ripples pleasure through me. The feel of the cold tile against my stiff nipple. I turn my body pressing my full chest and cheek against the wall. My left hand teasing my entrance from behind. The shower head inches lower and all thought is gone for anything except pleasure. Flashes of the woman I imagine I want to fuck flickering in the darkness of my minds eye.
My world becomes the sound of water splashing into the tub, the whir of the massage jet, and my own moans of pleasure. A glowing hot ball of intensity grows faster and faster between my legs. Its weight making my knees quiver and my hips buck
It's time to forget yesterday. It's time to remember to live for today.