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I just wanted it gone. My girlfriend suggested I visit her esthetician. I made an appointment, telling her I would try anything once.
Secretly I was excited. Her reply was that it was a matter of personal preference and also depended on what was doing down there. I immediately pulled down my underwear and showed her what I was dealing with.
I mean, they wax vaginas all day for a living. Doctors fix vaginas, and waxers just pull off hair. But either way, they both see a ton of vaginas.
My logic was that a penis is the male vagina, to which I think we can all agree. So, I showed her. Later when I told my wife that I showed her waxer my privates to get some grooming advice, I was surprised to find out she was not happy.
It would be more accurate to say she was extremely angry. About the same time this happened, I had another interesting pubic moment — this time with my father.
I was home in Peoria visiting my parents. Plug in that visual while I roll out the rest of the details. After a three-hour summer ride home with the top-down, I was ready for a shower.
You get this heaviness in your hair and on your face, probably from all the crap in the air. I made my way to my bedroom and unpacked.
Pulled out the shower gloves and my toiletry bag. Next I stripped naked, as one would do when preparing to bathe.
I had forgotten conditioner. Combine my predilection for nudity with the activity of getting ready for a shower, and you have a nude man walking about.
So, as I was about to step into the tub, I realized — no conditioner. Heading out of the bathroom, was fortunate to see my father walking to his bedroom — this is where their conditioner is stashed.
I asked my dad if he would grab some for me. He did, and came back moments later with a bottle. Probably Jojoba. I froze like you see in the movies where someone is walking away and the other person says something shocking.
The person walking away stops and shudders, and you see this all from the back. In this case, imagine me nude from behind, stopping.
As casually as you would say your own name, my father answered, with seemingly no emotional attachment to his response. I spun around, because clearly this is a conversation that needed to continue.
So many thoughts. Not to bore you with the details, but I must have asked six more questions about this practice.
Does it really condition the hair? How long do you leave it on? Do you wash, rinse, repeat, and then condition? Who taught you to do this?
Stuff like that. He answered each question. I believe, in his mind, this was a form of wisdom he was passing down from father to son.
And, in a way, it was wisdom, for I had never heard about conditioning chest hair. Now I really did shudder. I suppose I talked about it with girlfriends, but only to make sure they were cool with my grooming decisions.
But never spoken of with friends, pastor, or employer. I turned to look, because clearly, this WAS a joke. The whole chest hair conversation had to be a long setup, and this was the punchline.
Well done, Dad! Reminds me of the time I was coming back with my parents from a wedding for a family friend named Andrea.
You'd probably tag along after a man who tells you he has a hurt puppy in his car! It's not my daughter's school. I'm pretty sure she doesn't know him that well.
On the other hand, if I do decide to exact retribution at some point, it will now take me about ten minutes, from the information he has given me, to find out who he is and what his parents' home phone number is.
This seems to be a boy my girl kind of knows who is indulging in a disgusting fad. It's disgusting, but it's so disgusting it suddenly seems funny.
Also, I'm so relieved that the possible other, darker scenario isn't true--we are not going to be a statistic in "Newsweek," it seems--that I'm practically giddy.
My older daughter and her friend and I spend the next twenty minutes laughing ourselves silly about M and his member and the possible future conversations we might have with him about it.
My baby arrives home from school. Her appearance at the front door sends my older daughter and her friend and I into fresh fits of laughter.
I say, playfully, "Did you get a little something in your email from someone named M? He's disgusting! Why are you reading my email? In the days that follow, M and his penis are reduced to a funny anecdote in our family, included in the category of penis humor that my girls and their friends have developed over the years one enduring penis song, the product of a long car ride in Italy: "Wanahini wanahini, Hello, is that your peenee?
Wanahini wanahini, Does it drive a Lamborghini? I keep trying to keep what M did down at fad status: just funnin', a latter-day version of goldfish-swallowing or cramming all of your friends into a phone booth.
I don't know why these antique examples come to mind, but I've always been kind of retro, kind of behind my time. I didn't participate in the naughty fads of my day so much as read about them in Life magazine while sitting in the kitchen in my flannel nightie, drinking a glass of milk and eating a box of Nilla wafers and watching "The Mary Tyler Moore Show.
All of these things involved nudity and exhibitionism and flaunting your privates, didn't they? What's the difference between that and sending a picture of your penis over the Internet?
This interpretation refuses to sit right. Those other fads were all about being with other people, they were convivial group romps.
I think of M alone in his bathroom, looking at Mom's bras and the used towels on the floor, taking pictures of his lonesome penis. Get out of there, son!
Go outside and get some air! But just as grieving has its stages Denial, Anger, etc. My God! It is not all right, sending a picture of an erect penis to my 13 year-old!
What effect has it had on her? Has this been a traumatic event? I can't believe how many days it has taken me to get truly concerned about this. Surely she has seen pictures of penises before, maybe even erect ones--they probably sketch them from live models in Sex Education--but this one was personal, this one was meant for her and however many other girls on M's list.
This one was in big, veiny close-up. I am a terrible mother. My baby has always been a private person, and not loquacious.
I try to talk to her about it two more times, but I'm rebuffed. She hates Talks. I don't blame her.
One afternoon I see her at the far corner of the yard, swinging on the swing set. Her older sister did the same thing when she was a teenager, on the swing set we'd bought for her when he was little.
She'd go out there and swing gently back and forth, rocking herself into a kind of reverie. Ten years later, the new baby came, and we bought a wooden swing set to replace the rusty old metal one.
And now the baby has the same habit as her sister. Now, when there is absolutely nothing else to do, she goes out there and swings slowly, the wood making little creaking sounds like a sailboat's mast in the sea.
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All rights reserved. Tap here to turn on desktop notifications to get the news sent straight to you. Don't be disgusting! It's probably just some boy she knows, says my older child, some boy just trying to be funny.
Good girl. A little more. Oh, yes! Are you my cum-slut baby? This is so wicked and nasty! Now suck on the head!
Faster, baby, faster! Keep stroking! Keep stro. With a deep growl, the floodgates opened, and a river of cum squirted into my mouth. Squirted and gushed and spewed in one heavy stream after another!
My mouth filled totally up in like a second! Cum squirted out the sides of my mouth! It oozed down my chin and dripped on my tits and my thighs!
I was choking and could hardly breath, but I kept sucking his dick head and stroking his shaft, and caressing his balls just like he showed me.
There was cum in my nose, and dripping down my belly. I was gagging. Daddy pulled my head back with one hand and pointed his dick in my eyes with the other, and the last squirts shot me square in the eyes and poured down my face.
Daddy wants his cum all over your face! And all over your cute little tits! When his cock finally started to go limp, he sat down beside me and put his arms around me.
And I had a whole mouth full of his sweet hot cum. My daddy had shot his cum in my mouth! The salty taste was luscious and so nasty and wicked! He kissed and licked all the cum off my face.
Then he kissed me, a full tongue French kiss. I could feel his tongue swirling around all the cum in my mouth while his hand fondled my tits. Then finally, the kiss was over and he said I should swallow his cum and I did.
By then, I was breathing so hard, I was dizzy. My pussy was just painfully horny. I was about to stick my fingers inside me, when suddenly daddy put two of his fingers inside my pussy.
My pussy was just totally fucking soaked with panty pudding. His big fingers slipped easily inside me and I shivered all over at the pleasure.
Daddy lay me down on the bed and started kissing and sucking my nipples! Nobody had done that before! I woulda gone crazy from lust had it not been for his fingers which were stroking in and out of me like a piston!
Then his kisses headed south. It felt so good, but for a moment I wondered where he was going? He was kissing my tummy.
Then down between my legs. Then… then…! My daddy was kissing my pussy!!! I could feel his tongue slipping between my pussy lips as if his tongue was a dick!!!
And then my whole body caught fire! My daddy was putting his tongue inside my drooling pussy! And he was licking my clit! God, how nasty was that?!
My daddy was licking my clit! My whole body spasmed like I was having a seizure. I grabbed his hair with both hands and started humping his tongue as hard as I could.
I was moaning and humping and crying real loud. Everything began to go hazy and black, and when my orgasm hit about the seventh time, I think I passed out.
The blackness crashed over me in waves, one after the other. I opened my eyes, and there was daddy, his handsome face covered with my juices, smiling down at me.
It would mean the world to me. Do you think you can do that for me? That would make me so horny, Sweet Muffin, if you would do that for me.
As long as I get to feel your cock inside my cunt again! And feel your cum filling my mouth! And I want you to stop wearing panties. Wear those little short pleated skirts I got for you, okay?
And those thin tanktops that fit you so tightly that your nipples show. But no bra or panties, okay?
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