Now she was thoughtful.
“You don’t wear them yourself do you, you’re not one of those sissies that really want to be girls?” Here eyes swept up and down my hairy muscular body then burst out laughing at the thought. I joined in at such a wild idea.
“And waxed pussies?” she asked quizzically, “You go for that too?”
I nodded.
“So my hairy armpits and cunt are a bit of a turn off for you?” She added.
“Sorry Simmi,” I said, “It’s me not you. I can’t help it. You’re a really beautiful woman. I must be sick in the head or something?”
“Fuck, but you’re a deep one Jacko, with a lingerie and shaved pussy fetish!” she said in wonderment. “And some of the girls thought you must be fucking gay!”
(Gay! What The Fuck!)
“From what I’ve seen you have a body hair and cum fetish Simmi, we both have our kinks,” I said, turning to see her smile and nod.
“I could cum just rubbing against your body!” she said dreamily, leaning across and kissing my lips.
I glanced at my watch hoping to distract her. Fat chance. She was pumped up with this!
“Christ look at the time Simmi, we gotta get a move on or we’ll be late for this afternoons lecture,” I said plugging in my seatbelt.
But Simone still had that wild look about her, a look that told me she had an appetite, and I was on the menu.
“So,” she said thoughtfully, giving me a quick sideways glance, “To get my hands on that hairy body of yours regularly Jacko, I’d have to turn myself into a fucking hairless hooker, right?”
I just shrugged my shoulders. “Sorry Simmi, you know I really do like you!”
Chapter 11
It didn’t take us long to wash ourselves in the van sink, throw on our clothes, load all the lights and kit into the back of her van.
Then we drove the couple of miles to where I lived. But as we drove Simone was still interested in the message and seemed reluctant to change the subject.
She kept firing of questions, wanted to know who the MILF was, where she lived, how did we meet, how old she was, how often I slept with her?
Eventually I pacified her by inventing a fictitious MILF who I had met online.
She was an attractive 40 year old red head, living on a housing estate the opposite end of town to me.
I embellished the lie with a husband away a lot of the time working on the Scottish oil Rigs.
Once we reached home we worked together to unload the van.
I took advantage of Simone’s finely toned body and together we carried all the studio equipment up stairs into my bedroom. It took us three trips.
The house was hot after being shut up for the morning and both of ushers soon sweating with the effort.
Without thinking I stripped off my sweat-soaked ‘T’ shirt and threw it into the bathroom as I passed, planning to pick up a fresh one before we returned to college.
Simmi was still wearing only her bra and jeans and I found myself climbing the stairs behind her, studying beads of sweat on her arms and shoulder and the erotic sway of her slim hips.
She in turn seemed fascinated with the hair on my back on the return journey downstairs.
Once I felt the thrill of her hand running up and down the hairs on my back.