Smooth Legs

For my recent trip, I needed hairy legs.

My Mistress kindly gave me permission to let the hair grow out, so I didn't do anything to stop the hair growing throughout the month of August. This left me with about half an inch of hair, fairly thick all over my legs. I won't show you a photo, it's not a pretty sight. These legs, however, are very pretty:

Now I hated letting the hair grow. It really isn't very long since I first got rid of all the hair on my legs; in fact I only enjoyed a couple of weeks of hairlessness before it was time to grow it all back again, but from the moment I first tried it I was hooked.

I don't know if you've ever shaved your legs. If you haven't, then you really must; the experience is amazing. It's electric, the sensation of smoothness on the skin, and then when you start to dress...

Every sensation is magnified. The hair on your legs has shielded you from contact with the world for years, and now every movement of fabric against skin is intense, is erotic. I never thought I'd see the day, but shaving your legs makes trousers sexy.

Not as sexy as stockings though. That's a whole other level.

 

  

Now I'm not quite finished yet. There's a lot of hair to remove, and it'll take two goes to get it all gone, but when I'm done, I'll post again.

Striptease part 2

I didn't leave the club straight away after my first dance. Instead I  hung around to finish my beer, and after a  few minutes I was approached by another dancer.

This was Karen. That was her stage name, because she was Czech and apparently I wouldn't be able to pronounce her real name. Again we chatted for a bit, while Karen ran her hands over my thigh and across my shoulders. I could feel the muscles twitching in my shoulders as she moved her hand over where the strap lay, but she didn't react.

She asked me if I would like a private dance, and again I accepted, finding myself led to a different corner for a different dance. Karen was all in white: white dress, white heels, white panties and white garter. In a minute or two all but the shoes where gone and she was gyrating on top of me.

Karen's dancing style was different to Melissa's. Melissa spent a lot of time leaning back, displaying herself, letting me see all of her. Karen, on the other hand, came in close, one leg up on the arm of my chair, moving her body within centimetres of my face, small details in sharp relief.

It's an odd power dynamic, a lap dance. Because the man (or sissy) just sits there, it feels at first like they're the one in control. They're paying the piper, they're calling the tune, all that cliche. But really it's the dancer who is in control. They choose what to show and how, they direct the watcher with their movements. A good enough dancer has complete control over the man, because all he can do is sit there and be controlled.

That's why I couldn't do anything when Karen dropped to her haunches in front of me, facing away from me, throwing her head back and letting it slide down my chest as she sank to her knees.

My heart stopped. I felt the front of the bra, whith its lace, pretty white bow and hard wire, press into my chest. Of course, it was right up against my skin, while Karen would have to feel it through a shirt and the hair on the back of her head, but I couldn't believe that...

She didn't react, she just kept dancing. Did she know? I couldn't tell, and I still can't. She finished the dance in any case, and after that I left the club. After I left, did she talk to Melissa? Did they swap stories about the man who wasn't a man, wearing his bra while they danced for him, wishing he was them? Would that be funny? Sexy? Just plain odd? I have no way of knowing.

I am such a sissy slut, and maybe someone else knows that now.

XX