July 30, 2007
Tamara & Tamara & . . .


cydytame134.jpgEarlier today I got waxed. Unlike just about every other woman I’ve ever spoken to about this Brazilian matter-and every man too, actually-I like getting waxed. I like the whole de-furred enchilada: the exhibition of my naughty bits, the warmth of the wax, the laborious process, the prepubescent effect, and the pain.

I wanted to take a picture of my waxer, Tamara, with my camera phone. I considered it, but then thought maybe she wouldn’t like the exposure, if that’s possible. I like Tamara quite a bit. She’s of uncertain Eastern European origin and she calls me “my dear.”

She compliments my cootch. It’s nice. “You are lovely, my darling,” she says as she carefully separates my labia, paints a swatch of wax on the minoris, presses a gauze strip down with a matronly and comforting firmness, and then deftly rips the it off with surprising abandon.  She seems to have a vendetta against my pubic hair; it’s like she and my pubes have a grudge from the old neighborhood.

She waxes. She tweezes. She plucks and trims and dusts and plucks again. She leaves no hair left unremoved. She and her wax go fearlessly into the trammeled territory of my asshole. Tamara and my pubic hair: it’s search and destroy. I lie there passive, reclined on the table like a pasha, like a princess, like a sheep with a very, very particular shepherd.

Interestingly, Tamara, my waxer, is shared by me and my X, Tyler. And her current girlfriend, Monica.  We are quite the pubic triangle, Tyler, Monica and I.

Tamara sits at our center, a crockpot of grassgreen wax at her side, sheaves of cotton gauze in her latex-gloved hands, and armed with a tweezer. Bending us all, individually, in compromising positions, our legs thrown over her broad shoulders with equanimity. To hair is human; to wax, divine.

After Tamara has finished with me, and I have tipped her very heavily for her dangerous and dedicated duty, baby powder dusts my tiny pubic mound like a sugar cookie, and the residual wax glues my pussylips together like the pages of a Maxim at Riker’s Island.

Tonight these pages of my pussy were prized apart by my lover’s eager and long fingers and who slid them into me up to its base, bumping against my cervix with something that not unlike waxing straddles the divide of pleasure and pain.

Tonight I will sleep in sheets still scented with sex. Because that’s just the kind of goddess I am. The skanky kind. But in a good way.
 


Comments

5 Responses to “Tamara & Tamara & . . .”

  1. la fille on July 30th, 2007 10:35 am

    Oh lovely… I adore the idea of Tamara being at the centre of that whirlwind of sex and passion.

  2. badinfluencegirl on July 31st, 2007 7:46 pm

    ahh chelsea girl

    “like the pages of a Maxim at Rikers Island.”

    how do you do that?

  3. chelsea g summers née girl on August 1st, 2007 6:22 am

    Thanks, you all.

    Tamara is lovely, and I am long overdue seeing her again.

    kissykiss,
    chelsea g

  4. aag on August 4th, 2007 8:12 am

    Is it very very wrong that I’d like to watch this process from a chair in the corner?

    :)

  5. Petra on August 13th, 2007 6:40 am

    Like the story and am

    soaking wet, at the thot

    of me being done like that !!

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