Hairless Pussy Stories

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Hairless Pussy Stories


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No matter how much advice you received from friends, family and school, no one can ever really prepare you for that first break-up, how to go about your first kiss or what on earth to do when womanhood approaches you in the form of blood flowing from your nether regions. Our pubescent years are filled with tackling these ground-breaking life events in our very different ways, some of which we don’t always find comfortable to talk about. I sat down with a plethora of ladies and questioned them on just a few of the highs and lows of ‘femaleness’ and their experiences.
‘I did kiss someone when I was 3 but I don’t think that counts (it was magical). It happened again when I was 13 with a disgusting boy at a party, it was like a washing machine and then I was gone with the wind (again, magical).’
‘When I was 18, at a house party. He asked me if I’d like to go out for some air. At this point, I had no idea what going out for air meant. He just pushed his face into mine and frankly, it was awful. But he’s now gay so I feel like it’s all worked out for the best.’
‘He was my boyfriend in year 9. We’d been out in the park, he walked me home and we kissed on my front door step. Worst moment of my life, and I don’t think I kissed another boy for a year.’
 ‘I was 13 and it was on Wandsworth Common where everyone used to go and just get really drunk. Some creepy guy dragged me off and I swear, his tongue explored my face in its entirety. S C A R R E D.’
 ‘I was 12, nearly 13 and it just happened in John Lewis. Very middle class.’
‘We were on a family holiday in the summer after Year 8. One day, I had a massive argument with my mum because she didn’t like me buying boys’ clothes. That same day, I just started bleeding. Cried on the bathroom floor for hours. The sheer irony of that day still gets me.’
 ‘I was 11 and I didn’t know what a period was. I cried because I thought I was dying and then thought I was pregnant. Cried to my mum and told her what happened. She hugged me, congratulated me on being a woman and then promptly called all the females in my family. When I came home from school that day, my brother had found out and was discovered sat on the bathroom floor crying whilst looking at pictures of me as a small child.’
‘I got mine when I was 8 or 9 and told my mum who then slapped me across the face. Apparently it’s tradition.’
‘Mine was in year 7. I remember I was in History and needed to go to the toilet. When I got up, I accidentally flashed all my friends but didn’t really think anything of it. It was when I got to the toilet that I realised I had started my period. Half my class had seen my bloody knickers.’
First time you shaved or waxed your lady-garden?
‘I think I was going to a party when I was like 15 and some people were allowed to stay over. I’m not sure what I thought would happen but I wanted to be prepared at all costs, so I stole my mum’s blunt razor and got to work. It was a real hack job. I then stayed away from boys at all costs, no one needed to see that.’
 ‘Don’t remember when it actually happened but girls started talking about it so I went home and gave shaving a try. Probably for the best because I got fingered a week later.’
 ‘I actually went for the scissors first. I wasn’t really looking and cut myself a few times which fucking hurt. Then I found my dad’s razor and ended up with a terrible shaving rash and war wounds.’
‘I was 14 or 15. I had a free house, and this guy came round. We were getting drunk and getting off with one another. Things started getting hot and heavy so I told him that I needed the toilet and I locked myself in and shaved literally everything including my forearms.’
‘I remember my first time because I was in the bath and the shower head ended up between my legs and was feeling quite nice. Got quite into it and then the shower head came off.’
‘I was pretty young, between 10 and 12, and I didn’t know what I was doing. It involved a pillow. I was basically dry-humping a pillow. My mum walked in. It was under covers but she knew. She. Knew.’
 ‘I think I was 15 and this girl had sent a video of herself masturbating to a boy, who in turn ended up sharing it with everyone. Me and my group of friends were like, “well, gonna give this a go and see what all the fuss is it about”.’
‘It was a very long time ago and I thought it was the most incredible thing in the history of the world and thought no one else could do it, almost like a secret power. Used to do it all the time and then slowed it down, because it was getting weird.’
First time you did anything sexual with a boy
‘I was 16 with a long term boyfriend. He fingered me and that was it. It was pretty good, I can’t really remember it if I’m being honest, all I know is I didn’t want to touch his penis.’
‘Everything happened on the same night. It was so painful, we just went from one thing to another. Finger, penis, done, ouch. He got a condom from his parents’ room which I realise now is really weird. I was in so much pain afterwards and then ran to the toilet and cried. Then he bought me Ben and Jerry’s which we ate in bed. Cute.’
‘Kinda half gave someone a hand-job in an ICT lesson. Classic.’
‘It was on a beanbag in my mate’s house and it was weird because my hand was down his trousers, holding his penis but I didn’t know what to do with it. You know at primary school when you’d have to put your hand in a bag and try to figure out what was in your hand? It was like that. Like a blind man trying to peel a carrot.’
‘After 3 attempts of trying and failed miserably to have sex, we gave it another go. We were passionately kissing, clothes were off, he was on top and then next thing you know, he whispered in my ear that it was in. To which I responded ‘really?’ Afterwards, I sang ‘Like a Virgin’ by Madonna.’
‘It was actually not bad, it obviously hurt a bit. Bled a bit but not a lot because I dance. The next day when I was getting the train from his back to mine, I remember being at the train station and feeling really aware that everyone knew what I had done.’
‘I’d had sexual relations with a boy about 5 minutes beforehand, and being the horny hunni that I am, another guy who was interested started getting off with me and we were just canoodling in a dark room. Another friend entered the room and unsuspectedly started chatting to us about X Factor. It was simply not the time nor the place so we decided to move the party to the downstairs bathroom and my first real sexual position was standing up doggy style. When it was over, I went home and cried a bit because I was really hungover.’
‘It was with my boyfriend in year 11 who I’d been together with for 8 months. I invited him round thinking that it would be the day it finally happened. We had one condom. He got really nervous and ripped it. It was not the day.’
 ‘It was devastating. We had an intense summer romance over 4 months. One night at Crisis I got a text from him out of the blue saying ‘I don’t think this is going to work anymore’. I didn’t speak for 5 or 6 days afterwards. He told me I had to get over it and when I stalked him on Facebook, I discovered he had gotten a girlfriend. Since then, I’ve never actually fallen for someone else.’
‘It was primary school. He was actually quite a rebel and I was attracted to the bad boy in him. I think I thought I could change him, We’d double-date with another couple and all go to the playground. But then it just fizzled out.’
‘I went to a house party. I was just not feeling the relationship anymore and he kind of brought it up whilst we were sitting with his friends. We ended up breaking up there and then but I was still staying over and had to drive him back the next day. He kept trying to spoon me in the night. It was pretty awkward.’
 ‘I was on holiday with my first ever proper boyfriend in Cyprus with some friends. We were all walking down the beach and he ran into the sea with my best friend’s little sister and they literally started getting off and having sex in the sea. He tried to talk to me but I was like, you’re fucking dumb. But it’s okay because he’s gay now.’
‘On Facebook chat, he was just like, this isn’t working. I got finished on Facebook chat. Minute of silence for me please.’
‘It was year 8 and I went to a friend’s party. We were all in the pool and we decided to get with each other. Some of the girls were topless. I really just don’t know.’
‘I kissed a friend at a house party because we wanted to make two of our male friends kiss. We kissed but they didn’t so we were pissed. Also, one time in Market Bar, someone was aggressively trying it on with me and I told me and my friend were in a lesbian relationship. He told me to prove it and frankly, I don’t like being called a liar. Sparks flew.’
 ‘I’ve never done it properly. Just a little peck but who doesn’t do that?’
‘I was on a night out and dancing, proper going for it. I was swivelling around, slut dropping and then accidentally karate punched this girl’s drink out of her hand. I was like, “so sorry I’ll buy you a drink”. So I bought her a drink and then she decided to kiss me. Didn’t really mind. The bartender was like, no PDA in this bar and proceeded to squirt the girl in the face with the soda hose. A whirlwind romance.’
First time you got horrifically drunk
‘It was on the day of our last GCSE exam. My mum kindly gave me a bottle of wine which I downed all by myself. I passed out for about 4 hours. Came about and everyone started freaking out. I staggered towards the garden. The girl whose house I was at was like ‘please don’t throw up on my mum’s garden, she just paid £400 for it.’ I was like, “I’m so sorry”, and proceeded to projectile everywhere.’
‘Me and a couple of friends went to an 18th when we were 14. Took a litre of vodka from my parents’ alcohol cabinet and drank about an eighth of it. We were all sat in the corner being sick on each other. My friend called a taxi and I was sick in my coat but fashioned it in such a manner that it was like a bag, so when the driver tried to make us pay a sickness charge, I threatened to pour it on him. That shut him up real quick.’
 ‘I was THAT girl at the first party of sixth form. Went to a party and was fed straight gin. My mate’s dad had to take me home, stopping on the way so I could throw up on the side of the road. My mum answered the door to witness me fall out of the car and hit my head on the kerb. I threw up on my mum’s feet and then was put in my bed. Threw up there too. Was still throwing up two days later. My friend’s dad still asks about me: “how’s the drunk girl?”’
‘I was visiting my sister at uni when I was 16 and she threw a house party. I got smashed before the house party on Apple Sourz jelly shots. I passed out in her roommate’s bed and threw up in her shoe closet but it was alright because her shoes were ugly.’
 ‘In my defence, it was the first time I had ever been prescribed co-codamol and didn’t know it reacted with alcohol. I was 14 and at a friend’s house party. A few of us had some drinks beforehand, very casually. Her parents were quite strict. 10 minutes later, the alcohol and co-codamol reacted. I have a vivid memory of being on the floor of her bathroom and not being able to move. I would will myself to stand up but would flop to the floor like a jellyfish. Her mum had to drive me home. I don’t think my mum has actually been angrier with me since.’
‘It was at a BBQ and I was still dealing with having been broken up with for the first time. We starting drinking at like 12 in the afternoon. Had a couple big bottles of cider, then a lot of tequila, wine, Cointreau and then 3 shots of absinthe. I then remember waking up to my mother shouting at me, showing me a picture of myself in a hospital bed. Apparently, I threw up so much, I didn’t even have to get my stomach pumped.’
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Best Friends/Worst Enemies:
Understanding the Social Lives of Our Children,
By Michael G. Thompson, Ph.D.and Catherine O'Neill Grace

In a Different Voice, by Carol Gilligan

The Blessing of a Skinned Knee, by Wendy Mogel

Raising Lifelong Learners: A Parent's Guide by Lucy McCormick Calkins


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Once there were three little girls, Kathy, Lilly and Susan. They were all new to my school in the seventh grade and had come from different schools. But in eighth grade, when they were together, they turned themselves into a gang that was mean to other kids with increasing frequency and ferocity. Teachers knew it was happening, but the girls were clever and slippery. We could rarely catch them in a teachable moment or a punishable act. The most we could do was talk to them. As you can imagine, that didn’t change anything.
One afternoon, at the bus stop across the street from school they approached Johnny, a sixth grader who wasn’t so good with other people. He walked with his head down looking at his feet with his shoulders pulled over him like a turtle shell. Sitting there on the bench he must have been slouched like a turtle with its arms and legs in.
By all accounts, including one from a teacher who watched the episode from the other side of the avenue, the girls approached the bench, told Johnny to get up because they wanted to sit on the bench. Johnny did. They mocked him for a while and then, as the humiliations built to a crescendo, one of the girls threw her half-finished smoothie. It hit him in the chest and spilled banana-strawberry slush all down his front.
The next morning, I talked with the students, one at a time, in my office. Even though each of the girls had her own version, each minimizing her role in the affair, none of them took responsibility for the incident. I told them this was serious and that I still had to consider what I would do about it and sent them back to class. Then, I talked with Johnny whose story corroborated the teacher’s report, though in his humiliation he was not enthusiastic to talk about it.
I called Johnny’s home and got his mother on the phone. “I am glad you called me,” she said. “Johnny told me all about it. The stuff was all over him. I was going to call you.”
I told her that I would check in with Johnny and make sure he knows that I will keep him safe here.
I talked to the girls’ mothers and told each of them that I was going to suspend her daughter. That meant they needed to come to school and pick them up as soon as they could.
I told them I would let their daughters return to school when I knew that things would be different. I explained that when their daughters were ready to convince me that things are going to be different, they should call me to set up an appointment.
Kathy’s mom was horrified, and after asking a few questions to get the facts straight she said: “Thank you. I will call you after I talk with her.”
Lilly’s mother was at work and asked if she could pick Lilly up at the end of the day. I said that that was fine, and that she would wait in my office until she arrived. She was angry, but I couldn’t tell if she was angry with me or her daughter.
Susan’s mother came to her daughter’s defense, and decided that I was overreacting, that this was much too small an offense to merit suspension.
When I told the girls that they would be suspended, they were quiet. None of them tried to defend themselves. The only difference was the look on their faces. Kathy’s turned pale. Lilly looked afraid, but Susan had a confident little smile on her face.
That smile! I had seen that look before on a squirrel. One spring a pair of Mourning Doves built a nest outside the window of my office. I was able to watch their progress: the building of the nest, the starting of a family, and the incubation of the eggs. One day, just as I thought I would soon be witnessing the birth of doves, I saw a squirrel approaching along the ledge outside the window. Immediately I started shouting and banging on the window, trying to be as scary as I could. The squirrel just stared at me, as if to say: “You can’t touch me.” Then he proceeded on to the nest and methodically ate the eggs, as I watched, powerless. Susan was giving me the same look.
Kathy and her parents were at my office at 7:30am the next morning. Kathy sat directly across the table from me and spoke first, looking me straight in the eye. “Mr. Ackerly, I know what I did wrong. Even though I didn’t throw the smoothie myself, I was there and I didn’t say anything. I laughed at what was happening, and I know we made Johnny feel bad. I know I was part of what made him feel bad. I feel bad about it, and I want to come back.”
“Do you think that what you did was harassment?”
Pause. “Well, yes, sort of. I participated in harassment.”
“Yes, you did. Can you think of anything you can do to fix it?” Thoughtful look on her face; pause;
“I can’t really fix it. I can talk to Johnny.”
“I don’t know. I would say I’m sorry, but I know that wouldn’t fix it, and I don’t know what else I could do.”
“Is there anything else you can do?”
Long pause. “I can tell you that I will not harass anyone again.”
She looked down at the tabletop, and then back up into my eyes.
“Kathy, good job. I believe you. I want you to come back.” Then to the parents: “Kathy can come to school today. You have a wonderful daughter here. You should be proud of her.”
“We are,” they said. It was 8:05am.
Lilly’s mom called that morning to say with exasperation and dismay in her voice: “Lilly is not ready to come back, yet.” (I knew she probably had to stay home from work. She was a single working mother.)
Susan’s mom, however, called me mid-morning to tell me how inappropriate my handling of the situation was and to insist that her daughter hadn’t hurt anyone. The next morning, she called again, and asked for an appointment with me.
“Yes. When would you like to come in?”
“As soon as possible. My daughter needs to be in school. Don’t you know that my daughter needs to be in school?”
At 9:15am Susan and both her parents arrived in my office. The mother sat directly across from me, her husband to her right, and Susan off to the left, at the head of the table but a bit back from it, slouching in her chair. Her Mom spoke first.
I turned to Susan and asked, “Do you want to come back?”
“What? What do you want me to say? I want to come back.”
“I don’t want you to say anything in particular. I need to know that things are going to be different.”
At this point her mom broke in, “Look we talked to her,
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