Hairy Incest
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Hairy Incest
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River: (to Shepherd Book) We want you to marry us.
Simon: What? We... no! (pause) What?
River: Two by two... Everyone has a match, a mate, a dopple. I love you.
Simon: No, River... mei-mei... of course, I love you too, but we can't be married. (to Book) She's really crazy! (River kicks Simon in the shin) Ow! Ah, no, I — I don't mean crazy... that's just — you know that's not something brothers and sisters do. I mean, on some planets but only pretty bad ones.
Monica: You were my Midnight Mystery Kisser?!
Ross: You were my first kiss with Rachel?!
Monica: You were my first kiss ever ?!
Chandler: What did I marry into?!
Monica: Here's a few things you can discuss: mucus, fungus, and the idea of me and Ross doing it .
I Have A Full, Hairy Bush — And My Husband LOVES It
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By Alex Alexander — Written on May 16, 2016
The thing about being an ethnic girl is you know really early on that bikinis are not for you. Before you've even figured out what an underwire is (and why you need it), your legs, pits, and crotch sprout dense, thick, black hair . If you're really lucky you can dodge the mustache and unibrow, but you've got to learn to live with a lot of body fur.
Lucky me, I was blessed with an abundance of body hair AND sensitive skin. Nair made me break out. Shaving my bikini line left me with a swathe of ingrown hairs every time. And don't even get me started on waxing.
I have only three words about that particular trend: F*CK. THAT. SH*T.
The idea of being totally hairless doesn't really work when your body hair fights back. And mine? It wasn't going down without a fight. So before I was even out of my teens, I did the only thing I could: I gave up.
My pubic hair starts with a happy trail at my navel, covers my crotch, and swarms all over my inner thighs. You will never see me in a bathing suit without a pair of shorts on top. I might be OK with the hair living there, but nobody should have to see that .
Nobody except my husband , that is.
Back when I was dating, I was always very cautious about how and when I let my lovers see me naked . I usually waited until after we'd slept together a few times, in the dark, so before they could be shocked or grossed out by my ample bush they'd already decided they liked it. My husband was no exception.
Usually these guys would pretty much ignore it. Like, "Yup, there's your vagina , I'm gonna stick my dick in it, but I'm not going to look at it too much." But my husband was a different story. The first time he actually saw me naked, he was all about it . It took about five seconds for him to shove his face down there and start going to town.
I'm not saying you should marry the first guy who thinks you're so hot down there that he wants to eat it all day, but that's pretty much what I did.
Maybe it's because he's always been a beard guy, so having hair around his mouth didn't bother him at all. Maybe it's because he just thought I was so hot that any part of me was hot by association. Maybe it's because body hair isn't actually a big f*cking deal. Whatever the case, he was into it.
In the 10 years we've been together, he's never asked me to shave, vajazzle , or braid that sh*t. He likes getting up in there any way he can, and I LOVE that he loves it.
I love that I don't have to pretend I don't mind the torture of making my crotch somehow socially acceptable by torturing myself. I love that as far as he's concerned, all my body parts — hairy or otherwise — are parts of me , and that's what he likes best.
Sometimes we watch porn together, and when there's a close-up of a totally bald vagina we both get a little grossed out. "That just looks unhealthy," he's said, and he was right.
Maybe because it wasn't the best looking vagina out there, but after getting so familiar and fond of furry vajayjay anything else looks like kind of a bad imitation. Like an actual shaved cat. It just looks... sad. And kind of creepy . Like a super-sized Barbie doll with a dick in it.
My bush and his beard have a lot in common. Lots of hair around a pair of soft, kissable lips, a hole that's warm and wet in the middle, and it grows thick and fast no matter what you do.
His beard is one of many things about him I find irresistible. Just like he can't resist my crotch .
I'm happy I stopped trying to fight the forest in my pants . I'm even happier that my husband is more into it than I am.
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The Gentle People
Courts have permitted the Amish to live outside the law. But in some places, Amish women are sexually assaulted with no recourse
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Mary gave the letter to a friend, who drove 30 minutes northwest of the house where Mary was staying in the Wisconsin town of Viroqua, past a couple of dirt roads, a string of red barns, and frozen cornfields. He waited until nearly midnight on a cold evening last February, and then put the letter in the mailbox at the white shingled home of Sam Mast, an Amish minister in the community where Mary's family lived during her teenage years.
Mary's father was killed in a buggy accident when she was 5; she remembers him pulling her onto his lap and fondling her at their home in the small town of Sugar Grove, Pa. After her father's death, Mary's family moved 100 miles south to New Wilmington, Pa., another small town, where the back roads are filled with brown buggies and white shingled homes. There, Mary's two older cousins and brothers began molesting her. Johnny told the police that his cousins encouraged him, "as far as breaking her in." (The cousins denied that, but admitted to molesting Mary.) By the time Mary was in her teens, she was being raped regularly by Johnny, who is seven years older, and her brother Eli, who is four years older. Once, Eli climbed on top of her while Johnny held her down.
There was no escape. Mary was grabbed in the bedroom, in the barn, in the outhouse, milking the cows in the morning, and on her way to school. "It did not matter how hard I tried to hide," Mary would explain in her letter to Mast, which she also sent to other Amish clergy. "If I ran upstairs to go to bed or to hide because I was at home with the boys, I'd be locking my door and turn around and there was someone crawling through my window. So my windows were always locked . . . Then they started taking off my door."
To the hordes of tourists who travel to Pennsylvania Dutch country each year to go to quilting bees and shop for crafts, the Gentle People, as the Amish are known, represent innocence. They are a people apart, removed in place and arrested in time. They reject the corruptions of modernity-the cars that have splintered American communities and the televisions that have riveted the country's youth. The Amish way of life is grounded in agriculture, hard work, and community. Its deliberate simplicity takes the form of horse-drawn buggies, clothes that could have come from a Vermeer painting, and a native German dialect infused with English words.
The myth of the Amish is amplified in movies like Witness and television shows like Amish in the City. It's also fed by a series of practices that reinforce the group's insularity. The Amish want to be left alone by the state-and to a remarkable extent, they are. They don't fight America's wars or, for the most part, contribute to Social Security. In 1972, noting their "excellent record as law-abiding and generally self-sufficient members of society," the Supreme Court allowed the Amish to take their children out of school after eighth grade.
The license the Amish have been granted rests on the trust that the community will police itself, with Amish bishops and ministers acting in lieu of law enforcement. Yet keeping order comes hard to church leaders. "The Amish see the force of law as contrary to the Christian spirit," said Donald Kraybill, a professor at Elizabethtown College in Pennsylvania and an expert on the group. As a result, the Amish shy away from sending people to prison and the system of punishment of "the English," as the Amish call other Americans. Once a sinner has confessed, and his repentance has been deemed genuine, every member of the Amish community must forgive him.
This approach is rooted in the Amish notion of Gelassenheit, or submission. Church members abide by their clergymen; children obey their parents; sisters mind their brothers; and wives defer to their husbands (divorce is taboo). With each act of submission, the Amish follow the lesson of Jesus when he died on the cross rather than resist his adversaries.
But can a community govern itself by Jesus's teaching of mercy alone? It is sinful for the Amish to withhold forgiveness-so sinful that anyone who refers to a past misdeed after the Amish penalty for it has ended can be punished in the same manner as the original sinner. "That's a big thing in the Amish community," Mary said. "You have to forgive and forgive."
In some church districts, which encompass only two or three dozen families scattered along back roads, there appear to be many crimes like Johnny and Eli's to forgive. No statistics are available, but according to one Amish counselor who works with troubled church members across the Midwest, sexual abuse of children is "almost a plague in some communities." Some police forces and district attorneys do their best to step in, though they are rarely welcomed. Others are slow to investigate or quick to let off Amish offenders with light punishments. When that happens, girls like Mary are failed three times: by their families, their church, and their state.
Kathryn Byler, who counts Mary and her family as distant kin, lives more than 600 miles from them, in Morrow County, Ohio. The Amish don't own phones (some use them only for emergencies). Still, news gets around. Kathryn knew Mary's story.
Before her father's death, Mary told her mother, Sally, that he was molesting her. At first, Sally didn't believe her daughter. Mary said that her mother told her, "He says he's sorry and you have to forgive him." After her husband's death, Sally raised Mary and her eight sons on her own. Her household wasn't the tidiest, and the children didn't always listen to her. Sally got particularly frustrated with Mary, who had inherited her large almond-shaped eyes and tendency to talk out of turn.
When Mary's brothers began rapi
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