Tiny Hairless Pussy Stories

Tiny Hairless Pussy Stories

News & Politics

Culture

Food

Science & Health

Life Stories

Video

About

Profile
Login/Sign Up
Sticky Header: off
Night Mode: off
Saved Articles
Go Ad-Free
Logout

Sticky Header

Night Mode

Related Topics ------------------------------------------
Love And Sex
Sex

I have never been interested in blonds," said Ted. "Never! I mean, I've
tried it, sort of the way gay guys have gone out with women, just to see
what it felt like. But it didn't work."
Ted and I were sitting outside on unsteady green plastic chairs at
a brew pub in North Beach. It was a freezing spring evening and gusts of fog were whipping up Columbus Street. He was here to talk about his penchant for Asian women -- a proclivity I'd started to notice in college among the frat boys, and as far as I could tell had pretty much evolved into an
obsession for certain white guys.
I had two feelings about this. One was complete revulsion. The other was relief, since the kind of men who went for Asian women were not men I
wanted to have anything to do with, so good riddance if they recused
themselves from my dating pool.
Political correctness and dating have never mixed, but that doesn't keep people from trying to maintain appearances to the contrary. So far, I hadn't found a single man who would go on record for having an Asian fixation. Ted was different. Our mutual friend Carol had told me to expect honesty, and I, in turn, was prepared to be confrontational with a guy I assumed would be an overfed, overgrown Delta Phi reject.
But even before I met Ted, Carol had revealed a few things that had thrown me. Despite being a bona fide yuppie, with an annual six-figure income from his job as a financial consultant, Ted did not own a TV or a car. For entertainment, he shunned the opera and blockbuster movies,
preferring instead fringe performance art and experimental dance, which he attended every weekend. He was attracted to this alternative culture, Carol said, because he felt it was so far removed from his own life and experience
growing up in Montana -- he couldn't believe people did those things onstage,
like strip, scream, sing, whatever. Afterward, if he was confused, he
would approach the performers and politely but insistently ask them what
the point of their show was.
Over a pitcher of pale ale, I tried to size him up. He was about my
height, with nicely pressed, Gap-type clothes and expensive wire-rim
spectacles. Occasionally, during our conversation, he would pull out a
Chap-Stick and rub it thoughtfully over his lower lip. He looked not so
much like Frat Boy Extraordinaire but like Bill Gates. And he seemed to find it
not in the least bit odd to chat with a strange woman about his sex life.
Taking my cue from him, I said, "I, um, find this refreshing that you
would talk to me openly." I took a sip of my beer and tried to appear
professional.
"Sure," Ted said pleasantly. With no further preamble, he began.
"I'm kind of a soft guy. I really find American women overly aggressive, and I've had some bad experiences."
"Oh?" I wasn't sure I wanted to hear this. Had he been raped?
"I went on two dates with a Western woman recently. On the second
date she wanted to have sex. I mean, I think that's just too fast, but she was
pretty insistent. I went along with it, and it wasn't good at all. I
couldn't maintain an erection." He frowned at a group of drunken Scottish
tourists shouting at the adjacent plastic table, blowing cigarette
smoke in our direction.
"Really." I wrote that down, and then stopped. "Was she disappointed?"
"She had a good time, I mean several good times, if you know what I
mean. She did ask if everything was OK. I just told her I wasn't really into it that night."
"Why did you have sex with her if you didn't want to?" I tried to
control my irritation, which despite Ted's affability, I knew was going to hit me at some point during this exchange. I envisioned a blond naked woman,
stretched out alongside Ted -- a woman who had probably taken his softie a
lot more personally than she'd let on, and hadn't had "several good times,"
or at least as many as Ted seemed to think.
"Well, I am a man," Ted said mildly. "It was being offered."
I sighed. "Many white women find this very insulting," I said. I
suddenly remembered the black woman who confronted my blond friend Lisa and her
black boyfriend on the streets of Berkeley. And then an army of short men popped in my head." It seems a direct rejection of what American women are, or what they stand for or what they want to be -- strong, independent, assertive, equal. We assume that guys who date Asians are looking for a little docile maid."
"Really?" Ted seemed genuinely surprised. "Well, that's not the
case with me. If anything, it's me who's doing the serving. And they make all the decisions, like where to eat and what to do.
"There's two types of Asian women," he continued. "Those that were born
here, of immigrant parents, and those that were born over there. The ones
recently immigrated will date either Western or Asian men, but the
American-born tend to find Asian men too soft and effeminate. They want a
stronger kind of man, so I think I'm sort of a compromise." He leaned over
to the drunk tourist group. "Could you not blow your smoke over here? Thank
you."
I rearranged my notes. I wasn't sure where to begin. "What kind of Asians are we talking about?"
"Chinese," he said firmly. "Koreans are thought to be the most
beautiful, but I think they wear too much makeup. I remember when I was an adolescent boy, watching ABC's 'Wide World of Sports.' And those cute little Chinese gymnasts, with their small breasts. I remember being so excited by them. I don't like large breasts -- they're so sloppy or something."
I wrote that down. He added, "You know, I can't speak for every
guy, but for me it's a real personal interest in Asian culture as a whole --"
"Is that right?" I looked at him levelly.
"Uh-huh. I've spent a lot of time there, and I like the simplicity of their life, the family values -- because I don't have that in my own life. My parents are together and all that, but we're not close. And I like the idea of having someone who's not like me, who's not another professional who works all the time, being a part of my life."
"So you want a bossy housewife. And the servitude clichi -- that's all a clichi?"
"I don't know where that came from," Ted said. "The American-born
Asians, that plain doesn't exist with them. You serve them." He laughed.
"Sure," he said. "There is something more exotic about Asian women. The physical is part of my attraction, the sexual is part of it, too."
"Go on." A homeless man approached us suddenly with an outstretched
hand.
Ted smiled at him. "Could you not bother us? We're having a
conversation. Thank you." The man shuffled away. "OK, let's see, the sexual
part. Asian women: They don't have any sexual hang-ups. They'll do
anything, and I think it's because their culture wasn't based in
Christianity, with all the guilt and repercussions. They tend to be more
experienced sexually and anticipate what you want."
"That sounds kind of servile to me," I said, as Ted filled my glass. I
shivered.
"Well, it's not really. I think that's the biggest misconception.
On a day-to-day basis, I give in to whatever my girlfriend wants."
"Getting back to the sex thing," I said, wrapping my sweater around me
tighter, "how about I just throw out some more misconceptions? How about
hair?"
"Absolutely. I hate body hair. Hairy cooter, big soft-on."
I wrote that down. "Better stay away from French women," I said. "OK.
What else?"
He pondered. "They have beautiful, smooth skin. They age way, way
better than Western women. And of course the problem with large breasts, which
Western women tend to have, is that they never stay firm."
I scribbled that down, too. "Someday, Ted, you too will not be firm."
"I know. My center of gravity is already shifting. Oh, well."
I hesitated. "How about the rumor that Asian women are, well, tighter?
Because they're smaller?"
"No," he said, and emptied his glass. "And I lament over that, I
really do."
I read over my notes. Despite myself, and all my preconceived
notions of Ted, I had to admit I really admired him. He was completely, thoroughly and unapologetically honest, without meanness or guile. How many men would truly admit what they wanted from a woman, physically or otherwise? And he had a surprising gentleness that confounded me. I thought about him at the
performance-art shows, patiently but doggedly grilling the actors on their
creative choices.
"I just have to say one thing," I said, still looking at my scribbles.
"'Likes no hair. Small breasts. Tiny stature. Smooth skin. Ages
well.' Doesn't that sound like a description of, well, a 10-year-old?" I
hesitated, choosing my words carefully. "Do you think something in your
sexual psyche is connected to pedophilia?"
"Maybe," Ted said cheerfully. "I've never thought about it, but I
suppose it does sound like that." He seemed as unconcerned as if I'd just remarked on his taste in shoes. "Would you care for another beer? I'll be right
back." He made his way to the bar, and the formerly aggressive tourists
politely moved to one side, letting him pass.

Copyright © 2022 Salon.com, LLC. Reproduction of material from any Salon pages without written permission is strictly prohibited. SALON ® is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office as a trademark of Salon.com, LLC. Associated Press articles: Copyright © 2016 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

The Stranger

EverOut

Portland Mercury

Savage Love

Hump

Bold Type Tickets

Slog

Savage Love

Slog AM/PM

News

Weed

Music

Sticker Patrol

Arts

Food & Drink

Top Events Today and This Week

Live Music

•

Arts

•

Food

•

& More!

Masthead

Ad Info & Rates

Jobs at The Stranger

Contact

Privacy Policy

Terms of Use

Takedown Policy

All contents © Index Newspapers LLC
800 Maynard Ave S, Suite 200, Seattle, WA 98134

Extras

Dec 15, 2005 at 4:00 am

Tags:

Extras

Savage Love Extra

Savage Love

The Stranger depends on your continuing support to provide articles like this one. In return, we pledge our ongoing commitment to truthful, progressive journalism and serving our community. So if you’re able, please consider a small recurring contribution. Thank you—you are appreciated!

is a proud member of the

media network

Masthead

Ad Info & Rates

Jobs at The Stranger

Contact

Privacy Policy

Terms of Use

Takedown Policy

All contents © Index Newspapers LLC
800 Maynard Ave S, Suite 200, Seattle, WA 98134

My humiliating loss-of-virginity story is so incredibly unbelievable that it’s virtually an urban legend among my friends. But I swear that each and every word of this is true.
When I was in high school I was awarded the opportunity to go on a foreign exchange to a lovely tropical paradise—ah, Brazil—for senior year. As high-school girls are prone to do, I met a guy, another exchange student. We were the queen and king of virgin teenagers: I never had ANY dates in high school and neither did he. After the first kiss all thoughts went to sex almost immediately. We decided that AS SOON AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE we were going to lose our virginities to each other.
We first tried at his house. We thought the shower would be a “sexy” place to do it and that the rushing water would also be a nice cover for any strange noises. In this particular tropical country, showerheads are often electric and some fool had made theirs out of metal . I touched the showerhead briefly and was shocked so severely that I fell and spun out across the floor. At that point his host mother barged in, dragged me out of the house by my feet (buck naked, mind you), called me a ”whore,” and kicked me to the curb.
We came up with another brilliant idea: We would borrow something similar to a rowboat from a friend, paddle out onto the local lake, and get the deed done. This boat was something like 20 feet long, about 1 foot deep, and about 4 feet wide, and made of wood. We brought the necessary items: a bottle of liquor, a joint, and a condom. We paddled out and were almost instantly naked. I stuffed our clothes under the seat in the front of the boat. After one slug of the booze and one puff off the joint, we commenced to clumsily roll around in the bottom of the boat. We were about to do the deed when I told him my ass was getting wet.
“That’s supposed to happen,” he said.
A little lesson in boats: They sink slowly until they’re about half full of water, then they go down like lead weights. I was a little preoccupied with getting it on to notice that the boat was filling from the rear until the fateful moment of entry. I figured I’d better be on my back for this moment, so I let myself lay back and I’ll be damned if my hair wasn’t floating about my head. I threw him off me, jumped up hollering about the boat sinking, and grabbed a paddle to head for shore.
We didn’t make it. We sunk. Like the Titanic . A few minutes later we were standing on shore bare-naked. Yes, we had to walk home bare-naked. We decided to go to my house instead of his because we figured that the people I was staying with would be more understanding or easier to lie to. Upon arrival, the house was dark and it looked as if they weren’t home. He asked me to unlock the gate. I said, “Where, exactly, would I have put the keys?” So, he had to boost me over the gate so I could unlock it from the other side.
I landed on the other side and was about to unlock the gate when my host father and brother walked around the corner of the house. They asked what I’d been doing.
I was about to say “No” when Andrew shouts from the other side of the fence, “Yeah, I’m here, can you let me in please?”
When he walked in naked, they lost it laughing at us. But they never actually said anything or asked any “real” questions. For days afterward, my girlfriends kept asking, “So… did you?” and I honestly didn’t know. In the excitement, I couldn’t remember if he ever got it in or not.
I did eventually lose my virginity. In my host family’s house, on a marble floor, while watching an AC/DC concert broadcast from São Paulo. The family graciously gave us lots of alone time and pretended that they never noticed.
After a brief period of fooling around in the bedroom at a party, this girl I had just met decided that we should “take a drive.” We found a dark spot off a country road and continued fooling around in the back of my car. She pulled out the condoms she bought at a gas station and we started to do the deed. As things started getting hot and heavy, my foot slipped off the center hump on the floorboard. I lost my balance and did a face plant into the side window. My nose started to bleed all over her head. I was glad that bleeding all over her did not deter her from wanting to “see” me again.
I was 15 and my BF was 17. We were at a party and we snuck off into a bedroom and pushed a dresser against the door. After some serious dry humping it was time to get naked. I had never seen my BF’s cock before, just kinda felt it through his clothes, and suddenly there was this GIGANTIC cock in front of me. In my mind, I think this is about the worst thing that could happen to a virgin. I was already scared it was going to hurt and then I see this trouser anaconda flop out of ol’ BF’s pants. I went on to have the single-worst sexual experience of my life—let’s just say I didn’t do a lot of walking for a couple days. You may think that this huge dick was just my perception, as I hadn’t seen a lot of dick by age 15, but I am now 28 and have seen plenty of dick, and his is still by far the biggest I have ever seen.
Now I find myself thinking… Do I still have his number?
I was 16, and my girlfriend and I planned on having sex—my first time, not hers—at a party where we were guaranteed a room to stay the night. I showed up to find my girlfriend pissed drunk. I was bummed, but I was so eager to lose my virginity that we had sex anyway. She passed out and I went back downstairs to hang out with friends. At that point I learned from other people there that she had gone down on some other guy in the bathroom before I showed up. The next morning she woke up and asked me if we had sex last night. I was so mortified that I
Futanari Mutual Penetration
Big Breasted Shemale
Petite Ebony Shemale

Tiny Hairless Pussy Stories

Report Page