Hairless pussy for life :: an update

If you read my first post on this, you’ll know that after a long love/hate relationship, I finally broke up with Wax (waxing my pussy, that is).

Had I been a true masochist perhaps I could have withstood the relationship for years to come but I was completely over it. It was a take-take relationship on Wax’s part.  He would painfully take and take, leaving me in tears with big red lumps on my entertainment centre and while there might be a few good days that stretched into a week, before long I’d become prickly and would nervously text to organise another dreaded date. He kept me hanging. As you may have read, the anticipation before my dates with Wax produced in me copious amounts of anxiety and sweat.

As I'm a total slut, when I heard about the new guy in town, SHR (aka super hair removal), I couldn’t help myself. I asked around, I Googled, I Facebooked, I stalked SHR like only a seasoned stalker could. It turned out that just like Ryan Gosling in Drive, he was the real deal. Offering the kind of treatment no girl can refuse. He was more expensive than Wax but his service far superior. There was light at the end of my tunnel, maybe I could finally fuck Wax off. I won’t go into all the details about the procedure and my sweat production here again because you can waste some valuable company time and read all about that over here.

However, I promised you an update. I’ve left if four months because things are so smooth and easy with SHR that a monthly update would be all of one line. Jokes aside, he and I are truly in love. It’s not a relationship that will last because he’s a little boring (oh god, why do we always want the arseholes?!) but he’s oh so kind, he doesn’t make me itch, he gives me space, he even cares for my safety and makes me wear sexy glasses every time we meet. Our monthly date is now a joy, not like the one with Wax in which I thought I’d die a slow death.

Each session we’ve upped the heat a little to make sure we’re really getting the most out of his skills. Next week will see our fifth date and given that I’ve barely any hair left (except for my landing strip because most men need directions), I should only need one more date after that. As all the great (paid) romantic love stories go, following this I’ll set SHR free. He ain’t coming back, except for one quickie every year on a date of my choosing.