Cathy Ann

I met Cathy Ann at a disco in New York's meat-packing district. It was a hot sultry August night, a Friday night. I paid the cover, got the back of my hand stamped--silly ritual--and circled around the dance floor to the bar. Strobe lights flashed on the dancers. You saw them kaleidoscopically, in colored fragments. Cathy Ann was sitting at the bar nursing a vodka tonic. I was drawn to her at once. Even before I ever laid eyes on her I felt her presence. Hairy women seem to give off a certain electricity that makes me alert.

Cathy Ann had shoulder-length, straight brown hair, worn loose. Her eyebrows were bushy, wild, and connected in the middle with a thick dark fringe of hair. She had a very feminine-looking mustache, a woman's mustache: her upper lip was entirely fringed with dark straight silky hairs. The dark down that lined her jaw from her ears almost to her chin was long enough to tug. She sipped her drink. A droplet clung enticingly to one of her mustache hairs. Her tongue flicked up and licked it off with the darting quickness of a snake.

I introduced myself. Cathy Ann reciprocated. "What are you drinking?" I asked. I ordered another vodka tonic for her and a glass of the house white for me. Normally vodka rocks is my drink. But I thought I might get lucky with Cathy Ann. I didn't want to get too drunk to take advantage of whatever opportunities presented themselves.

She was wearing a short-sleeved black knit top, a black pleated skirt, black pantyhose, and black half-heeled pumps. That her arms were exceptionally hairy was impossible for anyone to ignore. Dark tufts sprouted from her knuckles. Dark flecks of hair covered the backs of her hands. At her slender wrists, the hair suddenly grew longer, thicker, curlier, and as it spread up her forearms its lushness only increased, giving her a flagrantly feral quality. Her upper forearm hair was at least three or four inches long, and it was smoothed straight, perhaps an attempt to give it a lower profile. Even so, it formed a dark dense carpet with a feel factor that promised to be off the charts.

We chatted about this and that, I bought her another drink, and then I just came right out and said it: "I love how hairy your arms are."

"Really?" she asked. She couldn't believe it. "Most people think it's gross."

"I think it's beautiful," I said. I took her hand in mine and began to stroke the hair on her arm. It actually tickled my palm. I raked my fingers through the thickest parts of it, and it spiked out tantalizingly.

Cathy Ann smiled. "You know, I'm hairy all over."

"Really?" I said.

She nodded. "I don't shave. You should see my armpits. They're hairier than a man's."

"Is that an invitation?" I asked.

She smiled coyly.

"What about your legs?" I asked.

"My legs, too."

"Tell me how hairy they are."

"The hair is really long and thick. I love to run my fingers through it."

My swollen cock was straining against my pants. I made no attempt to conceal it.

"Would you like to dance?" I asked.

I followed her out onto the dance floor. It was packed. The strobe was flashing. The great thing about strobe lights is that since people can only see you in glimpses, you can dance unself-consciously in public. She wasn't a great dancer. Neither was I. We just did our own thing. I had my hands on her hips. Her hands were on my shoulders. We were just standing in place swaying to the music, which was ear-splittingly loud. I pulled her to me, thrust my crotch up against hers, and ran my hands up and down her hairy arms. This was hair you could really feel. I mussed it up and smoothed it out. I tugged it gently.

"I feel like you're fucking my hairy arms," Cathy Ann shouted to be heard above the music. I planted my lips on hers. Her mouth opened to receive my tongue. I could feel her mustache hairs tickling my smooth-shaven upper lip. My fingertips grazed the thick down on her cheeks as she sucked my tongue. I raked my fingers through her eyebrows. Her long hairs sprouted up wildly, like those of an ancient Greek wood nymph.

"Let's go out of here," I said.

She balked. "I'm meeting someone here," she said. "My boyfriend."

"Is it serious?"

"We've been going out for a long time." She excused herself to go to the ladies room. I returned to the bar. A moment later, she reappeared. "The toilet in the ladies' room is gross. The lock on the men's room is broken. Can you come back with me and stand guard while I pee?"

Who says chivalry isn't dead? Cathy Ann and I wended our way through the dancers to the dark narrow corridor where the bathrooms were. Not only was the lock on the men's room broken, but the door didn't close all the way. You could see in. "I've really gotta go!" Cathy Ann exclaimed. I couldn't get the door closed from the outside. I entered the men's room with her, grasped the doorknob, and yanked it closed. When I let go it popped back open. I yanked it closed again.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" I asked.

"This toilet is filthy. Oh God, I'm going to pee in my pants."

"Take off your pantyhose and your panties and just squat over the toilet without touching it," I suggested helpfully.

She looked at me. "You'll see me naked!" As I grinned, she kicked off her pumps and stripped off her pantyhose. Her legs were entirely covered with long coarse curly hairs. The hair sprouted from her toes, and flourished at her ankles in curly profusion. It spread up the swell of her calf, swirled around her knees, and lined her thighs in one-to-two-inch curls. Down came the panties. She promptly covered her cunt with her skirt so I only got a momentary glimpse of a dark brown triangle overspilling the natural creases of her crotch, but it was enough to tell that this woman had serious hair between her legs.

She squatted over the toilet, holding up her skirt with one hand. I relaxed my grip on the doorknob. The door stayed in place, freeing my hand. I began to strip off my clothes.

"What are you doing?" Cathy Ann gasped.

"I have to fuck you," I said straight out. Then she started to pee. She squatted even lower and lifted her skirt even higher as the first golden gush streamed into the filthy toilet, and I could better see how thickly haired her crotch was. I thrust my hand between her legs. I could feel the forceful jet of her piss against my hand. Her bush was so thick that grabbing a handful of hair was too tempting to pass up. Cathy Ann's clit was quite long, nearly an inch I guessed, and quite erect. I held it gently between my thumb and forefinger and jerked her off.

"Oh fuck," she hissed.

I pulled her top up over her head. Thick tufts of hair filled her armpits. They had an incredible musky smell. I buried my face in each of them, licking and swirling the hair around with my tongue. I knew her tits were small even before I unhooked her bra, but they were beautiful, tipped with inch-long nipples, each surrounded by long corkscrewing hairs. But her entire breasts were hairy, and her chest between them contained a dense forest that I caressed hungrily. I sucked her hairy nipples hard as she arched her back to give me better access. I raked her thick curly treasure trail with my fingers.

"Take off your skirt," I commanded.

Somebody rapped on the door. It held.

"We're busy!" I shouted. "Come back in ten minutes."

"Oh, man, I gotta go."

"Ten minutes!"

I unzipped Cathy Ann's skirt and yanked it down. Entirely naked, she was a hairy wonder to behold. With her wild bushy eyebrow, her ticklish mustache, her hairy face, her incredibly hairy arms, those lush thickets of hair in her armpits. her hairy tits and chest with her long nipples engulfed in hair, her profusely hairy crotch, and her curly-haired legs, I had no choice but to push her up against the porcelain-tiled wall, grab her hairy ass cheeks with my hands, and thrust my throbbing cock into her to the hilt. I could feel her thick pubic hair against mine as I pumped her with piston-like thrusts. Her cunt hair was still wet from her pee, but I didn't care. It made fucking her dirtier. I spread her ass cheeks wide, felt the long thick curly hair sprouting in her ass crack, and then plunged a finger into her asshole. "Oh God!" she gasped and began humping back even more lewdly.

I turned her around. "Stick your ass out," I ordered. She did as she was told. "Your ass is incredibly hairy," I observed. "Spread your cheeks so I can see just how hairy you are down there." Again, she obeyed. Her puckered pit was fringed by thick dark hairs that spread across her ass cheeks. The hair in her ass crack grew in a curly clump between her ass cheeks above her asshole. I tugged at those hairs: I find them hot.

I pushed my cock into her hairy shitter. There was some resistance at first, but then the swollen head of my cock penetrated her anus. After that, I slid right in, feeling the hair in her ass crack against my shaft as I slowly burrowed deeper and deeper until my balls were brushing her hairy cunt from above. Her hairy arms were folded against the bathroom wall. I ran my fingers through her thick forearm hair while thrusting into her hairy asshole. I felt her bushy armpits. I squeezed her hairy tits. Then I reached down between her legs, feeling my way through the dense thicket covering her crotch until I found that amazingly long clit. It grew as hard as a little cock between my fingers. I jerked her off while I fucked her in the ass ever-quickening thrusts. "Oh God," she moaned. "I'm cumming."

At that moment, my cock twitched violently in her asshole as I filled her with my milky load.

We kissed, our tongues intertwining.

"I've got to get out of here," she said.

She hurriedly dressed. I did, too. And just in time: the guy who had wanted to pee before was back. He gave us an odd look as we emerged from the men's room together. Then he shrugged and disappeared inside.

"Wait here. Let me go out alone," Cathy Ann said.

I lingered in the shadows of the corridor, watching her as she entered the throng. A good-looking guy came up to her. He was upset, yelling something, arms flailing. Cathy Ann stabbed her finger in my direction. He glanced where she pointed. He seemed mollified. He put his arm around her and kissed her neck. He looked at her. His fingers touched her neck. He rubbed his fingertips together. She was dewy from the fucking I had given her. Perhaps he smelled her fuck smell, or her pee. His nostrils seemed to flair. Then she took his hand and drew him into the crowd.