Wallflower Blooming

This story would fit under any number of categories... first time, romance, fetish and erotic couplings would all be accurate. I am submitting it under the first time label and wherever the good folks at literotica choose to place it is fine with me.

However, the woman in question is what you would have to call a natural woman, one who chose to not remove her body hair. If stories written about such a woman offends you, you may not care for this too much.

Since I consider this a touching story of innocence and sexual awakening involving very insecure people, I think that calling this an erotic coupling of a budding romance involving a virgin would be a far more accurate description that simply lumping it in as a 'fetish' story.

..........

To almost everyone else, Sharon Richburg was an ugly duckling, but to Ray Mundy, she was anything but unattractive. In fact, to Ray she was a vision of beauty, and in the summer of 1969 he finally got up the nerve to let her know.

...

Chapter One: I always watched her.

I had moved to Colonie when my father's company got relocated four years ago, and I had to admit that it was the worst possible time for me to have to make such a drastic change. It wasn't like I was the most popular guy at my old school back in Columbus, Ohio, but at least I had some friends.

Here in upstate New York, I was a fish out of water. Socially awkward at best anyway, I struggled mightily the first couple of years, and I always suspected that the stress had contributed to the horrible case of acne that I had developed just in time to impress my new classmates upon my arrival.

Eventually, the acne went away and I was able to make a couple of friends, so my high school years ended up to be halfway decent in the end. I hadn't done very well in the romance department though, but maybe that was because I always had been infatuated by one particular girl.

She was an "older woman" technically, because she was a sophomore when I arrived at the school as a geeky freshman, so I never really thought I had a chance at her. I did befriend her brother John, who was in my class, although to be honest I didn't really like him very much.

My sole reason for hanging around him was to get the opportunity to see his sister from time to time, although it wasn't as if the guys were lining up to date her or anything. She was as unpopular as I was, I suppose, partly because of how smart she was and partly because of the way she looked.

The very first moment that I laid eyes on her, I was in love. To me, she was so beautiful that on that day I followed her down the hall at school until she went into her class, and had to run at top speed to make it back to my own class in time.

I spent the rest of the day trying to see her again, and when I did see her in the lunchroom I tried to be casual as I asked somebody if he knew her name.

"Who? Froggy Bear?" the kid asked me. "What a freak she is!"

"Froggy Bear?"

"You ever hear her talk?" he said. "She sounds like that guy in Sha Na Na - you know? The guy that sings that low part in the song 'Blue Moon'? You gotta hear her to believe it. If she is a she, that is. Look how broad her shoulders are, and check out those arms of hers. She's as hairy as a bear."

I hadn't heard her talk, but I certainly had seen her arms, and what he thought was ugly and disgusting was something I found incredibly attractive. Her arms were coated with the most erotic looking dark hair, from her wrists to her bicep where the sleeve of her blouse cut off the view.

As I watched the girl sitting by herself eating her lunch, my heart was racing. Behind her large tortoise glasses she had the biggest brown eyes imaginable, and the sight of the down that circled the front of her ears gave me an instant erection. Her hair color was as dark as brown could get, and she wore it long with bangs that stopped just above the most luxuriously thick eyebrows that I had ever seen.

The kid that I asked the question of was still babbling away, making fun of the girl, but I didn't care. I knew what I liked, and I liked this girl. Liked wasn't even the right word. I loved her.

I went to the library and found a school yearbook, and although it took a while to look at all of the pictures of the previous freshman class, I finally found her. Her hair was a little shorter then, and she still had a very sad look about her, but it was her.

S. Richburg.

It being such a large school, they packed all the 150 pictures of the freshman in so tight a space that they only gave the initial of the first names of the kids. It was an indignity that I would feel myself later that year when that edition of the annual came out, but for now all I knew was that my goddess had a first name that started with an s.

The next day, I found her in the same place as she was the day before, sitting alone as she ate, but she was almost done by the time I got there and sat myself down.

The next day I tracked her down at lunch again, and when I tried to be my usual charming (or so I thought) self again I was greeted with a sullen silence at first. When I continued to try and impress her she got up from her seat and glared at me across the table.

"You might think you're funny but you aren't," she snapped. "Just leave me alone."

..

Chapter Two: Less than an auspicious start.

Despite my being humiliated by her in the cafeteria, I didn't give up hope, eventually befriending her brother, and the more she saw me, the more she liked me.

Well, liked might be a strong word. I don't think Sharon liked every many people, but let's just say that she tolerated me. I would hang around the Richburg household whenever I could, putting up with Sharon's brother for the opportunity to get glimpses of her and to try and get her to like me.

The cards were stacked against me, and the major obstacle was the fact that Sharon was a year older than me. Since I was far from the most mature guy on the planet to begin with, this left me at a great disadvantage.

Sharon also was a very defensive person, and when I started to pay attention to the things that people would say about her behind her back, or even loud enough for her to hear, the fact that she had put up a wall around herself was no surprise.

How long did I try to get through to Sharon? A few weeks? A month or two? Hardly. Try over four years. There was a point that I knew that it wasn't normal for me to continue to pursue a girl that had no interest in me, but I felt powerless to stop.

Did I date other girls? Of course I did. I would often double date with John, trying to make it clear to Sharon that I was a guy that other girls found interesting, but that approach failed miserably. If she knew anything about it, she didn't let on.

It finally struck me that perhaps I could win her heart by trying to get involved in things that she was interested in. That was insanely easy, because there was only one thing that Sharon was interested in. Animals, and in particular, cats.

The Richburg home was a refuge for any stray cat that Sharon ran into, and beyond that Sharon volunteered at a animal rescue center and a no-kill shelter. When I mentioned to her in passing one day how much I shared her concern over the overpopulation of animals that caused so many to be put to death, I finally struck a chord within her. Somewhat.

Sharon got me to volunteer at the no-kill shelter. How much did I want to be around Sharon? Did you ever clean a litter box? How about a lot of litter boxes and whole lot of times? I got so used to the aroma of ammonia and cat pee that I hardly noticed it after a while.

Three nights a week all during my senior year, while my classmates were out drinking, dating or working jobs that paid money, I was cleaning animal cages and feeding kitties. Lucky for me I liked cats. Not as much as I liked Sharon, but I still liked them quite a bit.

Did I ever ask Sharon if she wanted to go out on a date? Sure I did. Countless times, but she never took me seriously. At least that was what I told myself when she would gently rebuff me.

It wasn't like she had a bunch of suitors lined up, because according to her brother John, she had never gone on a date and only had a couple of friends, both of them being nerdy girls just like her.

"Why are you interested in my sister?" John asked after fielding my not-so-subtle inquiry about Sharon during a guy to guy conversation in his bedroom one night. "Don't tell me you're hot for her? I'll barf!"

"No, it's just that I feel bad for her. She's a nice girl," I said, lying more than a little.

"I think she's a lezzie," John suggested. "The only people she hangs around with are those two homely broads in her debate class, and I wouldn't be surprised if they were all lez."

"I think you're reaching now. Besides, maybe she would hang around guys more if they always weren't putting her down all the time. You know how they are and what they say about her."

"Sharon's alright, I guess," John said with faint praise before feeling the need to dump on her like everyone else in a lame attempt at humor. "But she's such a dog. Must be from hanging around the kennels so much."

"She's kind of cute in her own way," I said in defense, not willing to tell him how I really felt.

"I guess Sharon was okay when she was younger," John admitted, before making a beer-fueled admission. "Promise not to tell anybody if I tell you something?"

"Promise."

"I drilled a hole in the wall over there, behind the bookcase," he said. "I would peek in on her when I get to feeling horny."

"Oh, really?" I asked in as nonchalantly a manner as I could manage, resisting the urge to go over and push the bookcase aside and try to look in at her myself. "That's why you're lucky to have a sister. Why did you go through all that if you don't think she's cute?"

"Oh man, I knew I shouldn't have started talking," John said, ruing having shared the six-pack of Rhinegold with me that loosened his tongue.

"Why not? I tell you all sorts of embarrassing shit about myself," I reminded him.

"Okay, but if you ever tell another soul about this, I'll kill you."

"Deal."

"I don't know of you ever noticed this, because she usually dresses so she's covered from neck to toe, but my sister is really hairy."

"Gee, I mean I guess I might have noticed that she had a little hair on her arms once," I admitted.

"A lot of hair, man," John said. "Not just there either. She has hair under her arms too."

"Everybody does," I reminded him.

"Not like Sharon," John assured me. "Most girls shave their pits too."

"Lois Cannon doesn't anymore either," I told John, mentioning a girl at school that I had noticed had adopted a hippie look common to the era. "Neither does Joann Armao."

"My sister has NEVER shaved," John informed me. "Not ever. I heard my mother riding her about it one time. That's why she never swims in the pool. Even her legs are hairy"

"So? Yours are too."

"Hilarious. It's not just her armpits," John said in a whisper, like Sharon could hear him through the wall. "You should see her pussy."

I should, I wanted to say.

"What about it?"

"Well, I've never actually seen it, but I've looked in at her when she was walking around her room in her panties and it's unbelievable. She wears old lady style panties and still the hair sticks out everywhere. Out the sides and up over the top. She's even got a trail of hair going up from her bush right up to her belly button."

"Sounds like this doesn't offend you very much," I opined. "Seeing as how you go to such lengths to check her out."

"I know," John said, in one of the few honest moments I had ever gotten from him. "It kind of turns me on a little. The hair I mean. You know? Weird, huh?"

"No, I admitted. "I think its sexy too. Wish I could see her myself."

"You do? Really? I thought that there might be something wrong with me or something. You should have said something before. She put a picture up over the hole," John lamented. "Last month. I don't think she did it because she saw the hole, because I'm sure she would tell my folks or she would kick my ass if she found out. That's why you can't tell."

"Don't worry," I assured John.

"It's not like I think she's good looking or anything," John added in clarification. "She's as flat as a board. Nothing like Lois Cannon. Now here? She's got a rack on her."

I agreed and dropped the subject, and while it was true that Lois Cannon had a pair to be proud of, outside of her armpit hair I didn't find her all that fascinating. Nothing like Sharon. That was what went through my mind as I excused myself and ran into the bathroom, where it took me about two pulls of my throbbing cock to get rid of a load so immense that my balls were aching.

After I stood there over the toilet bowl and watched my semen spurt into the abyss for what seemed like an eternity, I cleaned up my mess and came to the following conclusions.

One was that just because I found women with body hair attractive and erotic that didn't make me a pervert, and another was that I sensed that a lot of other guys shared my interest but much like myself and John, we didn't broadcast our feelings for fear of being ridiculed.

The final conclusion was the most important. I told myself that I was going to find a way to go out with John's sister no matter what.

...

Chapter Three: Disinfecting with Sharon.

One Saturday afternoon in May of my senior year I found myself with a few hours to kill so I went over to the shelter to see if I could lend a hand. Actually, my intention was to see if Sharon was there, and to my delight I saw that her yellow VW bug was in the lot.

Sharon was out in the back, scrubbing the litter pans out. It was messy work and one of my least favorite tasks, but since Sharon was back there I decided to join her. She had her back to me, and as I approached her I had to marvel at how good she looked in her jeans.

The bell-bottoms were nice and snug around her butt and thighs, and revealed that she really had a nice body. Fuller on the bottom than on top, but she really filled out a pair of jeans nicely.

I made a little noise as I got up closer, and Sharon seemed startled to see me, but managed to smile and say hello. One thing I noticed immediately was that she had her sweatshirt sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and while she was wearing gloves, her forearms were exposed, which was cause for an immediate erection on my part.

"Can you use some help?" I offered.

"Sure," Sharon said, and I settled in next to her and did my best to assist her in lifting the pans up to the sink and taking them over to the table to dry.

The hair on her right forearm had gotten wet, pasting it to her skin, but her left forearm was still dry, which meant that the dark brown hair was still downy looking and moved with the breeze as she moved. The hair looked so soft and fluffy that I would have given anything to run my hands over her arms just once, and just the thought of doing that made me light-headed.

"You know, my senior prom is coming up," I mentioned. "Would you like to go with me?"

"Not much of a prom person," Sharon said calmly, glancing over at me with a placid expression.

"I know, you said that last year, when I sort of asked you if you wanted me to take you to yours," I reminded her.

"Did you?" Sharon asked. "I don't remember that. I probably thought you were kidding around."

"I figured that you said no because you would be embarrassed going to your senior prom with a junior. This year would be different."

"I thought you were going out with that Joann Armao," Sharon asked.

I looked over at Sharon, who was intensely scrubbing a pan. That light down that went down the side of her cheek and swirled around in front of her ear - could it really be as soft as it looked? It wasn't thick like a side-burn, like some wise-asses used to say. It was delicate and downy.

Sharon glanced over at me and saw me gawking at her, probably looking even more like a dork than ever, and I jerked my head away.

"Oh. Uh - Joann? We went out a couple of times."

"You should ask her," Sharon suggested. "You only get one senior prom."

"I don't want to go to the prom with her," I said. "That was why I asked you."

She wasn't wearing a bra. That revelation hit me like a tidal wave when I noticed the unmistakable nipple poking into her sweatshirt. Sharon always wore a bra. Playtex Cross My Heart 34A, as I had learned in investigating the clothes hamper at her house one day.

It had been a padded bra as well, but there was the evidence right next to me that she certainly wasn't flat chested. She didn't have big breasts, but there was something there, and just seeing that little swell sent shivers down my spine.

"So the answer is no?" I asked when Sharon didn't respond.

"Sorry."

"Is it because I'm younger than you?" I blurted out. "Is that why you always turn me down when I ask you to go out or do things?"

"No. As a matter-of-fact, I doubt whether you are younger than me."

"You have to be," I said. "You're a year ahead of me in school."

"I skipped a grade," Sharon informed me. "Second grade, plus I got an early start in kindergarten."

"Oh," I said, trying to do the math in my head. "I was 18 in January."

"I turned 18 last month."

"Oh. Happy birthday," I said. "I didn't know about it."

"Just another day."

"I always thought you were older. You've always acted so much more mature than the other kids. Even from the first day I spoke to you. You don't remember that, but..."

"You came over to where I was eating in the cafeteria," Sharon said as she cut me off. "You had been staring at me the two days before. That didn't bother me, because I'm used to that, but when you came over to my table with those hyena friends of yours laughing and making faces, I got mad."

"You remember that day?" I asked incredulously.

"I remember every time I get hurt."

"Well, you got that all wrong," I said. "First of all, I had just started at the school so I didn't have any friends. Those guys, if they were laughing at anybody they were probably laughing at me, either because I told one of them that you were cute or because I was such a dork."

I felt the tears welling up in my eyes but I was unable to hold them or anything else back, the result of holding everything in for all this time.

"Yes, I was staring at you," I admitted. "You were right about that. I stared at you then because I thought you were attractive and needed somebody as badly as I did. The same reasons that I stare at you now, and why I'm always hanging around your house."

"Ray..."

"You're so damn smart, but you can't figure out when somebody is crazy about you?" I almost shouted, before spinning away and blindly staggering in the general direction of the parking lot.

I had blown it. That was obvious. If yelling at Sharon didn't do it, then bawling like a baby certainly had. Thinking that I had been making fun of her way back then? If she only knew how many times I had made a fool of myself in trying to protect her over the years.

"Ray!"

Sharon was behind me, having caught up to me and had her hand on my shoulder. I stopped, but I was too ashamed of myself to look up at her.

"Ray, I'm sorry."

"It's my fault," I managed to say.

"Get in the car, Ray."

....

Chapter Four: In the bug.

I followed Sharon over to her car and climbed in, trying to wipe the tears from my face subtly, although a glance in the mirror at my reddened eyes left no doubt as to what a dork I was yet again.

"I'm sorry," Sharon said. "I still don't understand but I'm sorry I hurt your feelings. I know what that's like."

"I guess, since you seem to keep track of all the times it happens, or you THINK it happens," I said curtly. "Since you were way wrong about me, maybe it isn't as often as you think."