Mommy, Why Does That Girl Have a Dirty Pussy?

by S. J.

On the 20-minute drive home from the beach, I noticed a whimper coming from the passenger seat. The traffic was heavy at rush hour so I was concentrating on it rather than her. Once we got into the car, I had noticed her closing her eyes, so I assumed she was asleep, exhausted from the five hours of heat and play.

I glimpsed at her after hearing the first crying sound, observing a tear. I could tell her cry was escalating too.

When I asked what was wrong, she sobbed more. I assumed she was homesick. As I took her left hand in mine, pulling her closer to me, I got her to calm for a moment. I asked again what was wrong.

“While I was taking my shower, a girl said I had a dirty pussy,” she replied. I wasn’t sure I was hearing her accurately, so I asked her to repeat the comment.

“Well, this girl asked her mother why I had a dirty pussy,” as she added a little clarification.

“Did you bathe?” I asked.

“Of course,” was her reply, said in a very sarcastic tone.

“Do you want me to look at you when we get back to the condo?” By now it was only 5 minutes away. I reviewed all the possibilities in my mind. I could not come up with a likely explanation.

“Yes.” I was trying to allow my maternal side to rule the moment. Deanna was not making it easy for me, however, despite her sadness. She was a tall and skinny, mature yet sensitive 11½ year old. Happy! Smiled all the time. Athletic. Tomboyish. Much more like her father—my only brother—than her pretty “blonde” mother.

Hairy arms, with lush eyebrows and the beginnings of a woman figure. I could only guess at other features not so visible at the beach or any other occasions we were together before this first week she was visiting me.

And according to her mother, she could possibly get her first period any day during the summer.

I continued to ponder her "dirty pussy."

When we got inside, I told her to go to her bedroom, undress and come back to the bathroom, where I decided it would be best for the examination. I sat on the edge of the tub anxiously waiting for her. When she walked back in, completely naked, I immediately figured out the mystery.

“Come closer,” I encouraged. She walked to me, standing with her legs together. “Spread your legs a little.” She spread them wide, resting her hands on my shoulders. Although I was immediately fascinated with her figure, including her budding breasts, I directed all my attention to her pussy.

I placed my hand flat on her belly, moving it down to her mound. To my amazement, her mound was completely smooth and hairless. In contrast, her labia were covered with lots of dark, long, thick hairs. The hairs even covered her slit as far toward her ass as I could see. Her clit shaft and inner labia were almost totally covered.

“You are just hairy, that is all,” I explained. “That girl has probably not see anyone with dark pussy hair like yours.”

“Mom won’t let me shave it off,” she added. Then she shrugged.

“Oh, don’t ever do that,” I quickly replied. “Your pussy is very pretty.” At first I lightly rubbed her hairs with the back of my hand, then I moved my index finger down her slit, separating the hairs from both sides.

“Do you think so?” she asked. I could tell she was enjoying my attention. I added some pressure so her clit would take notice.

“Of course, it is very sexy too,” I added. I was fascinated with her. I had never seen a girl with labia hair and no mound hair.

“Mom shaves all of hers.”

“A lot of women do, but they don’t have to,” I affirmed. “I don’t shave mine, or trim it either.” Then I asked, “Didn’t you notice?”

“Kind of,” was her brief reply.

I looked from her face to her breasts to her pussy. Then, I planted a kiss on her belly button, followed by several more. When I arrived at her hairs, I rubbed my lips against them. Then I kissed her fully on the hairs. Desipte what any observer might think, the act was more feminine affirmation than erotic. Although, I could easily smell her strong scent.

Without warning she asked, “Can I see yours?”

“You mean my pussy?” I asked for clarification.

“Yes, I want to see your hairs.”

I answered by standing up, and lowering my shorts and panty.