Objectionable Hair – A Lady’s Taboo

Objectionable Hair – A Lady’s Taboo – and celebration of underarms


The wonderful Whores of Yore recently posted this tweet – which has completely inspired my Sinful Sunday.

objectionable hair


I find ladies who grow their objectionable hair incredibly sexy. Don’t get me wrong, I adore a smooth pit too, but there’s something about that dusky shading that you just know warm delicious pheromones will gather and draw you in to their heady womanly spell… I think it’s a real shame that it seems to cause such a furore when folks catch a glimpse.

Just look at this photo of Sophia (taken from Pinterest – I will remove if any issues) isn’t she dreamy?



I wrote a story called Francesca’s Mother, which is all about the secret allure of the unshaven armpit. You can read it below.

Sometimes I grow mine and it shows up in Sinful Sunday posts. I remember being a bit shy at of posting this at first – I was even thinking that I should Photoshop it out but in the end I gave myself a slap. Nobody mentioned it anyway. You might remember this one. The Experiment.


the experiment tabitha Rayne


I finished my final year or high school in the US – we were told before we went that it was a cultural faux pas not to shave our body hair and so to ‘fit in’ we should be smooth skinned and hair free.

I’m a contrary fucker, so naturally, I grew mine in. Oddly, the ladies in the class thought it disgusting, but I was never short of a curious gentleman caller.


So here’s the story I wrote a while ago (it appears in Sexy Just Walked into Town – get it now for FREE!)


Francesca’s Mother

I couldn’t help but stare.

She was perfection in her black bikini, standing in front of me in line for the waterslide. From her heels to her calves, all the way up the back of her thighs to the dip and crease of her buttocks, her legs were flawless. Olive, hair free skin had me mesmerized. I was now glad of the long queue which previously had me shivering. With all the self assurance of a foreign exchange student, she gracefully lifted her ponytail and tied it in a knot. I swallowed hard as I caught a glimpse of thick dark hair curling under her arms. My heart leapt and I was instantly thrown back to my youth.

Francesca’s mother was my guilty pleasure. I would stay for long weekends at their house and spend the whole time preoccupied by the huge maternal presence that commanded the family home with gentle force. I would find any excuse to go into the kitchen and watch her knead dough on the antique pine table, her braless breasts swinging and gently slapping together beneath a purple smock dress. She was so mighty and strong and, though I couldn’t name it at the time, sensual. When she moved near me I’d inhale her scent. Underneath the rosemary and garlic, there was something else; something musky and dangerous. It at once attracted and repelled me, but I always filled my lungs with the delicious warmth, seeking that hidden perfume.

“Look at this,” Francesca pulled me into her mother’s bedroom one trip home from college. We sprawled on the bed reading Anais Nin and Nancy Friday books until we could gasp and giggle no more. I read the words, becoming more and more physically turned on. I’d had a few ferociously passionate encounters at college and was no stranger to sex, but I sensed these books were exploring something else too. Something more than the physical. They made me want to be with the mighty woman downstairs.

“I’m just going for a drink,” I told Francesca and rolled off the bed, taking care not to show the damp spot forming in my jeans.

When I got to the kitchen, Francesca’s mother was standing over a huge pot of broth on the stove. Thick meaty smells filled the room, and as she lifted her elbow to stir the great vat, a tuft of glossy black curls sprang into view. I was slightly repulsed but my mouth started watering and warmth and moisture spread between my legs. I sat on a stool and pressed my hands onto my mound, rocking my pelvis into my fists while Francesca’s mother stirred the soup. I came in my jeans just as she tapped the drips off the ladle on the side of the pot.

The atmosphere was charged and I was sure I caught her eyes flit across my tiny hard nipples while she swept away wild peppery hair from her brow with her forearm. I lifted my ribcage and stared at her, daring her to look again, but she didn’t. She turned back to the range and opened the oven door. Steam and the odor of fresh baked bread broke the spell and I hopped off the stool and sped back up to Francesca, at once invigorated and ashamed.

And now, at the swimming pool of all places, these feelings had returned. The queue bustled into me and I stumbled slightly into the back of the poised beauty in front. She looked haughtily round and I licked my lips involuntarily at the sight of hers. Full and raw with a dusting of fine hairs on her upper lip. Suddenly I was consumed with want for this woman. I could have grabbed her there and then. I could feel my nipples peaking as she looked at me straight in the eye.

“I’m sorry,” I gasped. “It’s the people behind, they keep pushing.”

She slowly and languidly looked down the full length of me then turned back as the attendant signaled her to go on the slide. She grabbed the bar at the top of the entrance and flung herself into the water filled tube. My desire began to subside and I gave myself a mental shake. What was I up to?

The attendant gave me the nod and I pushed myself as hard as I could into the tunnel. I was drenched and gathered up by the flow, sliding up and down the sides of the huge tube. It was exhilarating and my lustful agitation was just easing when I collided hard into a figure jammed spread-eagled against the sides of the slide.

“What the…” I started as the woman from the queue fell heavily onto me thrusting a hand over my mouth.

“I saw the look in your eyes,” her distinct voice hissed in my ear and my want came flooding back. As we writhed and twisted gathering speed, she removed her hand and kissed me hard, forcing my mouth open with her powerful sharp little tongue. It was thrilling and I reached round and grabbed her ass through her bikini bottoms. She countered by shoving her hand in between my legs and pulled my swimsuit to the side, delving fingers inside my soaked sex. I splayed my legs open and tried to slow us down by grabbing the tube walls. She slammed her pelvis into the gap and ground her hand deeper into my pussy with the force of her mound. It felt so horny and I grabbed at her tits craning my head up and under her arm to catch another glimpse of the beautiful curls. She obliged, lifting her arm, allowing me to bury my nose into the fragrant nook. There it was. Sensual, dangerous, horny – that smell. I wallowed in it as she kneaded my clit with her thumb. I jerked and rocked as the stars that always signaled my climax swirled in my peripheral vision. My pussy began to well and she started pumping her fingers into me violently as the water gushed around us and flowed over her chest, pulling down her bikini top so that her ripe dark nipples were just a lick away. As I started coming, I engulfed one of her breasts with my hungry mouth and suckled her throbbing tit, tonguing the puckered flesh of her nipple trying to take it all in. She grabbed my pussy from the inside and out, gripping my clit and g-spot together. I came, twitching and panting and gushing all over her sexy little hands. I wanted my turn, I wanted to fuck her with my fingers, my tongue, but she climbed off me, and slid away while tying her bikini back up. The slide ended abruptly and I splashed out into a deep cool pool. I swam to the surface, staring all around for my tunnel lover, but I couldn’t see her anywhere.

Later, I searched though my college things and found the books I’d quietly stolen from Francesca’s mother. I spent the rest of the afternoon sprawled across my bed understanding all the things I’d missed those years before…


Happy Sinful Sunday! For more sexy sinners – click those delicious lips x xx


Sinful Sunday

34 thoughts on “Objectionable Hair – A Lady’s Taboo

  1. I lived in Europe for many years where lady’s underarm hair is not only accepted, but is actually normal. Like most Americans, I’m conditioned to expect it bare, but am good either way…very open-minded.

    1. Yay!
      In the UK it is a bit of a taboo too. I think people would still be a little shocked and do a double take. I hope it relaxes more so people don’t feel awkward about themselves. thank you for your comment x x

  2. I often have ‘objectionable’ hair. I tend to shave my armpits about once a month. I like the way it feels, so soft, it never seems to be prickly in the way leg hair is.


  3. There’s an elegant simplicity to the first photograph; it’s beautiful. To me, there is not a single objectionable thing about armpit hair on anyone (I relish putting my face in a lover’s armpit to soak up the scent, actually!) When I travel, I don’t shave, and growing my hair out is one of my favorite things about travelling. It feels SO nice to be in my natural body.

    1. Yes – it’s the soaking up the scent and pheromones isn’t it – so heady – can take you to another realm! Thank you for your lovely comment x

  4. We are taught in America almost from birth that it’s gross for women to have leg or armpit hair. I remember my mother telling me when I was about 11 that I needed to start shaving my legs. I hit puberty early and no one had told me I would grow hair on my vulva, so I have memories of cutting the hairs off with scissors when one would pop up.

    And of course, within the last 20 years, is become more and more of a thing to be pressured into the removal of pubic hair. My owner blames it on the increasing popularity of oral sex. I’m required to shave my legs and underarms, but he doesn’t require the pubic region because it doesn’t work with my skin.

    But don’t blame the ladies too much for thinking it disgusting. We’re culturally programmed to think that way from an early age.

    1. Oh my goodness – I really hope I didn’t give the impression of blaming anyone. I totally understand how fashions get absorbed and become the norm. And not being educated about how our bodies change and grow – what a shock to suddenly develop hair in your private places. So important to have someone to guide you. No-one ever told me that female arousal involved lubrication – I ran away from a boy while we were kissing because I thought I’d wet myself.
      thanks for your comment x x x

      1. I never encountered that issue. I started masturbating at an obscenely early age, started reading romance novels at 13 and didn’t have my first sexual encounter until 19, so I was well acquainted with the mechanics if not the practice. But I can’t say I ever had a talk about sex with my mother until after I’d been sexually active for several months.

  5. I have issues with my own hair, having PCOS, it grows in places it shouldn’t do so I’m always handy with my razor. On other people I’m not bothered by hair…except beards, I can’t stand them!

    1. Ohhh I love beards! 🙂
      Thank you so much for commenting – I suddenly looked at my arms this year and realised they were so much more hairy thank my friends – and I shaved them last month 🙂 – and so it has begun.

  6. I was going very much against the grain when I decided to stop shaving my legs while I was still in high school. (It was once the topic of scandalized conversation when I was in uni.) In recent years, I’ve been shaving my armpits only occasionally and I’ve been known to trim or just let it grow. First I got used to revealing it in tank tops in my belly dance class, and then in photos on my blog. Actually, the photo at the top of your post reminds me of this one: https://sexismynewhobby.wordpress.com/2015/04/12/sinful-sunday-fossa/

    1. Wow – that is a gorgeous photo (go check out that link peeps) x x and I think it’s wonderful to be fluid and do what you feel at the time. Even though I wish all sorts of things were more acceptable, it’s quite nice to scandalize folks at times too 😀 😀

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