Her Beard

 Her Beard

She tugged on his hand and pulled him up the long metal stairs behind her, up toward her apartment. His heart was racing, he couldn’t believe this was happening! So quickly! Tonight!

She stopped on the landing, dug around in her purse, fumbled out keys, and unlocked her door. Then she grabbed him by the collar and dragged him in for a kiss, hungry, passionate, full of need and promise. Her plump bottom lip quivered against his and the silky hair on her top lip tickled his nose. And then the apartment door was open and she was pulling him inside. She did a little twirl, dress and hair swirling, and stuck a pose somewhere between playful confidence and self-consciousness. “Ta-dahh!”

He looked at her, he couldn’t stop looking at her, only wanted to look at her. The cutely cluttered chic of her tiny apartment didn’t matter, except in so far as it was an extension of her, a frame for her beauty or a venue for their desire. He studied her, ogled actually, drank her in pieces. The long sweep of her legs made longer by shiny black boots with daring heels. Her sort of Bohemian teal dress, knee length and flouncy around her hips, but prone to pull tight and tease the sleek shape of her body within. Her long bare arms, artful and quick, spangled with loose bracelets at the left wrist. The swell of her chest in the deep V of her dress, the hot expanse of breasts, pushed forward and heaving with her breath. He couldn’t wait to touch them, feel them, hold them, kiss and crush and bite them. The sharp sapphire blue of her eyes, hungry and shy and horny. The quirk of her sculpted eyebrow and the amused twist of her plush rose painted lips. The cascade of her strawberry blonde hair, elegantly styled in loose curls that cascaded past her shoulders and down her back. The matching blonde cascade of her beard, long enough for the styled coif of it to hide her throat and partially obscure her chest. The adorably dorky wide brimmed felt fashion hat on her head.  “Fuck…” he gasped.

And then they were kissing again, mouths locked together. She clutched his shoulders and head, while his hands worked down her back to grab the swell of her ass. She wiggled appreciatively, made a pleased noise, dipped her tongue into his mouth. The silky hair of her beard caught and tugged at his faint stubble; the scent of it, floral and citrus, like lavender and kumquats, filled his nose. The silly hat fell off and was ignored.

“Are you sure you want this?” She asked uncertainly, her lips in their hairy golden frame trembled and her eyes worried. 

“Of course,” he gasped, a little confused. He’d thought his roaming hands and urgently hard cock were sign enough. “Of course…”

And then she was tugging him along behind her again, leading him down a hall and into a tiny bedroom. Her bedroom. She turned and smiled at him, ran a hand through her hair, starting at her bangs, down along the sweep of her hair, and straight into her beard so that her hand ended up clutching the tip of her golden facial hair, resting on her chest. She laughed unexpectedly, shook her head, her hair and beard swaying like a mane. Then she grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him onto her small bed. 

“Take off your clothes,” she purred as she reached under her dress to slip out of her panties. He obliged in a hurry, fumbling and twisting, made somewhat comic by his haste. She grinned, tilted her head, enjoyed the view with a look of frank desire. “I want you,” she said and then she climbed onto his naked body, her thighs around his hips, the wet heat of her pussy pressed onto the hard length of his cock like a kiss. The skirt of her dress bunched and billowed around her hips, their hips, hiding their sexes. She rocked her body, painting herself across him, making him gasp. She laughed, leaned over him and kissed him hungrily on the mouth, her hair and beard falling like a silky tent around their faces. She made to pull away and he grabbed her by the beard, pulled her face back for another kiss, a bite of her lower lip. She mewled and rubbed herself against him more, his cock slick and wet with her arousal. “Fuck,” he said.

She pulled free and reached back and untied the halter of her dress, let the front of it fall away to gather at her waist. He could see the smooth contours of her flat stomach and the round, heavy shape of her breasts hanging free but still hidden behind the ringlets of her long golden beard. He growled in frustration, eager to see her tits, reached up and into her long flowing beard, grabbed and fondled, hands and wrists tickled by silky hair. She tossed her head back to sigh in pleasure, lifting her beard and baring her hard dark nipples. He sat up, halfway in an abdominal crunch, wrapped his lips around a nipple and sucked, her beard hair falling all around his face. She hissed in appreciation, ground her labia against his cock, and squealed “Yessss” when he pinched her other nipple. 

She pushed him down, sat up against him, her wet weight resting on his penis. She was breathing hard and she ran her hand through her hair and beard again, looked down at him, a smile tugging at her lips. “You want me,” she said, a statement not a question.

“Yes,” he whined, thrusted his hips a bit.

“Even with the beard,” she said, stroking it thoughtfully.

“It’s beautiful,” he gasped. “Sexy.”

She grinned and laughed, something unseen answered, and then lifted herself, reached under, and steered his cock into her vagina. She lowered herself slowly, so slowly, twisting a little as she went, lip crushed between teeth and eyes wincing in pleasure. “Ohhhhh,” she said. He grunted in agreement, feeling his entire length embraced by the boiling hot tightness of her pussy. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned forward, her breasts and beard hanging down, soft hair brushing his chest. He clutched her tits, squeezed them, kneaded their soft weight, and she started to roll her hips, to thrust herself up and down, slowly at first, but building faster and harder, chasing a new rhythm. Her hair and beard and breasts bounced heavily, and she tilted her head back to gasp and moan. He grunted and pushed back against her, thrust his body in opposition, grabbed her hips to stop them separating. She leaned forward more, seeking leverage, her beard and tits dragging along his skin, silky fragrant hair and hard nipples. He lifted his legs, rested his feet on the bed, raised his hips and started to fully thrust, bucking his hips, fucking her from below. She gasped and panted, held herself against him, clutched onto him, now a delighted passenger. He cupped her plush ass, squeezed it, used it to find more force. She started to let out little moaning gasps, coiled her body tighter, as if she were about to jump or leap, and then she unfurled suddenly, muscles pulling tight, her arms clutching them together, her mouth frozen open in an O, throat making a kind of groaning noise that went on and on. She collapsed against him, boneless in his arms, but he kept fucking her, thrusting, thrusting, thrusting, he was so close, so fucking close, and then he growled and thrust slowly once, twice more, and then shuddered as all at once he came, cock pulsing inside her. His body went rigid taut, and then he relaxed, spent with her atop him.

They lay together like that for a time, soft and exhausted, still locked together, her hair and beard tangled around their faces. Eventually they felt his cock soften, pop free, the warm ooze of his seed escaping from inside her. He rolled her off him, beside him, tangled their legs together, and smiled down at her. She smiled sleepily, her once immaculately styled hair and beard tangled and mussed and unkempt, sex hair on her head and face. He started to stroke her hair and beard to try and straighten it a little, which made her grin shyly. “It’s my first time,” she said, “since I grew the beard.”

“Mmm.”

She blushed, “I was nervous that guys wouldn’t like it. That they’d think it’s weird.”

He frowned, something not quite adding up for him. An almost thought surfaced about how most women had smooth clean shaven chins and not long luxurious beards, but… no, not important. He blinked and shook his head a little, “I don’t know why you’d worry, it’s beautiful.” He gave it a long stroke and tugged on it gently. 

She laughed and smiled, dimples hidden under facial hair. “Thanks.”

“I’m surprised you’re self-conscious about it; a beard like this is a commitment.” He smiled wryly and stroked his own stubble, acknowledging his own lack of beard bonafides. “It must have taken you ages to grow it.”

She snorted a laugh. “Way less time than you’d think,” she replied cryptically. “Don’t ever tease a witch about a hairy top lip…”

Wild impossible thoughts threatened to break free in his mind, but the levy held, so instead he laughed, “I knew your beard was magical!”

She frowned, “But it is though!”

He laughed and hugged her, gave her a playful little shake, and grinned at her like it was all a joke. “Totally magical!”

***