A first love is special. Do you remember your first love? I remember mine like it was yesterday.
During the first week of 6th grade a new girl was given the seat next to me. Carol was large-boned and an early bloomer. What caught my attention more than her breasts were her arms. They were very strong-looking and covered with long, thick chestnut brown hair. She was definitely more hairy than I was, and I was one of the hairiest guys in the school. I hadn’t gotten into girls yet, in fact had actually kissed only one girl up to that point, but somehow I couldn’t stop looking at her arms. Carol seemed a little bored in class and she kept playing with the hair on her arms. When she wrote in her notebook or picked up a book, the muscles in her arms flexed. I wondered what it would feel like to touch her arms. For the first week I kept staring, but I said nothing. I did notice she ate her lunch alone.
The next Monday, I brought my lunch over to the table where Carol was sitting alone. She was very friendly and also smart as a whip. Her big brown eyes had gold flecks in them, and the hair on her arms was tipped with gold! I couldn’t believe I was noticing that, and how strongly I was attracted to her. I had no idea what to do about it.
At recess that day I had just gotten a drink from the water cooler. When I straightened up, there was Carol waiting for me with her math book.
“Hi! Could you take a look at these two problems? I don’t get them.”
I wiped my mouth. “Sure, let’s sit down by that tree.”
I didn’t really understand the problems either, but we wound up figuring them out together. While writing up the answers, our forearms touched. The sensation of her arm hair brushing against mine was really something else. She didn’t pull away either! That afternoon we were told to pair up for a science project. Both of us picked each other right away. We planned to meet after school the next day at her house to get started.
On Tuesday I wore my best sport shirt and my “good” pants to make a good impression. She wore a sleeveless blue shift, revealing that the hair went all the way up her upper arm as it tapered off to soft down that covered her shoulders. A cool breeze wafted in through the open window next to her desk. She got gooseflesh and the hair stood on end and blew all around. She kept rubbing her arms and smoothing the hair to make it lie down. I couldn’t concentrate on anything but those arms. I made up my mind today was the day I was going to ask her to let me touch them.
So at lunch I invited her to come eat outside. We sat under the oak tree, and Mother Nature obliged by bringing up the breeze. The hair on her arms and legs blew around even more…Here goes nothing, I thought.
“That’s a really nice dress. You look great in blue.”
“Thanks…It’s a little cool for sleeveless though.”
“But it shows off your arms. You have really pretty arms.”
“Please don’t tease me about them. Everybody does. They say I have “boy arms”. They’re so strong and hairy. Look, I even have more than you do!”
“I’m not teasing you. I like them a lot. Would it be OK if I feel them?”
“Well, as long as you don’t pull the hair. It really hurts to have it pulled.”
“OK, I promise…” I slowly and ever so gently ran my fingers through the longest hair just below the elbow. It was at least one inch long and incredibly soft, softer than any baby animal’s fur. I explored the rest of her arm down to her wrist, amazed at the wonder of the discovery–how hairy a girl could be, and how good it felt to be doing that! She realized I wasn’t teasing and she smiled at me. I felt a really big erection coming on. I’d had erections before, but now I knew why.
“Ooh, that feels nice!”
“You’re a beautiful girl.”
She interlocked her free hand in mine and said, “I really like you too.” Without thinking we leaned close and kissed softly. Afterwards, when I caught my breath, I realized this was for real!
“Are we still on for your house?”
“You bet. Wait till you meet my mom. She’s beautiful. She’s six feet tall. She has really hairy arms too. Don’t you dare say a word. Don’t tell her you’re my boyfriend either. That’s our secret!”
“OK, I promise.” When we stood up to go back in, my shirt was soaked and I realized the “good” pants were too tight for a hard-on! Somehow I managed to excuse myself and get to the boys’ room. I had a girlfriend, and it was great! I was useless in class all afternoon.
After school we walked to her house. Carol’s mom met us at the door. She towered over us. She really was gorgeous, like a well-toned fashion model…and extremely hairy arms like Carol, but with something else–a bleached and very sexy looking mustache! As she led us through the living room I noticed the piano and asked Carol who her teacher was. Carol’s mom said, “I’m her piano teacher. Do you play an instrument, Steven?”
“Yes, I’ve been taking guitar lessons for two years. Classical.”
“I also teach Spanish guitar. Can you sight read? I have a piece you and Carol could play in duet, but it’s a bit tough…”
This was great! We went over to the piano. Carol’s mom produced a Spanish guitar and showed me the guitar part of the Handel piece. Her hairy arm was very close to my face as she turned the pages. She smelled like orange blossoms. I was totally speechless and terrified of making a bad impression. Fortunately I had a good classical guitar teacher and we played the duet nicely. Then Carol’s mom showed me a couple of tips on some of the tough parts. As I watched her play, I noticed she had hair on her lovely, long hands and fingers. I thought about the other places hair would grow on Carol’s body when she matured. Carol smiled at me and her eyes were shining. Something else in common!
We got the science project off to a good start before I left, no mean feat considering my “good” pants were bursting at the seams and I excused myself several times to go to the bathroom. I must have been toast by the time I got home, but my parents didn’t say anything, so I must have hid my emotions well enough. Not so the same overnight, because when I awoke in the morning the bedsheets and my underwear were soaked from what must have been one hell of a wet dream, my first. I frantically scrambled to clean up the mess so Mom wouldn’t find out. I was toast all right!
On Wednesday Carol wore another sleeveless, this time a yellow one, and she kept teasing me by playing with the hair on her arms and smiling at me while she did it. Again my erections were so uncomfortable I wound up in the boys’ room four times that morning. Carol passed me a note asking if I was feeling OK, and I passed one back telling her I’d explain at lunch. I didn’t want to risk anything that might cause the teacher to separate us.
We ate in our spot under the oak tree and she asked me why I was going to the toilet so much. I was very embarrassed about the erections, but I explained them as best I could. To my amazement, Carol said she was also thinking about me a lot and she was feeling “tingly” in certain spots! She raised her arm and showed me her armpit, where hair was just beginning to grow, and said it was all probably part of growing up. She told me her mom really liked me, and wasn’t all this “secret sexy stuff” cool? As I gently feathered her soft forearm hair through my fingers, I kissed her cheek and whispered that she was the sexiest girl in the world.
That night, necessity became the mother of invention and I masturbated in the basement before I went to bed. Having found a place and a means to resolve that issue, I got more bold as the days went by. I began to brush my teeth more carefully and wash my face more often. I made sure I had a pack of Wrigley’s or a box of Sen-Sen on hand for fresh breath. I’d never made much of a fuss over personal hygiene before! I whispered suggestive comments into Carol’s ear when she was at her locker, and wrote her dirty notes. We snuck away at lunch to the boiler room and other places as far as possible from everyone else. After school if there were no other activities we rode our bikes to the park.
Carol loved to touch and be touched. She was a great kisser with a very busy tongue. She knew I was wild about her arms. She let me caress them and play with the hair every day. She told me she liked it best when I sat behind her and licked her ears while I rubbed her arms all up and down. We armwrestled lots of times, always an even match. Nobody was keeping score, we just liked it! We compared biceps and forearms constantly. We talked once or twice about my going into the basement and about her “tingles” and wet panties, but that’s as far as it went in terms of adult sexuality. After all we were in 6th grade and we thought what we were doing was pretty racy stuff.
I invited her to go swimming because the pool was closing soon and I wanted to see her in a bikini. At first she said no because she was shy about how hairy she was and the teasing that had gone on in the past when other kids saw her in a bathing suit. It wasn’t easy, but I finally convinced her to go at night. On the night we walked to the pool it was the first time we held hands. I’d put on Jockey trunks instead of boxers. When she took off her t-shirt, I was electrified by the sight of the line of hair that ran from just below her top all the way down into her bikini bottoms–a full adult treasure trail indeed, complete with wisps of pubic hair peeping out of the bottoms. All the other girls and women I’d seen at the pool had been smooth. Carol saw my erection. As I always did when she noticed it, I told her she was beautiful. She was an excellent swimmer. We swam out to the deep end and wrestled in the water. I held her from behind, stroked her hairy arms, and nuzzled the soft down on her shoulders and the back of her neck. She allowed me to dry her off and feel the hair on her legs for the first time…it was fabulous. She also had a patch of hair in the small of her back that I wanted to touch, but decided to save for later. Having seen her in the bikini made me want to see her totally naked someday. We planned to come back often the following summer.
Meanwhile the science project, and all our other schoolwork, turned out straight A’s as we shot to the top of the class. We shared many more experiences. Our parents even met, and everyone got along famously. As far as both parents knew, we were model kids. We kept the secret of our sexploits to ourselves. It was an incredible year, but at the end of May it was our turn to move out of state. The separation was devastating, and in spite of our tearful promises to love each other always and write letters every day, we eventually lost touch.
Yet Carol had lit my fire and it will always burn. I’m still strongly attracted to women with very hairy arms. Women with very hairy arms seem to have the highest sex drive of all. If the arms happen to be nicely muscled, so much the better. Gently caressing a woman’s forearm hair, along with a smile and a few pleasant words, still seems to work as my icebreaker.
There are erogenous zones in several places on the hairy female arm that can be used in intensely pleasurable foreplay for both partners.
Sometimes I read stories how the Internet has helped reunite people after many years’ separation, and I wonder whether I could locate Carol today. Her body hair in its adult form would be absolutely magnificent. More important, she was romantic, funny, intelligent, caring, and yes, even at 11 years old, all woman. She was my lover and my best friend, and that’s what it’s all about.
Used with permission © Hair To Stay Dot Com 2004, All Rights Are Reserved.